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strawberry-bubblef · 3 months ago

Note

Hi,

I got this fun idea for a twst request and I was hoping you could fulfill it (You don't have to if you don't want to)

Idk how many characters your limit is, but i was wondering if you could write for the overblot boys with a reader who knew the great seven? (Whether it be, the reader is immortal and helped them with their schemes or if you decide something else)

And if it's not too complicated, could they all be platonic except for Idia? (If that's too much, you can make it just Idia or make them all platonic, I don't wanna seem too demanding)

OB with a reader who knows the great seven

Synopsis: You have lived through centuries, once an ally, confidant, and accomplice to the Great Seven in their rise to power. Time has left you a relic of an era long past,until you awaken in Night Raven College, where the shadows of history stir once more.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle Rosehearts had always admired the Queen of Hearts. Her laws, her discipline, her unwavering authority,all things he strove to embody. He had read every record available, memorized every rule, and dedicated himself to upholding her legacy. But you? You had known her.

It was something that left him utterly speechless when he first learned the truth.

You were an enigma wrapped in the guise of an ordinary student at Night Raven College, but in reality, you had walked through history, stood beside the Great Seven, and witnessed their reigns firsthand. To someone like Riddle, who built his entire life around the teachings of one of them, your very existence was nothing short of astonishing.

His first instinct was skepticism. Surely, you were exaggerating or simply playing a joke on him. But then, you spoke.

"The Queen of Hearts had a habit of twirling her scepter when she was deep in thought," you mused one day, as the two of you studied in the Heartslabyul garden. "She used to hum a certain melody under her breath when she was pleased with something, though I doubt any record of that survived."

Riddle nearly knocked over his teacup. "That… that can't be,how could you possibly know that?"

You gave him a knowing smile, one that sent a shiver down his spine. "Because I was there."

The weight of that realization crashed down on him like a tidal wave. You weren’t lying. You weren’t mistaken. You had seen the Queen of Hearts with your own eyes, heard her voice, stood in her court.

For the first time in his life, Riddle was at a loss for words.

From that moment on, his fascination with you only grew. He wanted to know everything,what the Queen was like beyond the strict laws and formal depictions, what kind of ruler she had been when she wasn't delivering orders.

"Did she ever smile?" he asked hesitantly one evening, his voice quieter than usual.

You chuckled. "Of course she did. She wasn’t just a ruler,she was a person, Riddle. No one is defined solely by their laws."

That sentiment struck something deep within him. He had spent so long striving for perfection, for absolute adherence to the rules, that he had never stopped to consider the person behind them. But you… you had seen the Queen as a living being, not just a figure in history.

It changed something in him.

Your bond deepened over time, shifting from awe to companionship. Riddle found himself more at ease in your presence than he was with most people. He still respected you immensely, of course,how could he not? But there was something else, something softer.

He valued your opinions, sought your guidance. When he struggled with doubt, he turned to you.

And one day, as you walked together beneath the rose-covered arches of Heartslabyul, he hesitated before speaking.

"Would you say that… you were proud of her?" he asked carefully. "The Queen of Hearts?"

You considered his words for a long moment. "She had her faults, just like anyone else. But she was strong, determined, and she left behind a legacy that shaped the world. Yes, I think I was proud of her."

Riddle exhaled, something in his chest loosening at your words.

"And you?" you asked, tilting your head curiously. "Do you think she'd be proud of you?"

His breath caught in his throat. He had spent years chasing an ideal, trying to be the perfect Heartslabyul student, the perfect rule enforcer. But would the Queen of Hearts herself have approved of him?

He looked at you, and for once, he didn’t feel the pressure to be perfect.

"I… I hope so," he admitted.

You smiled, and it was warm, reassuring. "I think she would be."

And for the first time in a long while, Riddle allowed himself to believe it.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had always admired the King of Beasts. It was a well-known fact. The stories of his strength, his cunning, his ability to take what he wanted with no hesitation,all of it resonated with him. He knew them by heart, had grown up with them as a source of inspiration and, in some ways, justification. After all, if the greatest ruler in history had operated by his own rules, why shouldn’t he?

So when he first heard about you,the acolyte of the Great Seven, the one who had actually stood beside the legends themselves,he had his doubts. He wasn’t the type to fawn over old figures, no matter how influential they were. But there was no denying that you carried a presence, a confidence that made it clear you hadn’t just studied history,you had lived it.

And the fact that you had worked alongside the King of Beasts himself? Well. That was something worth paying attention to.

He never asked you about it outright, at least not at first. If you wanted to talk about it, you would. Leona wasn’t one to pry, and he wasn’t about to beg for details like some starry-eyed cub. But when you did speak about it,offhanded comments, casual recollections,he listened. More than that, he committed every word to memory.

“You sound just like him sometimes,” you mused one evening, after Leona had dismissed someone’s attempt to bother him with a single, sharp look.

Leona snorted. “What, ‘cause I don’t have time for nonsense?”

“That, and because you think ahead,” you replied. “Most people assume he was all brawn, but he knew how to plan, how to manipulate the battlefield before the fight even started. He saw the bigger picture.”

Leona’s ears twitched. That wasn’t something most people focused on. The stories always talked about the raw power, the victories, the intimidation. But strategy? That was something only someone who had been there would know to appreciate.

“You’re kinda good at it you know?”

Leona didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze drift across the savanna-like fields outside, the golden light of the setting sun making the world look like something out of an old memory.

“…You think he’d respect me?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

You tilted your head. “The King of Beasts?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled through his nose. “Or would he think I was just some lazy second-born?”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “He’d recognize you, Leona.”

Leona’s tail flicked. “Hah. Bold assumption.”

“He respected strength,” you said simply. “And he knew that strength wasn’t just about brute force. He’d see the way you think, the way you analyze people, the way you play the long game even when you pretend you don’t care. He’d see himself in you.”

Leona turned his head slightly, just enough to look at you out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t say anything, but there was something different in his expression,something thoughtful, something… lighter.

“…Heh. Guess that means you see it too, huh?”

You chuckled. “I’ve always seen it.”

Leona huffed, shaking his head. “You and your big words.”

But he didn’t argue. And later, as he lay stretched out beneath the stars, he found himself thinking about your words more than he cared to admit.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul Ashengrotto had spent years studying the legends of the Great Seven, drawing inspiration from their cunning, their power, and their undeniable influence. But never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would one day meet someone who had actually known them.

You.

The acolyte of the Great Seven, a living relic of history, standing right before him. And not just some distant figure lost in the annals of time,you were real, tangible, and, to his absolute shock, quite fond of him.

Azul prided himself on keeping his composure in negotiations, but even he had to admit that this revelation nearly made him drop his pen.

“You… were close to the Sea Witch?” he asked, voice carefully controlled, though his fingers twitched slightly where they rested atop his contract book.

“Close?” You hummed, tilting your head in thought. “I suppose you could say that. I learned from her, advised her at times. She was a remarkable woman.”

Azul’s grip tightened. “Remarkable indeed.”

To say that Azul revered the Sea Witch would be an understatement. He had spent years modeling his business strategies after her, refining his persuasive tactics to mirror her legendary deals. And here you were, someone who had witnessed her genius firsthand.

“What was she like?” The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. He was usually so calculated in his speech, but the opportunity to learn more about his idol was too tempting to ignore.

You chuckled, the sound warm, nostalgic. “Clever, naturally. A force to be reckoned with. But she was also pragmatic. She knew how to get what she wanted without wasting time. And despite what the stories say, she valued loyalty.”

Azul’s eyes gleamed. “Loyalty…?”

You nodded. “She never gave something for nothing, but those who proved their worth? She took care of them. Not out of kindness, but because she knew the value of strong allies.”

Azul absorbed every word, committing them to memory. He had spent years honing his skills, but hearing confirmation from someone who had been there? It made everything feel… validated.

Then you leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “But between you and me? You’re already quite the businessman yourself.”

Azul froze, his mind stuttering over itself.

The praise shouldn’t have affected him so much. He had received compliments before, flattery from clients and students alike. But this was different. This was coming from someone who had seen the rise of the Great Seven, who had stood beside the Sea Witch herself.

And you thought he was impressive?

A slow, self-satisfied smile curled his lips. “Well,” he murmured, adjusting his glasses, “I do try.”

You laughed, and Azul felt a strange warmth settle in his chest. He had always sought validation, always yearned to prove himself. And now, hearing it from you, it felt… right.

Maybe, just maybe, he was on the right path after all.

Azul's reaction to meeting you is absolutely priceless. You’re someone who actually knew the Sea Witch, the very legend he admires most, and your praise holds more weight than anything he's ever heard before. The way you validate his ambitions and skills?

It’s the ultimate boost to his confidence.

Jamil Viper

Jamil had always lived under the shadow of another,always serving, always being overlooked. But you? You had once stood at the side of the Sorcerer of the Sands himself. If anyone understood the burden of duty, the weight of loyalty, it was you.

The moment Jamil found out who you were, his mind reeled. The legends, the history,the Sorcerer of the Sands was a figure he both admired and resented. And you? You had actually known him. Not just as a distant, untouchable icon, but as a real person.

"So, was he as powerful as they say?" Jamil asked one evening, voice measured, carefully neutral. "Or is it all exaggerated?"

You hummed, leaning back. "He was powerful, yes. But more than that, he was clever. He knew how to manipulate, how to turn the tides in his favor."

Jamil's fingers twitched. "And you? You helped him?"

You smiled knowingly. "Of course. I was his acolyte, after all. But power isn't everything, Jamil. Even the greatest sorcerers can fall."

That hit closer to home than he cared to admit.

Yet, despite the enormity of your past, you never looked down on him. You saw him. The real him. Not just as Kalim's servant, not just as someone who had overblotted, but as Jamil Viper,someone with potential, someone worthy of his own ambitions.

He found himself drawn to you, not just because of your history, but because you understood. You had lived through more than he could fathom, yet you still walked forward, unbound by the weight of the past. It was a future he wanted for himself.

One night, as the desert wind howled outside Scarabia’s halls, Jamil found himself speaking words he never thought he would.

"Do you think...someone like me could ever be free?"

You looked at him, gaze steady. "Of course. It’s just a matter of making the right moves."

Jamil exhaled, something unspoken passing between you.

For the first time in a long time, he believed it might actually be possible.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil Schoenheit had always held the Beautiful Queen in the highest regard. She was the pinnacle of elegance, refinement, and ambition an emblem of the perfection he constantly strove for. He had studied every detail of her legend, every calculated move that led her to power, every stroke of her infamous beauty. But he never expected to meet someone who had actually known her.

And yet, there you were, standing before him, ageless and composed, your presence both regal and effortless. You, who had walked beside the Beautiful Queen herself. You, who had been her acolyte, had seen her rise and fall with your own eyes.

At first, he was skeptical. Many admired the Great Seven, but few could claim to have known them personally. But as you spoke,of courtly intrigue, of the Queen’s dedication to her craft, of the sharp mind behind her legendary beauty,he knew you weren’t lying. Every detail you provided matched what he had read, and then some. You spoke of nuances only someone who had been there could know. It was astonishing.

“You knew her,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Truly knew her.”

You smiled softly. “I did. And I see a piece of her in you.”

Vil felt a shiver run down his spine. It was a compliment of the highest order. He had spent his life striving to be as captivating, as powerful, as poised as the Beautiful Queen. To hear it from someone who had been by her side… it felt surreal.

He was full of questions. What perfumes did she favor? What was her personal beauty regimen? Did she ever feel insecure, even at the peak of her rule? Was there ever a moment where she faltered? He wanted to know everything, every secret, every unspoken detail.

But what truly fascinated him was your perspective. “You must have been close to her,” he mused, watching you carefully. “Did you ever fear her?”

You considered the question, tilting your head slightly. “Fear? No. I respected her. She was cunning, but she was not cruel without cause. She understood the weight of power and the cost of beauty. She taught me that to be admired, one must be feared just enough.”

Vil’s lips curled into a slow smile. “And do you follow that lesson still?”

“I do,” you admitted. “But I’ve learned that admiration without understanding is shallow. The Queen was feared for her beauty, but few understood the burden of it. You, however, understand that weight. That’s why you are not just beautiful,you are formidable.”

His breath caught. Flattery was nothing new to him, but your words held the weight of history, of someone who had seen legends rise and fall. To be acknowledged by you was no small thing.

From that moment on, Vil held you in the highest regard. He valued your opinion on everything,his performances, his fashion choices, his approach to leadership. You weren’t just another admirer, you were someone who had witnessed true greatness and found him worthy of the same heights.

And in return, he ensured that you were treated with the dignity you deserved. If anyone dared to question your wisdom, they faced his scathing tongue. If anyone disrespected you, he reminded them, with icy precision, that you were not just anyone.

You were legacy. You were history.

And in his eyes, you were nothing short of magnificent.

Idia Shroud

For someone who spent most of his time locked away in his room, Idia knew a surprising amount about the Great Seven. Not just the basic history everyone learned in school,he knew the strategies they used, the choices that led to their victories, the little details that only the most obsessive researchers could piece together.

So when he found out that you, his s/o, had actually known them? Had worked alongside them? Had been there for everything?

Yeah. That was a full system crash moment.

"You're—you’re serious? You're not messing with me? You actually met them?" Idia’s voice was higher-pitched than usual, his hair sparking wildly.

You nodded, amused by his reaction. "I didn’t just meet them, Idia. I was their acolyte. I worked beside them. I saw them rise to power."

Idia made a noise somewhere between a gasp and a strangled squeak. He scrambled to grab his tablet, typing furiously. "Okay, okay, hold up,I need details. All of them. What were they actually like? Did they really do all those things the history books say? "

You told him about the Queen of Hearts’ unwavering sense of order, the King of Beasts’ cunning, the Sea Witch’s unmatched charisma. You spoke of the Sorcerer of the Sands' intellect, the Fairest Queen’s beauty and ambition, the king of the under wicked humor, and the thorn fairy unmatched power.

Idia hung onto every word like he was absorbing the lore of his favorite RPG. "Wait, wait,so the Lord of the underworld was actually as sarcastic as the stories say? And the Sea Witch? A total manipulator, right?"

You grinned. "You have no idea."

Idia let out an excited wheeze, nearly vibrating. "This is insane. My partner is literally the ultimate lore drop. This is like finding a hidden character in a game that suddenly reveals the entire backstory of the world!"

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Glad to know I’m just a walking DLC to you."

"No, no, you’re, like, the main storyline! The secret boss fight with a tragic yet incredible backstory! The one that players theorize about for years!"

You shook your head, but you couldn’t help the fond smile on your lips.

Later, as he finally calmed down, he looked at you, quieter now, more thoughtful. "You know… that must’ve been lonely. Living through all that, watching history play out firsthand."

You hesitated. "…Sometimes. But I had them. And now, I have you."

His hair turned pink. "Ugh, you can’t just say things like that. It’s super effective, okay? My HP is dropping."

You chuckled, leaning closer. "Then I guess I’ll have to revive you."

Idia sputtered, turning bright red. "G-great, now I’m dealing with status effects. I didn’t sign up for a romance route!"

You only laughed, watching as he melted into a flustered mess.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus had lived for centuries, his lifespan stretching far beyond that of most beings. Yet, for all his years, he had never encountered someone quite like you,someone who had not only witnessed history but had actively shaped it. You weren’t just a bystander to the stories of the Great Seven; you had stood beside them, walked through the rise and fall of their reigns, seen their triumphs and their downfalls with your own eyes.

It fascinated him.

Dragons hoarded treasures, and Malleus had spent his long life collecting knowledge, legends, and history. But you,your memories were worth more than any artifact. You weren’t just a piece of history; you were history.

“I have read countless accounts of the Great Seven,” he mused one evening, his emerald eyes glowing in the dim candlelight of the Diasomnia dorm. “Yet none compare to hearing the truth from you.”

You laughed softly. “You say that now, but if I start rambling about how the Queen of Hearts once lost a game of croquet to a commoner, you might change your mind.”

Malleus’ lips curled into a rare smile. “On the contrary, I find such tales far more valuable than the embellished versions written in books.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze intent. “Tell me more. What were they truly like?”

So you told him,of the Queen of Hearts' temper, the King of Beasts' boundless charisma, the Sea Witch’s cunning. You painted them as they truly were, not just as rulers but as people with flaws and ambitions, regrets and victories. Malleus listened, utterly captivated, hanging onto your every word.

Yet, even with all his fascination, there was something deeper beneath it,something warm, something fond.

“I envy you,” he admitted one night, voice low and contemplative. “To have known such figures personally, to have stood beside them in their prime… It must have been extraordinary.”

You tilted your head. “It was. But it was also lonely.”

His expression shifted, as if he understood all too well. “Ah.”

A quiet stretched between you, comfortable yet laced with unspoken words. Malleus had spent much of his life set apart from others, and though he was feared and respected, few truly knew him. You, however, did. And you, more than anyone, knew what it was like to outlive those around you.

“You are not alone,” Malleus said at last, his voice carrying a quiet promise. “You need not carry their stories by yourself. If you wish, I will remember them with you.”

Something in your chest tightened at that,at the sincerity in his voice, at the way his glowing gaze held yours as if offering you something precious.

You smiled. “I’d like that, Malleus.”

His eyes softened, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly understood.

English is not my first language

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderlands headcanon #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #OB student #OB x reader #riddle rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #Azul Ashengrotto #jamil viper #Vil Schoenheit #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x reader #malleus draconia #platonic twst

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itendtothinkalot · 7 months ago

Text

mr oh so popular (grumpy x sunshine ish)

summary: your life has always been pretty normal—nothing too exciting, just the usual. but then, bam! you walk past the campus heartthrob, yeonjun, only to find him face down on the ground, knocked out cold. and of course, your best friend insists on dragging him home to nurse him back to health. but here's the twist—why is he not as awful as you thought he'd be???

genre: flluff

characters: yeonjun x f!reader, best friend!beomgyu

words: 14k

warnings: period talk i guess, cuss words

There’s something magical about walking across campus at night. It’s quiet, the stars are out, and the looming stress of exams feels a little less crushing. Well, until your best friend opens his mouth.

“You know, if I had superpowers, I’d probably choose invisibility,” Beomgyu declared, waving a half-eaten popsicle like a scepter.

“That’s unoriginal,” you said, kicking a stray pebble across the pavement. “What’s the point of invisibility anyway?”

“Uh, everything? Sneaking into movie theaters. Skipping boring lectures. Spying on people to see what they say about me—”

You stopped walking and shot him a look. “Beomgyu, no one is talking about you. Or me. We're invisible enough.”

Beomgyu groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. “Ouch. Speak for yourself. I am not invisible.”

You raised an eyebrow, silently daring him to prove it. Right on cue, the sounds of cheering and laughter erupted from the quad, where a small crowd had gathered.

“Case in point.” Beomgyu pointed toward the commotion. At the center of it all, like a deity holding court, was none other than Choi Yeonjun.

There he was, perched on a bench, his grin brighter than the lampposts around him. Someone had thrown a varsity jacket over his shoulders, and it only made him look more cool (which you would never admit to anyone). People hung on his every word, laughing at jokes that probably weren’t even funny. Typical.

Beomgyu sighed, pointing at the popular male. “Y’know what, I changed my answer! That’s the kind of power I’d want. Not invisibility—charisma.”

You scoffed. “Charisma isn’t a superpower.”

“Tell that to him.” Beomgyu jabbed his popsicle stick in Yeonjun’s direction, where he’d just effortlessly flipped a water bottle, earning cheers like he’d just solved world hunger.

“Ugh.” You groaned, grabbing Beomgyu’s sleeve to pull him away before he started gawking in public. “I don’t get the hype. He’s not even that hot.”

“Not even that hot?” Beomgyu scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, you have to admit he’s objectively good-looking. Like, the guy could model for a skincare commercial. Dude’s poreless.”

“Sure, if you’re into guys who have a cardboard personality” you muttered.

Beomgyu snorted. “I’m just saying, there’s a reason half the campus follows him around like lost puppies. He’s got charisma or… something.”

“Well, good for him,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Meanwhile, the rest of us are just trying to survive finals week without a parade every time we turn in a paper.”

Here’s the thing about you two: You’d like to think you’re invisible to the student body, but that’s only half true. You’re invisible. Beomgyu, on the other hand, is doing just fine socially. Not popular, but just cool enough to get invited to parties and group chats. And yet, here he was, sticking to you like glue.

He calls it loyalty. You call it his inability to let go. Not that you minded. You loved him as much as he loved you.

Listen, you weren’t considered lame. You weren’t “unpopular”. You just… never stood out. Regular clothes. Regular reputation. Just… regular. It didn’t bother you most of the time. But when you stood next to Beomgyu—who, on his worst day, could still charm an entire room—it was hard not to feel like his boring sidekick.

“You know what your problem is?” Beomgyu asked suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm, let me guess,” you said dryly. “I don’t appreciate Yeonjun enough?”

“Well, yeah, but also, you don’t try to stand out. Like, at all. Maybe if you wore something other than jeans and that same hoodie every day—”

“It’s comfortable,” you snapped, defensively tugging at your hoodie.

“Comfortable doesn’t get you noticed,” Beomgyu countered, skipping ahead of you and turning to walk backward so he could wag his finger at you. “Look, you’re pretty but you’re always–”

“Gyu. I don’t want to be noticed,” you muttered, but your protest was drowned out by a sudden loud cheer coming from the quad.

Both of you turned instinctively. Of course, it was Yeonjun again, grinning like a celebrity as someone snapped a picture of him doing… I don’t know, something amazing. He could probably sneeze and get a standing ovation.

Beomgyu sighed dramatically. “Dude, just look at him”

You groaned and kept walking. “Let’s just get back to the apartment before you write him a fan letter.”

Beomgyu chuckled but didn’t argue.

—

“Crap.”

The word slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. Beomgyu, who had been sprawled across the couch scrolling on his phone, glanced over at you with a raised brow.

“What’s your problem?” he asked, not even bothering to sit up.

“I think…” you trailed off, your face already flushing with embarrassment. “Ugh. I think I just got my period.”

Beomgyu blinked at you for a solid three seconds before casually returning his gaze to his phone. “So? Deal with it like you always do.”

“I can’t!” you snapped, flailing your arms. “I’m out of everything. Pads. Tampons. Literally everything.”

“Okay…?” He looked at you blankly, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

“Okay? Beomgyu, this is an emergency. We need to go to the convenience store. Now.”

“We?” he repeated, his voice laced with protest. “Why do I have to come? You can go by yourself. You’re a fully functioning human with feet and hands.”

You shot him a glare, “Because I don’t want to walk there alone in the middle of the night, and you’re supposed to be my best friend. Remember? Loyalty and all that BS.”

He groaned dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. “This is not what I signed up for..”

“Oh, please. Like you’re doing anything important.” You gestured to his phone. “Come on, Beomgyu. You’re being useless, as always.”

“That’s Mr. Useless to you,” he grumbled, but he finally sat up, grabbing his jacket off the armrest. “Fine. Let’s go. But I’m not carrying anything embarrassing.”

“You’re carrying the basket,” you said, already grabbing your own jacket.

“What—? Hey! No way! You’re just gonna fill it up with feminine products and egh…”

The walk to the convenience store wasn’t too long, but Beomgyu made sure to complain the entire way.

“Why can’t you just stockpile this stuff like a normal person?” he whined, dragging his feet as you power-walked ahead of him.

“Why can’t you just shut up and help me?” you shot back.

The fluorescent lights of the convenience store were a welcome relief. You beelined for the feminine products aisle while Beomgyu lingered by the snacks, pretending he wasn’t with you.

“CHOI BEOMGYU!” You called him over.

He looked up as if embarrassed to be around you, “Don’t use my maiden name in public like this!”

“Hurry up!” you called over your shoulder.

He reluctantly shuffled over, standing awkwardly next to you as you scanned the shelves. “Do you really need me for this?”

“Yes, because if I faint from blood loss, someone needs to carry me out,” you said dramatically, grabbing a pack of pads and throwing it into his arms.

He caught it, holding it like it was a live grenade. “Why am I holding this?”

“Because you’re the basket now,” you said, grabbing another pack just in case.

“Oh my god, wait—why is this, like, 16 inches?” Beomgyu asked, holding up a pack of pads like it was radioactive. His eyes were wide with genuine horror. “How big is your vagina?”

You shot him a deadpan look. “I don’t see you complaining when you’re telling me stories about you and your girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend!” he corrected, practically shouting. “And I told you not to bring her up.”

“Oh, please. You’ll be calling her tomorrow, begging her to take you back. Like you always do.”

“I’ve matured since our breakup,” he insisted, puffing out his chest in mock dignity.

“You broke up yesterday.”

Beomgyu sighed dramatically, letting his arms go limp, the packs of feminine products dangling helplessly. “I don’t get paid enough for this friendship.”

“You don’t get paid at all,” you reminded him, already walking toward the register.

“And that is the problem,” he muttered under his breath, trailing after you with the enthusiasm of a kid being dragged to the dentist.

At the register, the cashier barely blinked at the assortment of items Beomgyu dumped onto the counter, but he was already bracing himself for humiliation.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispered to you through gritted teeth as the cashier scanned the pads.

“I wasn’t going to,” you replied innocently, though you couldn’t hide the smirk tugging at your lips.

Beomgyu glared at you, clearly regretting every decision that had led him to this moment.

As the cashier handed over the bag, Beomgyu grabbed it like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. “Let’s go. Now.”

The walk back was surprisingly quiet—at least until Beomgyu couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “I feel like I’ve just leveled up as a person. Like, this is a huge character development for me. I should probably put ‘Women’s Rights Activist’ on my Tinder profile.”

You snorted, shifting the bag in your arms. “Right…because you didn’t just complain the whole time we were in there.”

“I’ve changed…I am in fact the world’s best Female Supporter. Write that down.” he declared, nudging your shoulder.

“You’re not right but not wrong either,” you said dryly, rolling your eyes. ��But don’t flatter yourself too much. You’re just barely tolerable to the female specimen.”

“Admit that I’m an amazing best friend though,” he said, flashing you a grin. “You’d be lost without me.”

“You’re right,” you conceded, smirking as you turned the corner toward your apartment complex. “Who else would I drag into my nonsense?”

He threw his arms out dramatically, like some tragic hero in a play. “Exactly. I’m basically a saint. Carrying the weight of this friendship on my—”

He froze mid-sentence, and you almost bumped into him.

“Can’t you see where you’re going, you noob?” you groaned, peeking around him—and stopped dead in your tracks.

Right there, sprawled across the pavement in front of the building like a very poorly placed mannequin, was none other than Yeonjun, the school’s King himself.

“Is… is he dead?” Beomgyu whispered, clutching your arm in a panic.

“Why would you say that?!” you hissed, smacking his hand away.

“He’s not moving! Look at him!”

And he wasn’t. Yeonjun, campus royalty and the undisputed king of cool, was lying face down in the middle of the pathway. His designer sneakers were scuffed, his shirt was wrinkled, and his golden hair was sticking up in about twenty different directions.

“We should call someone,” you muttered, reaching for your phone.

Before you could dial, Yeonjun stirred, groaning like something out of a zombie movie. Beomgyu yelped and practically jumped behind you.

“He’s alive!” Beomgyu whisper-shouted, like that made things any less terrifying.

“Barely, he’s drunk like hell.” you muttered.

And then it happened. Yeonjun pushed himself up on shaky arms, blinked at you both with bleary, unfocused eyes… and promptly threw up all over the pavement.

Both of you screamed.

—

You knew Choi Beomgyu was going to be the death of you one day. He was too kind for his own good, and you were convinced that if an armed robber ever needed help, Beomgyu would probably assist them without realizing the situation. He was nice. Too nice.

“I still don’t see why we had to help him,” you muttered, crossing your arms as you leaned against the kitchen doorway.

“He was lying on the ground in the middle of the night,” Beomgyu said, grabbing a glass from the cupboard.

“And?” you countered. “Maybe his friends ditched him for a reason. Ever think about that? What if it’s some kind of prank?”

“It’s 12 AM, not exactly prank o’clock,” Beomgyu replied, filling the glass with water. “I’ll grab him some painkillers. Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“Why do I have to stay with him? What if he wakes up and murders me?” you protested.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Beomgyu said with a roll of his eyes. “He’s barely conscious. Relax.”

And with that, Beomgyu disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with the stranger.

You turned your gaze to Yeonjun, sprawled out on the couch like some tragic hero from a drama. His disheveled hair framed a face that was undeniably handsome, even with the faint scent of alcohol still lingering in the air. At least Beomgyu had cleaned him up and changed him out of his puke-soaked clothes into something fresh.

With hesitant steps, you approached him, unable to resist examining his face more closely. He looked peaceful like this, his breathing steady.

Then his eyes fluttered open.

You screamed, stumbling back.

“Whoa, whoa!” Yeonjun groaned, holding up a hand as if to shield himself from your outburst. His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” you snapped, heart racing. “You’re the one who just woke up like a zombie in the middle of the night!”

Yeonjun winced, pressing a hand to his temple. “Can you not yell? Feels like my head’s splitting in two.”

You froze, unsure of what to do. Beomgyu had left you alone with this stranger, and now he was awake and talking. Great.

“Where… am I?” Yeonjun croaked, his voice hoarse.

“Our apartment,” you replied curtly, motioning to the space around him. “You passed out on the street like an idiot. Beomgyu thought it’d be fun to drag you here instead of letting you rot out there like a normal person would.”

Yeonjun blinked, the name striking a faint chord in his alcohol-muddled mind. “Beomgyu?” he repeated, the syllables sluggish on his tongue.

“That’s me!” Beomgyu chimed as he entered the room, balancing a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of painkillers in the other. He grinned at Yeonjun, his usual sunny demeanor unbothered by the tension. “Hey, glad you’re awake! Here, drink this.”

Yeonjun looked between the two of you, his confusion deepening. “Wait… you both found me on the floor of…where?”

“Yeah,” Beomgyu replied cheerfully, handing over the water and pills. “You were passed out outside the convenience store. We couldn’t just leave you there.”

“We could’ve,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at Beomgyu.

Beomgyu ignored you and focused on Yeonjun. “You didn’t look like you were in any shape to get home on your own, so we brought you here.”

Yeonjun hesitated, taking the glass of water with an awkward nod. “Thanks, I guess… but, uh, do I know you guys?”

“I’m Beomgyu,” Beomgyu answered, flashing a smile. He gestured toward you, introducing you. “Pretty sure we share a few classes.”

You gave a nonchalant shrug, clearly unimpressed.

Yeonjun squinted, his mind struggling to place you both. “Yeah, you do look kind of familiar…”

“Kind of?” you scoffed. “Unbelievable. You pass out drunk, and now you can’t even remember who dragged you off the sidewalk. Typical.”

“Don’t mind her,” Beomgyu said, brushing off your snarky tone. “She’s just cranky because it’s past her bedtime.”

You shot him a glare. “Cranky because you invited a total stranger into our apartment without asking. Much less one that reeks of alcohol.”

Yeonjun, still processing everything, shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “So… this is your apartment? Like, you two live together?”

“Obviously,” you replied. “Welcome to our apartment. We’re kind of like Good Samaritans. Except I’m not.”

Yeonjun let out a weak laugh, unsure if he should be offended or amused. “Well, uh… thanks, I guess. I owe you one?”

“You owe me nothing,” you said with a smirk. “But you owe Beomgyu. Big time.”

Beomgyu chuckled, waving off the comment. “Just rest for now. Drink the water and take the painkillers. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Yeonjun nodded, sipping the water slowly. He couldn’t help but notice the way Beomgyu’s easy-going warmth contrasted sharply with your sharp tongue. Despite the headache and the awkward situation, a strange comfort crept into his chest.

“I’ll try to remember this,” Yeonjun muttered with a faint smile.

“You better,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Because if this happens again, I’m leaving you on the sidewalk next time.”

Beomgyu just laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t listen to her. She acts tough, but she’s nice deep down.”

“Deep, deep down,” you corrected.

Yeonjun chuckled despite himself. He had no idea how he ended up here, but something told him this wasn’t going to be the last time he saw the two of you.

You had gone to bed, hoping the night would pass quickly so you could finally deal with the unexpected guest in your living room. Helping people wasn’t the issue—you just hated helping those who didn’t seem to need it. Besides the fact he was piss drunk in the middle of the night after what seems like a frat party…seems like a life choice.

But sleep wouldn’t come. You’d been tossing and turning for over an hour, and Beomgyu’s loud snores echoed through the paper-thin walls of your apartment. With a groan of frustration, you gave up and decided to warm some milk, an old remedy that usually worked.

As you shuffled toward the kitchen, you noticed Yeonjun sitting on the couch, hunched over his phone, scrolling aimlessly. You hesitated, torn between retreating to avoid interaction or saying something. Socializing wasn’t exactly your strong suit, and starting a conversation felt like scaling a mountain.

Before you could decide, Yeonjun broke the silence.

“What do girls mean when they say they want a break?” he asked, turning to look at you.

Caught off guard, you paused mid-step, clutching the mug in your hand. For a moment, you considered ignoring the question entirely. But the earnest look in his eyes made it hard to brush him off.

You sighed, setting your mug on the counter as you leaned against the kitchen doorway. "That’s... a loaded question," you replied cautiously, eyeing him. "Depends on the girl, I guess. What’s the context?"

Yeonjun let out a soft, bitter laugh and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in messy tufts. "My girlfriend said she needed a break. No explanation, no real reason. Just… ‘I think we should take a break.’ What’s that even supposed to mean?"

You tilted your head, considering his words. "Could mean a lot of things," you said, grabbing the carton of milk from the fridge. "Maybe she’s overwhelmed. Maybe she’s bored. Or maybe she wants to break up but doesn’t want to say it outright."

His face fell, and you immediately regretted the bluntness.

"Sorry," you added quickly, pouring the milk into your mug. "I didn’t mean to sound harsh. It’s just… it’s better to be honest about what it could mean, right?"

Yeonjun leaned back against the couch, his phone forgotten in his lap. "Yeah, I guess. But I don’t get it. I thought everything was fine between us. We didn’t even fight. It came out of nowhere."

You turned on the stove, the faint hum of the burner filling the silence as you stirred the milk absently. "Sometimes it’s not about fighting," you said after a pause. "Sometimes people just… drift. Or they need time to figure things out. Doesn’t mean it’s your fault."

He stared at the ceiling, his jaw tightening. "It feels like it is, though. Like maybe I wasn’t enough."

You frowned, feeling an unfamiliar pang of sympathy. This wasn’t your usual realm of expertise, but seeing him so dejected tugged at something in you.

"You know," you started, glancing at him, "if she really cares about you, she’ll come back. And if she doesn’t, well… maybe she wasn’t the right person anyway."

Yeonjun turned his head to look at you, a faint, almost sad smile playing on his lips. "You sound like you’ve been through this before."

You snorted, turning back to your milk. "Not at all. I’m just good at reading people. Comes with the territory of being socially inept."

That earned you a soft chuckle, and the sound surprised you. It was the first time he’d laughed all night.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, his voice quieter. "For not sugarcoating it."

You shrugged, pulling the mug off the burner and pouring the warm milk into your cup. "Anytime. But don’t expect me to turn into a therapist or anything."

He nodded, his smile growing a little stronger. "Got it. No therapy sessions… just unsolicited midnight wisdom."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged at your lips.

“You want some?” you asked, pouring another glass of warm milk.

Yeonjun nodded, leaning back against the couch. “If you’d let me.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” You slid the glass toward him, the faint clink breaking the quiet.

He smiled as he took it. “Thanks. You know, now that I’m more sober, you’re actually a lot less scary than I thought.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Scary? You thought I was scary?”

“Well,” he began, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips, “I was drunk, passed out, and your initial idea was to leave me on the street.”

You shrugged, unfazed. “The drunk thing seems to be on your own accord, so… not really my problem if you ended up like that, now is it?”

Yeonjun chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re brutally honest, aren’t you?”

“Only to people who can take it.”

“And you think I can?”

“People are probably telling you every day how much they love you or want to be with you,” you said, your tone matter-of-fact. “I figure you can handle a couple of reality checks once in a while.”

Yeonjun blinked, then smirked. “Oh, so you pay attention to me?”

“It’s literally hard not to,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “You’ve got a whole posse everyone looks up to on campus. You’re kind of hard to miss.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on his knee. “Huh. And here I thought I was invisible to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not invisible, just… irrelevant. Until now.”

He laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Wow. You really don’t hold back, do you?”

“Why would I? You asked.” You sipped your milk nonchalantly, but you couldn’t help noticing the glimmer of genuine amusement in his gaze.

“Well,” he said, raising his glass in a mock toast, “here’s to being ‘less irrelevant.’”

You huffed out a quiet laugh despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck.”

“And if it counts for something,” Yeonjun added, his tone softening, “I really liked your speech last term. The one at the student rally—about climate change?”

You froze mid-sip, staring at him. “What?”

“It was you, right?” he pressed, tilting his head slightly. “You organized the whole thing?”

Your mind raced. No one had ever given you credit for the rally before. Most people either didn’t notice or assumed someone else was behind it. It wasn’t that you did it for recognition, but hearing Yeonjun bring it up left you momentarily speechless.

“Yeah,” you said finally, setting your mug down. “That was me.”

Yeonjun nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “I thought so. It was really good. You had everyone paying attention, and I don’t just mean your speech. The whole event—it felt… important. You made it feel important.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Compliments, especially about something you’d poured so much effort into, weren’t exactly something you were used to.

“Well,” you mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, “it’s not like I did it alone. There was a team.”

“Sure,” he said, his smile widening slightly, “but teams still need someone to lead them. And that was you, wasn’t it?”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, the usual sarcasm you armed yourself with felt unnecessary.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, your voice softer than usual. “That means… something.”

Yeonjun studied you for a moment before his smirk returned. “See? You’re not as scary as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, but this time, the gesture felt lighter. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he teased, raising his glass to take another sip of the milk. “I think I might be warming up to you.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you turned back toward the kitchen. “Good luck with that.”

—

The next morning, when you woke up, Yeonjun was already gone. On the coffee table, he’d left a note and, for some reason, a $10 bill. You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your face. You weren’t running a hostel, that was for sure.

Beomgyu wandered into the living room, rubbing his eyes, and picked up the note. “Ten bucks?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Does he think we’re a bed and breakfast for broke drunk kids? Also, why couldn’t it be a twenty?”

“What a switch-up from the ass-kisser last night,” you teased, grabbing the note from his hand.

“I couldn’t taint my image in front of campus royalty himself,” Beomgyu shot back, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, already heading toward the bathroom. “We’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass ready.”

As Beomgyu disappeared to get dressed, you glanced at the note again.

Thanks for the milk and the reality check. Maybe see you both on campus sometime?

It was signed with a small doodle of a smiley face, and you couldn’t help but shake your head.

Later that day, as you rushed through the crowded hallways of campus, you spotted Yeonjun. He was surrounded by his usual group, his laugh ringing out above the chatter. For a moment, his eyes met yours across the sea of students. He nodded before turning away.

Typical.

You knew nothing would be different. One night and a single conversation didn’t change anything, especially with someone like Yeonjun. It wasn’t as if his whole life hinged on that brief interaction. You and Beomgyu took your usual seats in the corner of the campus café, bantering like you always did.

You were mid-laugh at one of Beomgyu’s dramatic impressions when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with Yeonjun.

“Hey!” he said, his smile easy and confident, like he’d done this a hundred times before.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Uh, hey?”

Beomgyu arched an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. “Royalty graces us with his presence,” he quipped under his breath, loud enough for only you to hear.

Yeonjun chuckled, clearly unbothered. “Mind if I join you guys for a bit?”

“Sure,” you said before Beomgyu could say something snarky. You gestured to the empty chair across from you.

Yeonjun slid into the seat, setting down his bag. “So, I’ve been thinking about last night.”

“Oh no,” Beomgyu muttered dramatically, earning a light kick under the table from you.

Yeonjun grinned but stayed focused on you. “You were right.”

“About what?” you asked, genuinely puzzled.

“About the reality check,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You said people tell me what I want to hear all the time, and... yeah, you weren’t wrong. It’s refreshing to hear someone call me out instead of sugarcoating everything.”

You shrugged, unsure how to respond. “I wasn’t trying to give you some big epiphany. Just speaking the truth.”

“And I appreciated it,” Yeonjun said. “I’m not here to make it weird or anything. I just... wanted to say thanks. Also, you guys were a lot cooler about the whole drunk mess thing than most people would’ve been.”

“See?” Beomgyu piped up, smirking. “I am cool.”

Yeonjun laughed, and for a moment, the usual air of aloofness that seemed to follow him was gone.

“Well, if you want to thank us,” you said, crossing your arms, “you could’ve at least left twenty bucks instead of ten.”

Yeonjun raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted for next time.”

“Next time?” Beomgyu echoed, feigning horror.

Yeonjun shrugged, his grin widening. “What can I say? You guys might be growing on me.” Although his eyes were lingering on yours when he said the latter.

You rolled your eyes, but even you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. Maybe, just maybe, one night could change more than you thought.

“Well, I’ll catch up with you later!” Yeonjun said with a wave before getting up and walking off.

You watched him go, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Beomgyu leaned over and poked your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Ooooh, someone’s got a crush,” he teased.

“No, I don’t,” you shot back, swatting his hand away.

“Your ears are all red just from looking at him,” Beomgyu continued, undeterred.

“Oh, shut up. I just think he’s an okay person, that’s all,” you muttered, feeling the heat on your cheeks.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Sure, okay. Whatever you say.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying you with a playful smirk. “So what the hell happened last night while I was asleep anyway?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “We just talked. That’s it. Besides, he has a girlfriend or whatever.”

Beomgyu’s grin widened. “So you’re one of those kiss-and-don’t-tell types of people?”

“For the love of god, shut up,” you groaned, shoving a donut into his mouth to stop him from saying more.

He chewed, still grinning, but thankfully kept his comments to himself. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit of relief. The whole situation felt like a weird blur, but it wasn’t like you owed anyone explanations—least of all Beomgyu, who always had something to say.

“I’m just saying,” Beomgyu mumbled around the donut, “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him a pointed look. “If I say it’s nothing, then it’s nothing.”

Beomgyu grinned, clearly not convinced, but dropped the subject for now. "Whatever, you're still blushing."

“Shut up, Beomgyu,” you muttered again, but this time, you couldn’t quite stop the smile that tugged at your lips.

Beomgyu stood up, giving you a playful nudge. “You know, if you wanted to talk more about Yeonjun, I’m all ears. I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

You shot him a look, then grabbed your bag, shoving it over your shoulder. “I’m not talking about him. Ever. End of story.”

Beomgyu chuckled, following you out of the café. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

—

It was one of those rare times when Beomgyu wasn’t glued to your side. Usually, he was either at band practice, you were holed up in the library, or both. So, here you were, typing away at your thesis, getting lost in your thoughts, when you felt the chair next to you squeak as someone sat down. Not that you cared; the library was always packed on a Friday evening.

“Hey!”

You looked up to find Yeonjun grinning at you, his smile nearly infectious.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I saw Beomgyu, and he told me you’d be here. Looks like he knows you super well!”

You blinked in surprise, not quite sure how to react. The last time you saw him, things were casual, but this felt a bit more… personal? You adjusted in your seat, offering a small, polite smile.

“Oh, uh, yeah. He knows me better than I’d like to admit,” you said, feeling a bit awkward.

Yeonjun chuckled, his eyes still sparkling. “He said you’d be buried in work. You really take your studies seriously, huh?”

You shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. “I mean, I have to. It’s due soon.”

“I get that,” Yeonjun said, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed smile. “I’m actually impressed you’re still here. I would’ve bailed a while ago.”

“I’m just used to it,” you replied, glancing back at your screen. “I’ve got to finish this.”

The conversation lapsed into a quiet hum until you looked up at him, confused. “W... why were you looking for me? Do you need something?”

“Oh, I just… had fun talking to you the other night,” Yeonjun said casually, as if asking you out wasn’t the most difficult thing in the world. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner after this.”

He smiled, that damn perfect smile that made your heart skip a beat. You were caught off guard. You’d thought what happened the other night was just a one-time thing. You didn’t expect an actual friendship—or more—to come out of it.

“You want to have dinner with me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alone?”

Yeonjun leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “Are you gonna murder me?”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “No, I’m not gonna murder you.”

He cracked a smile. “Then yeah. I do. I think dinner with you sounds pretty good.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to read the situation. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy his company; it was more the suddenness of it all. But something about the way he asked—like it was a simple, natural thing—made you pause. Maybe you were overthinking it.

“Alright,” you said with a shrug, trying to sound casual. “I just have a couple of pages left. You can just…do something else first while you wait. I don’t want to bore you.”

“No, I’ll wait.” He smiled, resting his head in his arms on the table, turning to face you with a bright grin on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “You’re just gonna stare at me for the next hour or so?”

“Yeonjun smirked, his gaze never leaving you. “I don’t mind. You’re much more interesting than any textbook.”

You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks warm slightly, but you kept your cool. “Is that so?”

He nodded.

You ignored him, focusing on your work, trying to push back the heat creeping up on your cheeks. You hoped he couldn't tell just how nervous you were with him sitting right next to you.

How were you even supposed to react? The only guy you ever hung out with was Beomgyu, and the two of you couldn’t be more platonic if you tried.

“Hey, so like, are the two of you dating?” Yeonjun asked, breaking the silence.

You looked up from your paper, staring at Yeonjun for a moment before bursting out laughing. “Me and Beomgyu? No? No. That’s gross. No. No. Never.”

“That’s a mildly offensive reaction that I will not tell Beomgyu about.”

“Oh, trust me, he’d give you the same response if you asked him.”

Yeonjun chuckled. “You two just seem attached at the hip.”

“Well, he’s my only friend, and somehow he’s clingier to me than I am to him. I don’t know why.”

“It could be because you’re really great company.”

“Oh, who else would think that?”

“Me?”

“We’ve had one conversation—”

“Two,” he corrected, grinning.

“Two conversations,” you repeated, rolling your eyes.

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly closer. “I don’t know… I think we’re off to a solid start. Besides, it’s rare I actually enjoy talking to someone this much.”

You glanced at him, then smirked. “You seem to have the whole school at your feet. I’m pretty sure you could find someone if you just threw a fish hook out there.”

“Well… they’re not as blunt as you.”

“Do you not have anyone telling you the truth to your face?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do. My best friends. Soobin, I don’t know if you know him.”

“The tall one who does girl group dances on TikTok?” You chuckled, remembering the viral clips.

Yeonjun laughed, nodding. “Yeah. He’s great, but sometimes, you know, I don’t want him to worry too much. He treats me like his own child sometimes. It’s weird, especially since I’m older.”

You laughed softly at that. “I mean, I get it. Sometimes, friends can be overprotective, even when they don’t need to be.”

“Exactly,” he said, his tone a little more serious now. “But I guess it’s nice to have someone looking out for you.” He paused, giving you a sidelong glance. “Even if it gets a little annoying.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes people just want the best for you, even if it’s a little over the top.”

“Like you and Beomgyu,” Yeonjun said with a teasing grin.

“Are you sure the two of you aren’t a thing?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Positive.”

“Really?” Yeonjun sounded surprised.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “He’s just the only person who gets me.”

The conversation lingered in the air for a moment, and you returned to your work, but this time it felt a little less overwhelming, the atmosphere more relaxed. Maybe this wasn’t so weird after all.

—

At dinner, the atmosphere was calm at first, with you both eating in relative silence. Then, suddenly, Yeonjun slammed his chopsticks down on the napkin, causing you to jump, wide-eyed, and look up at him.

“I want what you and Beomgyu have!” he declared, his voice loud enough to catch the attention of a few nearby tables.

You blinked in confusion. “We have nothing.”

“Precisely,” he said with a sigh, leaning back in his seat. He looked both frustrated and thoughtful. “You remember the girl I told you about? My girlfriend—well, ex, I guess.”

You nodded slowly, unsure of where this conversation was going.

“We’ve been together for two years,” Yeonjun continued, running a hand through his hair. “And lately, I’ve started to realize... maybe I’ve just been keeping her around for comfort.”

You paused, taking in his words. The sincerity in his voice was clear, and it made you reflect on what he was saying. "What do you mean?" you asked carefully.

Yeonjun sighed again, the weight of his thoughts showing. “I don’t think I’m in love with her anymore. At least, not the way I should be. It’s like I’ve been holding on because it’s easy, because it’s familiar. And now... I don’t even know if that’s enough anymore.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he was admitting. “That sounds tough. But... maybe it’s better to face that now, rather than later.”

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t know what to do about it,” he said, his tone mixed with frustration and uncertainty.

“Sometimes you don’t have to have everything figured out right away. It’s okay to take a step back and think about what you really want. You can’t just keep holding on to something for the sake of comfort.” You spoke slowly, feeling the weight of your own words as they fell between you two.

Yeonjun nodded, though his expression remained conflicted. "I don’t want to hurt her, but I also don’t want to keep pretending. I don't want to be stuck in something out of habit."

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. "But didn’t she ask for a break?”

“She usually does that to get my attention.”

“That sounds not at all toxic.” you laughed.

Yeonjun let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know, it’s not healthy. But every time she does that, I feel like I’m losing her. It’s like I’m always on the edge of something—whether it’s fixing things or making them worse.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning in a bit. “So, it’s the constant cycle of drama keeping you in the relationship? Feels like a never-ending loop.”

He grimaced. “Yeah, pretty much. It's exhausting. But when it’s good, it’s really good, and I guess I keep thinking maybe we’ll get back to that.”

“But that’s the problem, right?” you said softly, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re holding onto the highs because you're afraid of letting go of the lows. But in the end, it’s the pattern that’s unhealthy, not just the relationship itself.”

Yeonjun nodded, the weight of your words sinking in. “I’ve been trying to avoid facing that. It's easier to stay in something familiar than to face the unknown, even if it means staying in a cycle that doesn’t make me happy anymore.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, giving him a knowing look. “It’s scary to let go, especially when you’ve been holding onto something for so long. But sometimes, letting go is the only way forward.”

The conversation lulled once again. You kept your eyes firmly on your plate, despite feeling his gaze on you. His persistence was relentless, especially with that sweet, almost oblivious smile he kept throwing your way.

Geez, it’s like he doesn’t know how cutehe is, you thought, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Hey,” Yeonjun’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft yet curious. “Did you mean it when you said you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

You nodded nonchalantly, shoving some rice into your mouth. “Yeah.”

“That’s surprising.”

You raised an eyebrow. “How so? I thought it was pretty obvious.” You chuckled, brushing it off with another bite.

“Well, it’s just...you’re so pretty.”

His words hit like a rogue wave. You inhaled sharply, immediately regretting it as the rice caught in your throat. You choked and coughed violently, tears springing to your eyes. Yeonjun froze, wide-eyed.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?!” He reached out, panicking as you thumped your chest, struggling to breathe.

“Water—” you croaked, pointing desperately.

He fumbled for the glass in front of you, but in his haste, managed to knock it over, sending the liquid cascading across the table. Both of you stared at the spreading mess before he scrambled for napkins.

“Seriously?!” you managed to rasp, still half-choking.

“I panicked!” he shot back, dabbing at the table like his life depended on it.

Finally catching your breath, you glared at him, tears streaming down your cheeks from the ordeal. “This—this is your fault!”

He raised his hands defensively, his expression guilt-ridden, before breaking into a sheepish grin. “How is this my fault?!”

You shook your head, not wanting to admit that his words had thrown you completely off guard.

“What? Has no one called you pretty before?” he joked, his tone light and teasing.

You froze, the teasing suddenly landing in a spot you weren’t ready to acknowledge. You looked at him quietly, lips pressing together in a thin line, before turning your gaze away.

His grin faltered, replaced by a soft curiosity. “You’ve…never been called that before?”

“And why would anyone ever call me that?” you said, rolling your eyes in an attempt to deflect, but the slight edge in your voice betrayed you.

“Because you are,” he said simply, his tone devoid of the usual playfulness. “I’ve always thought so.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “You’ve always thought so?” you echoed, skeptical.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Since the first time I saw you. You just don’t seem to realize it, which is kind of insane.”

Your face warmed, and you tried to mask it with a sarcastic laugh. “Right, and I suppose this is the part where I swoon over you and your grand compliments? Oh great Yeonjun, do sprinkle me with some more compliments!”

Yeonjun chuckled, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You can swoon later. For now, I’ll just take the victory of seeing you blush.”

“I’m not blushing,” you retorted, pushing your plate away dramatically.

“Sure, sure,” he said, smirking as he sat back. “Let’s just say you win this argument because I’ve won something else tonight.”

You stared at him, incredulous, before bursting into laughter. “And what is that?”

“An image of you choking on rice.,” he quipped, his grin widening.

“You’re an idiot.” You shook your head, unable to fight the smile tugging at your lips.

—

Days passed, and before you knew it, Yeonjun started showing up during lunch, casually plopping himself down next to you and Beomgyu like it was the most natural thing in the world. At first, Beomgyu gave him suspicious side-eyes, but Yeonjun’s easy charm wore him down.

Soon enough, Yeonjun began bringing his friend Soobin along. Quiet at first, Soobin would sit awkwardly beside Yeonjun, nibbling on his food while the rest of you chatted. But it didn’t take long for Beomgyu to drag Soobin into his whirlwind of jokes and antics, and suddenly the four of you were a group.

Once or twice a week, the four of you would find yourselves huddled together during lunch or after school, trading stories, cracking jokes, or, in Beomgyu’s case, plotting unnecessarily dramatic ways to prank unsuspecting classmates.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but the dynamic had shifted. What was once just you and Beomgyu had expanded into something bigger—and, maybe, better.

“I can’t believe it’s not just the two of us anymore,” you muttered to Beomgyu one afternoon as you watched Yeonjun and Soobin argue over who was better at Mario Kart.

Beomgyu smirked, leaning back against the cafeteria bench. “Oh, come on, you’re having fun. Just admit it.”

“I was perfectly content with it being just us,” you said, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. “But… it doesn’t suck having them around too.”

“Yeah, it’s the first time I’ve seen a duo as chaotic as us,” Beomgyu said, motioning toward Yeonjun, who was dramatically accusing Soobin of cheating.

Soobin, clearly exasperated, shoved Yeonjun lightly. “How do you even cheat at Mario Kart? It’s literally luck!”

“You took all the item boxes!” Yeonjun shot back, crossing his arms in mock betrayal.

“Wow,” Beomgyu said, shaking his head with feigned seriousness. “And I thought we were immature.”

“Y’know we can hear you two, right?” Soobin rolled his eyes.

“Kinda counting on it,” you replied with a shrug, sliding onto the bench between Soobin and Yeonjun. “Now, enough. I don’t need the two of you to end up throwing popcorn around like last night.”

“We picked it up straight after,” Soobin defended himself.

“I found two stray kernels behind the couch yesterday,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you, giving Soobin a playful shove on the arm. "Two. Stray. Popcorn pieces. I rest my case."

Soobin groaned dramatically, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I’m guilty. But next time, I’ll make sure Yeonjun eats all the evidence.”

“Me?” Yeonjun exclaimed, looking offended. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the one who knocked the bowl over in the first place!”

As the three of you bickered, Yeonjun’s gaze shifted for a moment. He noticed the way you laughed at Soobin’s retort, your head tilted slightly as you leaned closer to him. And when Soobin smirked and flicked your shoulder in retaliation, Yeonjun caught the glimmer of fondness in your eyes.

A thought crept into his mind, unbidden and unwelcome: Do they like each other?

He shook his head slightly, trying to push it away. But the more he observed, the harder it was to ignore. Your casual ease around Soobin, the way you teased him without hesitation, and the soft way Soobin seemed to glance at you when he thought no one else was looking—it all painted a picture Yeonjun couldn’t ignore.

“Earth to Yeonjun,” Beomgyu’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Yeonjun blinked, realizing everyone was now staring at him.

“You’ve been spacing out for a solid minute,” Beomgyu teased, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Nothing,” Yeonjun said quickly, plastering on a smile. “I was just thinking about… Mario Kart strategies.”

Soobin snorted. “Sure you were.”

Yeonjun’s smile faltered slightly, but he forced himself to focus on the moment instead of the nagging thoughts in his head. If there was something between you and Soobin, he’d figure it out eventually—or, at the very least, stop thinking about it so much. Or so he hoped. In fact, he didn’t even know why that thought bothered him.

—

You glanced at your watch, then scanned the area for your friends, who were now ten minutes late. Weird, you thought. Sure, they were always late, but for lunch? Never. You were just about to call Beomgyu when his text came through: Gonna be a bit late, sorry! Not long after, Soobin messaged the same thing.

You sighed, already bracing for a solo lunch when a pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders from behind.

“Boo!”

You screamed out of reflex, jerking forward and nearly tripping, only for Yeonjun to catch you by the arms. For a moment, you were staring directly into his eyes, close enough to see the tiny flecks of brown in them. Your face heated up as you pushed him away.

“You—you little shit!” you shouted, your voice louder than you intended. “You scared me!”

Yeonjun burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Oh, come on, that was barely a scare!”

“Don’t do that!” You smacked his chest lightly, half-annoyed, half-flustered.

Still grinning, Yeonjun checked his phone. “Looks like it’s just the two of us for lunch today.”

“Oh dear god, save me,” you groaned dramatically.

He laughed again, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the canteen. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It'll be fun. Let’s go!”

To be honest, you still felt a little awkward hanging out with Yeonjun alone. You couldn’t stand the attention the two of you seemed to attract. With Soobin and Beomgyu around, there was always someone to deflect the focus, but being alone with someone as popular as Yeonjun was... exhausting.

Every few minutes, a girl would walk up to make a casual pass at him, twirling her hair or giggling at whatever he said, while Yeonjun just smiled politely. If it wasn’t a girl, it was some frat bro bounding over with a fist bump and a loud, “Dude, it’s been forever!”

It was tiring.

You sat across from Yeonjun, trying to focus on your lunch while he chatted casually, seemingly unbothered by the interruptions. When yet another girl sidled up to your table with a too-sweet smile and a “Hi, Yeonjun~,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

When she finally left, you leaned forward and deadpanned, “Is this what your life is like every day? Because I think I’d rather die.”

Yeonjun chuckled, resting his chin in his hand. “Pretty much. Jealous?”

“Not in the slightest,” you shot back, stabbing a piece of chicken with your fork. “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Well,” he said, smirking, “having lunch with you is definitely the highlight. You don’t try to flirt with me.”

You choked on your water at his words, coughing violently.

“Are you okay?!” Yeonjun asked, wide-eyed as he handed you a napkin.

“I’m fine,” you wheezed, glaring at him through teary eyes. “Stop saying things like that. You’re gonna kill me.”

Yeonjun just laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leaned back in his chair. “See? Lunch with me is fun.”

“Sure. If it means being interrupted like a million times,” you sighed softly, taking another bite of your food.

“Though…” He paused, his gaze shifting toward you.

You looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Though what?”

“I did wish you would,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You tilted your head, confused. “Would what?”

“Never mind.” He waved it off quickly, shaking his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Dude…” You narrowed your eyes, now fully intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment, then let out a nervous chuckle. “I wish you would…flirt with me.”

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him, stunned.

“Y’know,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck, “I get it all the time from other people, but I don’t get it from the one girl who I think would actually be good at it.” He chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head. “It’s stupid, forget I said anything.”

“Why on earth would you think I’d be good at flirting?” you asked, baffled. “I’ve never done that in my entire life.”

Yeonjun smiled, soft and genuine. “Honestly? I think I’d like anything you said to me.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you couldn’t form a reply.

“Oh crap, I forgot ketchup,” he said suddenly, standing up. “I’ll be back.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you sitting there in stunned silence. His words replayed in your mind—“I think I’d like anything you said to me.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was he just joking, or was there something more to it?

You picked at your food absentmindedly, your thoughts spinning. When Yeonjun returned with his ketchup, he was back to his usual cheerful self, as if he hadn’t just casually dropped that bombshell.

“So, what did I miss?” he asked, settling back into his seat.

“Absolutely nothing,” you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. But deep down, you knew this lunch had changed something between you—and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

–

Yeonjun paced his room, running a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn’t stop. His thoughts had been circling like a storm, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t find a way to calm the chaos.

What was this feeling?

He’d never felt like this before—this unrelenting, all-encompassing focus on someone. On you.

When he slept, he dreamed of you. When he woke up, you were the first thing on his mind. In class, during every lecture, every fleeting second, he found ways to connect everything back to you. A joke you’d made, the way you furrowed your brow when you were deep in thought, the way you smiled.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Was it your smile? Or maybe it was your silliness—the way you could laugh at yourself and make him laugh, too. Or perhaps it was your honesty. The way you didn’t sugarcoat things. You were real with him in a way no one else ever dared to be.

But then his chest tightened as another thought crept in. The idea of Soobin liking you—of you liking Soobin—it hurt.

It hurt more than it should.

And Beomgyu—Beomgyu knew you better than anyone else. That bond, that closeness. It twisted something in Yeonjun’s chest, a feeling he hated acknowledging.

The idea of anyone liking you, of anyone else being the person you chose, was unbearable.

He groaned, grabbing a pillow and pressing it over his face. What the hell was he supposed to do with these feelings?

He had to get rid of these feelings fast especially since he knew you didn’t feel a single thing for him.

—

The bass of the music pulsed through Yeonjun’s body as he walked into the crowded house, a drink already being shoved into his hand by a friend he barely recognized. The room was alive with laughter, chatter, and the occasional shrill cheer as someone won at beer pong.

He should feel at home here. Normally, he thrived in this chaos, weaving his way through groups with a charming grin and a quick joke. Tonight, though, the party felt... off. But this was what he needed, right? To get over you.

Yeonjun scanned the room and spotted a girl standing by the bar, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She caught his eye and smiled, and for a moment, he let himself fall into autopilot.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly, leaning casually against the counter. “Can I get you a drink?”

She giggled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sure. What are you having?”

They exchanged playful banter as he poured her a drink, his usual charm kicking in effortlessly. She laughed at his jokes, leaning closer, and for a second, Yeonjun thought he was doing it—distracting himself, drowning out his thoughts of you.

But then she said something—he didn’t even register what—and her laugh didn’t sound like yours. Her smile didn’t light up her face the way yours did. Her words didn’t carry that teasing edge you always had when you talked to him.

And suddenly, it hit him.

He didn’t want her.

He wanted you.

His hand froze mid-air, the glass he was holding tipping slightly. The girl furrowed her brow, confused. “Are you okay?”

Yeonjun blinked, snapping back to the moment. “Yeah, uh, sorry,” he said quickly, setting the glass down and stepping back. “I just—I need to go.”

Without waiting for her response, he turned and pushed through the crowd, his chest tightening with every step. What the hell was he doing here?

He didn’t want some random girl at a party. He didn’t want to distract himself or pretend his feelings didn’t exist.

He wanted you.

And for the first time, he realized just how badly.

—

The four of you were gathered around your usual table at lunch, the cafeteria alive with chatter and clinking cutlery. You were in the middle of an impassioned rant about how your student rally had antis, your hands animatedly emphasizing every point.

“I mean, can you believe some people still think it’s not real? Like, the science is right there!” you exclaimed, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Yeonjun leaned forward slightly, his chin propped on his hand as he watched you with an almost dreamy expression. He wasn’t really hearing the details of what you were saying—he was too busy soaking in the way your eyes lit up, the determination in your voice, the little wrinkle between your brows when you were especially frustrated.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow as he noticed Yeonjun’s expression but stayed silent for the moment.

“And don’t even get me started on corporations acting like individual recycling efforts are enough to fix the problem,” you continued, your voice filled with passion. “We need systemic change, not just—ugh, whatever.” You sighed, leaning back and crossing your arms, visibly exasperated.

“You’re so right,” Yeonjun said suddenly, his voice softer than usual, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Thank you?”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you said a moment later, standing and grabbing your bag. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you were out of earshot, Beomgyu leaned across the table, pointing a fry at Yeonjun. “Okay, what’s your deal?”

“What?” Yeonjun asked, startled, though the tips of his ears turned pink.

“You’ve been staring at her like she hung the moon,” Soobin chimed in, smirking as he sipped his drink. “It’s painfully obvious.”

Yeonjun tried to laugh it off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his grin mischievous. “You’re whipped. Admit it.”

Yeonjun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Can you two not?”

“Dude, it’s fine,” Soobin said, laughing. “Just tell her already. This whole lovesick puppy thing is kind of embarrassing.”

Yeonjun peeked through his fingers, glaring at him. “She doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? So just drop it.”

Beomgyu and Soobin exchanged a look, their teasing smiles softening slightly.

“Well, she’s not going to know if you don’t tell her,” Beomgyu said after a moment, his voice unusually serious.

“Yeah,” Soobin added. “And honestly, she’d be lucky to have you.”

Yeonjun looked down at the table, his heart racing as he replayed the way you’d smiled while talking about something you cared so much about.

Maybe they were right. But the thought of risking your friendship still terrified him. Especially a friendship like yours.

—

The library was unusually quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, save for the occasional rustle of papers or the soft murmur of students whispering to one another. You and Yeonjun had claimed a table in the far corner, textbooks sprawled out in front of you as you both attempted to study. Well, you were attempting; Yeonjun was too busy doodling cartoonish faces on the corner of his notebook and cracking terrible jokes that somehow still managed to make you smile.

“Okay, but seriously, why do you write your notes like this?” he asked, pointing at your color-coded bullet points. “It’s like an art exhibit for highlighters.”

“Because it works,” you replied, swatting his hand away before he could smudge your meticulously written notes. “Maybe if you stopped doodling and actually read the material, you wouldn’t need to borrow my notes every time.”

“I’m a visual learner,” he said with a smirk. “I need diagrams, not words.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. Just as you were about to nudge him for his lack of effort, a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey, Yeonjun,” a girl said, her voice dripping with a mixture of shyness and flirtation. She held a notebook to her chest, her gaze flicking briefly to you before focusing solely on him. “I was wondering if you could help me with something from class.”

Yeonjun blinked, caught off guard. “Me? I’m the last person you should be asking.”

The girl leaned in a little too close, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, c’mon, it’d be fun~”

Your hand froze mid-note. You tried not to react, keeping your gaze fixed on your textbook, but the awkward tension was palpable. Yeonjun, to his credit, just laughed nervously and said, “You could always e-mail your professor,” before the girl finally left, albeit reluctantly.

You barely had time to process the encounter before another girl appeared five minutes later, giggling as she asked him to sign her notebook because it was “a good-luck charm.” Then came another, offering him a snack and batting her eyelashes so furiously you were surprised she could still see.

By the third interruption, you’d had enough. Not because you were angry, but because it was clear you couldn’t get any studying done with 100 girls coming up to get their way to him. You quietly stood, gathering your things. “I’ll give you some space,” you said lightly, trying to sound nonchalant. “Looks like you’ve got a fan club.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up. “What? No, wait—” He grabbed your wrist before you could step away, his grip firm but gentle. His voice was louder this time, drawing the attention of the girls hovering nearby. “Actually, girls y’know what, I’d really appreciate it if everyone understood that I already have a girlfriend.”

Your eyes widened in shock as he turned to look at the group, a confident grin spreading across his face.

One of the girls frowned. “Who?”

He pointed directly at you. “Her.”

You stared at him, absolutely floored. “Excuse me?” you whispered harshly.

Yeonjun only shrugged, leaning back in his chair like it was the most natural thing in the world. “What? It’s true. Well, kinda,” he muttered under his breath, low enough that only you could hear.

The girls exchanged looks, clearly skeptical but unwilling to press further. One by one, they walked away, their disappointed expressions oddly satisfying. Once they were gone, you yanked your arm free, glaring at him.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, your cheeks burning.

Yeonjun grinned, completely unapologetic. “What? You were gonna leave me to fend for myself. I had to do something.”

“You couldn’t just say you weren’t interested like a normal person?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

You groaned, sinking back into your chair. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re still here,” he pointed out, smirking.

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

—

The cafeteria was buzzing with its usual chaos—trays clattering, voices rising, and the occasional shriek of someone almost spilling their drink. You were balancing your lunch tray, trying to make your way to the table where Beomgyu and Soobin were already seated, but as soon as they spotted you and Yeonjun walking in together, their heads whipped toward you like they’d just uncovered the scandal of the century.

The grins on their faces were impossible to ignore.

“So,” Beomgyu began as soon as you sat down, his tone dripping with faux disappointment. “You confessed to my best friend without even telling me?” He sighed dramatically, clutching his chest like you’d personally betrayed him. “I thought we were closer than this.”

You froze mid-bite of your sandwich. “What?”

“Don’t act innocent,” Soobin added, his usually calm demeanor betrayed by the mischievous glint in his eyes. He tilted his head toward Yeonjun, who had taken the seat next to you with the utmost confidence. “We heard about the library incident.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, glaring at Yeonjun. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” Yeonjun raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin only widening. “All I did was save you from leaving me alone with those girls.”

“Save me?” you repeated, incredulous. “You told everyone we’re dating!”

“Well,” Beomgyu chimed in, leaning forward with an eyebrow raised, “if you’re not dating, you two sure are doing a great job pretending otherwise. You literally walked in here together.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because we were coming from the same place. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Soobin said, his tone suspiciously neutral. “And sitting next to each other? Laughing like you’re in your own little world? Totally platonic, right?”

“I’m surrounded by idiots,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Nothing is going on. Yeonjun made up the girlfriend thing to get those girls off his back, and somehow, everyone else decided to turn it into a school-wide announcement.”

Beomgyu gasped theatrically. “So you’re fake-dating? This is even better.” He clapped his hands together like he’d just won the lottery. “This is straight out of a drama. What’s next? A contract?”

“Don’t give him any ideas,” you groaned, glancing at Yeonjun, who was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“I mean, it’s not the worst idea,” Yeonjun said, casually leaning back in his chair. “You get fewer annoying questions, I get fewer confessions to deal with—”

“Absolutely not,” you cut him off. “This is not happening.”

“Why not?” Beomgyu said, clearly loving every second of this. “Think about it. You’d make the perfect fake couple. The ‘grumpy and sunshine’ dynamic is a classic.”

“I am not grumpy!” you snapped, and Beomgyu cackled like he’d just proven his point.

Soobin, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You know, for something fake, you both seem awfully comfortable around each other.”

You stared at him, your brain struggling to form a coherent response. Yeonjun, on the other hand, just smirked.

“See? Even Soobin agrees,” Yeonjun said, shooting you a smug look. “Maybe there’s a reason everyone’s buying it.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “The only reason everyone’s buying it is because you’re too convincing for your own good.”

“Or,” Beomgyu teased, resting his chin on his hands, “because you’re secretly in love with him.”

You choked on your drink. “I—absolutely not!”

Yeonjun just grinned, leaning closer. “You sure about that?”

—

The café was buzzing with lunchtime chatter as you and Yeonjun settled into your seats. It was supposed to be a group lunch, but Beomgyu and Soobin had bailed last minute, claiming an urgent League of Legends match that couldn’t wait. Typical.

“Well, their loss,” Yeonjun said, popping a fry into his mouth. “More food for us.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. “Do you ever get tired of eating fries?”

“Never,” he replied with a grin. “Fries are the love of my life. No offense.”

“And why would that be offensive?” you said dryly, sipping your drink.

Midway through your conversation, Yeonjun stood up. “Gotta use the restroom. Don’t eat all the fries while I’m gone.” He shot you a playful wink before walking off, leaving you to roll your eyes again.

As you sat there scrolling through your phone, a girl approached your table, her perfectly styled hair and designer bag making her stand out. She stopped right in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze sharp.

“Hey,” she started, her tone clipped. “I’ve heard the rumors, and I just have to ask—are you really dating Yeonjun?”

You looked up, mildly surprised by the confrontation. “Uh, I guess. Why?”

Her lips twisted into a skeptical smile. “It’s just... you don’t really seem like his type, you know? No offense.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “None taken,” you said with a shrug, matching her energy. “But what’s his type, exactly?”

She blinked, clearly not expecting you to stand your ground. “Well... someone more... polished, I guess. Someone who matches his vibe. I’m just saying, you don’t seem like the kind of girl he’d go for.”

You set your drink down and met her gaze directly. “Cool. Thanks for your opinion. Anything else?”

Before she could respond, Yeonjun reappeared, his steps light but his expression sharp as he overheard the conversation. “What’s not to like about her?” he asked casually, sliding back into his seat beside you. His sudden presence made the girl stiffen.

“She’s smart, funny, and gorgeous,” Yeonjun continued, his tone unwavering as he gestured toward you. “And for the record, she’s perfect for me.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed like she was searching for a response. Finally, she managed to say, “It’s just…You could do so much better.”

Yeonjun tilted his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “There’s no such thing as better,” he said, his voice firm. “She’s already the best.”

Without breaking eye contact with the girl, he leaned toward you, his hand resting lightly on your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Which…well, caught you off guard.

When he pulled back, the girl looked utterly flustered, “I-I...hope the two of you are happy together then. I’m sorry.” she muttered before spinning on her heel and walking away.

Yeonjun turned to you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “That wasn’t too much, was it?”

You blinked, still processing what had just happened. “Uh... no?” Your cheeks heated up from the sudden intimacy.

“Good,” he said, grabbing another fry like nothing had happened. “Now, where were we?”

—

The cool night breeze swept over the two of you as you walked side by side down the dimly lit street. The sound of your footsteps filled the comfortable silence between you, the faint glow of streetlights illuminating Yeonjun’s sharp features. You stole a glance at him, your heart oddly heavy as you mulled over your thoughts.

“Uh, y’know…” you said softly, your voice barely cutting through the quiet.

“Hm?” he replied, turning his head slightly to look at you, his hands stuffed casually in his jacket pockets.

You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You… you kinda stole my first kiss, you know.”

He stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening in alarm. “Wait, that was your first kiss?” he asked, voice rising with panic. “Oh my God, I didn’t—I didn’t know! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Yeonjun,” you interrupted, laughing softly at his frantic apologies. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I just kissed you to get that girl to leave, and I didn’t even think—”

“Yeonjun,” you said more firmly, cutting him off again. “I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

That seemed to stop him in his tracks. He blinked, staring at you withcuriosity. “Really?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You looked away, your cheeks warming despite the cool breeze. “Honestly, I felt like I’d never lose my first kiss anyway,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “I’ve always thought it’d never happen.”

Yeonjun frowned, stepping closer. “What? Why would you think that?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile and attempting to wave it off. “It’s nothing. Let’s not—”

“No,” he interrupted, his tone firm. “Why are you so afraid of liking someone? Or being with someone?”

You bit your lip, looking away. “I just…” You hesitated, unsure if you could even put it into words. Finally, you sighed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I just feel like I wouldn’t be good enough for anyone.”

The silence that followed was heavy, and when you finally looked up, Yeonjun’s expression frustrated.

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice tight. “You’re the best person I know. Anyone would be lucky—so lucky—to even have you like them.”

You blinked, startled by the intensity of his words. “Yeonjun—”

“No,” he said, his tone firm. “You don’t get to say things like that about yourself. It’s not true, and it’s… it’s so frustrating that you don’t see what I see.”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. It wasn’t hurried or fleeting like before—it was soft.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his breathing uneven. “It’s just crazy how you don’t see how fucking amazing you are. You’re smart, you’re literally the prettiest person I’ve ever seen and honestly I don’t understand why you’re so cute. You’re the only person I’ve ever liked this much and it’s killing me.” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded slowly, your eyes still wide, your heart thudding against your chest.

“I’m stupid,” Yeonjun muttered, stepping back slightly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I didn’t mean to scare you—I shouldn’t have just blurted that out like that—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, your voice firmer than you expected. “I’m not scared at all. I just…” You trailed off, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

“You just what?” he asked, his tone softening as he leaned forward slightly, his eyes searching yours.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks warming. “I don’t really know how to deal with this,” you admitted quietly. “I’ve never... I’ve never had anyone say something like that to me before.”

Yeonjun’s brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “You deserve it,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “You deserve to hear it a hundred times. Every single day. You deserve to feel loved and appreciated and—and wanted.” His voice softened as he added, “Because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in. “Yeonjun…” you started, but you couldn’t find the right words to respond. Your mind was a blur of emotions, too overwhelmed to sort through them.

He reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around them. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” he said quietly. “I just… I need you to know how I feel. And I need you to stop doubting yourself because you’re everything to me.” He paused, then added with a small, almost shy smile, “Even if I totally botched this confession and stole your first kiss”

A laugh escaped your lips despite yourself, breaking the tension. “You didn’t botch it,” you said, shaking your head. “It was... really sweet.”

He grinned, his confidence returning just a little. “Yeah? Sweet enough to get you to go on an actual date with me?”

Your heart fluttered, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” you said softly, a smile spreading across your face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? Ouch,” he said dramatically, swinging your joined hands slightly, his teasing smile lighting up his face.

You chuckled, looking at him through your lashes. “I don’t know. You did kinda steal my first kiss.”

Yeonjun stopped walking for a moment, tilting his head as if deep in thought. Then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he said, “You can have it back.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours again, softer this time, as if savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, you were laughing, your cheeks warm and heart racing. “Actually, I think I’d rather you keep it,” you said, your laughter spilling over as you leaned forward to kiss him again, this time initiating it yourself. “Here,” you murmured against his lips.

Yeonjun smirked as you pulled back, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Two can play at this game, y’know.”

“Oh, can they?” you teased, arching a brow as you started to walk again, pulling him along by the hand.

He followed easily, still grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Oh, they can,” he said confidently. “But fair warning, I’m really good at this game.”

“Guess I’ll just have to keep up,” you replied, smiling. “Though, I’d appreciate it if we kept this a little secret for now. I don’t really need Beomgyu asking me for every detail.”

“Right…” Yeonjun nodded thoughtfully, though his grin didn’t falter. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. We’re friends! In fact, haven’t we gotten closer?”

You gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll probably want to interrogate you. Or worse…”

“But we’re friends…?” he repeated, as if that would shield him from the chaos to come.

“You don’t understand,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head. “He might be Beomgyu, but he’s insanely—and I mean insanely—protective.”

Yeonjun blinked at you for a moment before laughing. “Protective? Beomgyu? Are we talking about the same Beomgyu who steals fries off everyone’s plates and pretends to faint when he’s asked to help with anything?”

“Yes, that Beomgyu,” you replied with a deadpan expression. “The same one who ‘accidentally’ tripped a guy in middle school because he thought he was flirting with me. Protective doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Yeonjun let out a low whistle, his laughter fading as a hint of nervousness crept into his smile. “Okay, maybe I underestimated him. So what’s the plan? Do I avoid eye contact? Pretend I don’t exist?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “No, just… don’t give him a reason to go full interrogator mode, and we’ll be fine.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Yeonjun muttered. He glanced at you, his playful smirk returning. “But you’re worth it. If I have to face Beomgyu’s wrath, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t get cocky,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “He hasn’t even started yet.”

Yeonjun chuckled, but there was an undertone of determination in his voice as he said, “Let him. I’ll handle it. I like you too much to let Beomgyu scare me off.”

His words caught you off guard, your steps faltering for a moment. “Yeah, youre saying this now.”

He stopped walking and turned to face you, his expression sincere. “Of course I do. Beomgyu might be protective, but he’s also your friend. If he sees how serious I am about you, he’ll come around.”

A warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you smiled softly. “You’re being too cute right now. It’s really bothering me.”

Yeonjun grinned, leaning in just slightly. “The one time I don’t mind bothering you.”

–

The two of you were great at hiding your relationship—for a solid four days.

Beomgyu stood in front of you and Yeonjun, arms crossed, an exaggeratedly serious look on his face. “So,” he started, narrowing his eyes at Yeonjun, “you’re really dating my best friend?”

Yeonjun nodded, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably as a grin tugged at his lips. “Yeah, I am.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened dramatically. “And when exactly were you planning on telling me? Huh? Was I supposed to find out at your wedding? Were you even going to send me a save-the-date card?!”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Beomgyu, it hasn’t even been a week—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” he snapped, pointing at you with mock seriousness before turning his attention back to Yeonjun. “You. You toad looking son of a bitch. Answer the question.”

Yeonjun shrugged, clearly amused. “Toad looking– Honestly, Gyu? I was hoping you’d just figure it out and not make a big deal.”

Beomgyu gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been personally betrayed. “Gyu? You lost your Gyu privileges when you didn’t tell me about the two of you dating! And…not make a big deal?! I’m her best friend! It’s my job to make this a big deal! What kind of boyfriend are you if you don’t respect that?”

“Okay, okay, I respect it,” Yeonjun said, holding up his hands in surrender. “But you’re being a little dramatic—”

“Dramatic?” Beomgyu cut him off, pacing in front of you both like a detective in a crime drama. “Dramatic is when I trip a guy for flirting with her. This? This is serious. I need answers. What are your intentions with my little girl?”

“Little girl?” You scoffed.

“My intentions?” Yeonjun repeated, clearly holding back laughter. “I like her. A lot. I want to make her happy.”

Beomgyu squinted at him like he was trying to read Yeonjun’s soul. “Hmm…lame answer but okay. But what about—”

“Beomgyu, stop,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not my dad and Yeonjun’s not on trial.”

Beomgyu ignored you, snapping his fingers at Yeonjun. “What’s her favorite color?”

“Uh… blue?” Yeonjun said, glancing at you for confirmation.

“Wrong. It’s green,” Beomgyu said confidently, even though he was completely wrong.

“It’s actually yellow,” you corrected, rolling your eyes. “Even I don’t know where you got green from.”

Beomgyu gasped again, this time looking personally offended. “How dare you keep secrets from me?”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s her favorite food?”

“Spaghetti!” Yeonjun answered quickly, as if it was obvious.

Beomgyu sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Lucky guess, nimrod.”

“Nimrod? Really?” Yeonjun shot him an exasperated side-eye. “You’re pulling these nicknames out of nowhere now, huh?”

“Talking back to your father-in-law?” Beomgyu glared, clearly annoyed. “Strike one, Choi Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun blinked, flustered. “My father-in-law is younger than me by two years. This is ridiculous.”

“More back talk, huh? Strike two, fuckface,” Beomgyu snapped, his tone dripping with annoyance.

Yeonjun threw his hands up in frustration, leaning back in his seat. “What the hell, man? Why are you so worked up? I’m literally just trying to answer your questions.”

Beomgyu’s glare intensified. “It’s not about the answer, Yeonjun. It’s the respect you should have for me, as her best friend, I am literally obligated–”

“No, you’re not.”

Beomgyu ignored you, “OBLIGATED to earn my respect and you’re just making it harder for me to give you my approval.”

You watched the exchange with an amused expression but also a growing sense of secondhand frustration on Yeonjun’s behalf. Beomgyu’s intensity wasn’t helping the situation.

Yeonjun finally sighed, slumping in his seat. “I’m not even trying to be difficult, Beomgyu. What do you want from me?”

“I want you to respect the fact that you’re dating my best friend,” Beomgyu muttered, arms still crossed. “I’m watching you, Yeonjun. You mess this up, I swear—”

“Alright, alright,” Yeonjun groaned, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I get it. Strike three is coming, right?”

Beomgyu shot him a look, his eyes narrow with annoyance. “You better believe it, dumbass.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, covering your face. “Are we finally done?”

But Beomgyu wasn’t finished. He turned to Yeonjun with a dramatic flourish, holding his shoulders. “Listen up. When you’re holding her, you need to know you’re holding my whole world.”

“You got that off Pinterest, didn’t you?” you deadpanned.

Beomgyu waved you off, completely ignoring the comment.

But before Beomgyu could continue his interrogation, he suddenly stopped, his expression shifting into something softer. “Wait, I just realised…” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re really dating now. Like, for real. You’re all grown up…”

And then, out of nowhere, Beomgyu lunged forward and wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice muffled and suspiciously emotional. “I’ve watched you grow up, and now you’re dating this idiot! I can’t believe it!”

You froze for a moment, torn between laughing and tearing up yourself. “Beomgyu, are you… crying?”

“No!” he said, his voice cracking. “Shut up. It’s allergies.”

Yeonjun snorted, leaning against the wall. “Wow. Didn’t realize I was dating into such an emotional family.”

Beomgyu shot him a glare, though he didn’t let go of you. “And I cannot stress this enough, you better take good care of her, Yeonjun, or so help me I will cut your balls off when you’re sleep—”

“I will,” Yeonjun said sincerely, cutting him off. “I promise.”

Beomgyu sniffed dramatically before pulling back, giving you one last look. “Fine,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I approve. But only because I like you, Yeonjun. Don’t ruin it.”

Yeonjun saluted him. “Yes, sir.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you turned this into a whole event.”

Beomgyu grinned, his usual mischievousness returning. “What can I say? I live for the drama.”

#yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #txt fic #txt oneshot #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fic #yeonjun one shot #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together

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nontacitare · 4 months ago

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Tough decision. I went with the action/adventure sequence of the battle for the scepter of night, but Elena speaking with her father's ghost and learning he was not the perfect ruler she'd thought him, leading to her letting go of her desire for vengeance was so important to her character arc. Wow, I might have just talked myself into regretting my vote. But the battle for the scepter of night did such a great job of showcasing the strengths and weaknesses of every member of the Team Elena and Team Shuriki. So I guess I don't really regret my vote.

#elena of avalor #elena of avalor polls #the best eoa scene #Coronation Day #the scepter of night

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ducksido · 27 days ago

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OMGGGGG I WANT NOW THIS[i am still not fed enough]. Yuu is an artist but no one likes their art:((( but their art is rlly good like realistically and it has meanings the art is like this:

Some of them as beautiful and maybe like showing their idk power, they draw them beautiful and make an au's drawing a traditional clothing on them from our world or in their dorm uniforms idk AGHHH I just want it, you can take houswardens+Ace and Deuce and Jamil PLS...

I wnat Ace and Deuc as having swords like drawing them as knights?!?!? You can make it romantically if u wanna 😙 it will juts make it interesting lol.

Yuu paints in silence.

Not because they want to be alone—but because the world makes them feel as though their silence is more welcome than their voice.

Their art is painstaking. Realistic. Expressive. Each brushstroke is a love letter and a lament. They do not simply “draw the boys of Night Raven College”—they immortalize them. Elevate them to something more than students. More than dorm leaders. They turn them into gods, warriors, ghosts of a past that never was.

But no one cares.

They walk past the canvases with flat eyes, say, “Kinda creepy, don't you think?” or “Looks nothing like me.”

Only a few look closer. Only a few ever wonder why Yuu captured them that way.

Ace & Deuce – The Knights of Heart

Yuu's painting shows them not in their school uniforms, but in armor—each with a sword of gleaming steel. Deuce’s posture is rigid, proud, noble. Ace’s smirk peeks from behind his raised sword, always cocky, always two steps away from reckless.

In the background, a cracked chessboard floor and red rose petals falling like blood.

No one asked for this AU. But Yuu needed it.

A story where Ace and Deuce are sworn to protect a crownless royal—Yuu themself. Their loyalty goes unspoken in reality. But in the painting, it's sacred.

Ace scoffs at the piece when he sees it.

“What, you got a crush on us or something?”

But he goes very, very quiet the next day when he finds a smaller sketch tucked under his textbook: it’s the same knight AU, but this time... he and Deuce are standing in front of a ruined castle, holding Yuu’s hand.

Deuce blushes for two whole days straight and keeps the original version in his notebook. Pressed flat. Hidden from everyone but him.

Riddle – The Crimson Law

In Yuu’s art, Riddle isn’t a boy.

He’s a blood-stained monarch atop a throne of roses, a crown broken in half and still worn like a badge of defiance. His scepter burns with red magic. His expression? Cold. Regal. Lonely.

He sees it once. Scoffs.

“You really think that’s how I see myself?”

Yuu only shrugs. “It’s how I see you.”

He never compliments it. But he comes back to stare at it... more than once. When no one is watching.

Leona – The Sleeping Beast King

Leona is painted like a lion-headed war god emerging from golden dust, his cloak shredded by sandstorms, eyes sharp like obsidian.

He doesn’t say anything when he sees it. Just grunts.

But he doesn’t look away.

What he doesn’t know is that Yuu drew the background after seeing him asleep under a tree. Not peaceful. Not lazy. Just tired in a way the world never lets him rest.

Later, a folded canvas appears on Yuu’s bed—Leona painted them back. Sleeping on his shoulder. They never speak about it.

Azul – The Bargain Prince Beneath the Sea

Yuu’s painting shows Azul surrounded by glass contracts floating midair like jellyfish. His eyes are bright with desperation, pride, and fear all at once. Tentacles curl around his ankles like a curse.

He’s underwater. Alone.

Azul laughs when he sees it, a too-tight sound. “That’s dramatic.”

But he doesn’t deny it. He even keeps a print of it in the VIP room. Framed. Hidden.

Kalim – The Gold-Sunned Joybringer

He’s dancing, arms open, light spilling from his chest like a sun cracked open. His jewelry glints like hope, and behind him is a swirling crowd of faceless figures. He’s trying to reach one in the center—Yuu, small and shadowed.

It’s beautiful. Glowing. Sad.

Kalim beams when he sees it. “You made me look like a storybook hero!”

But when he realizes he’s not the focus, when he sees Yuu in the background reaching back... he tilts his head.

He doesn’t ask. But he thinks about it.

Jamil – The Coiled Cobra

He’s shown with a cobra at his side, dressed in black with red eyes gleaming. His hands are controlling puppet strings, but he himself is tangled in invisible chains.

It’s regal. And painful.

He doesn’t speak when he sees it. Just stares. Then asks quietly,

“Why did you paint me like this?”

Yuu replies, “Because you deserve to be known.”

He never says more. But he starts leaving fruit near Yuu’s studio after that.

Vil – The Poisoned Beauty

In the painting, Vil is mid-transformation—one hand clutching a crown, the other bleeding from a thorny rose. His reflection in a mirror is shattered, each shard showing him at different ages—child, teen, adult.

Each face screams not enough.

He stares at it for a long time.

“You’ve seen too much,” he says softly.

But he doesn’t deny it. He touches the edge of the canvas like it’s glass, and sighs.

Idia – The Fire Beneath Ashes

He is painted not as he is, but as he could be. Hair not blue but flaming orange, cloaked in stars, eyes burning like collapsed galaxies. He’s alone in a digital void—codes swirling, emotions raw.

Yuu writes under the painting: “Your silence is not your curse. It’s your sword.”

He panics when he sees it. But he steals it. Gone in a day.

Malleus – The Prince of Forgotten Legends

He stands in a field of ruins, thorns growing from the stones, wings unfurled. In one hand: a withered crown. In the other: a child’s drawing of a castle and three friends holding hands. Lightning arcs in the sky.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just smiles, for once, with sorrow and warmth. “You see the old stories too.”

He asks Yuu to draw another version—one where the castle is rebuilt.

Yuu paints in silence still.

But slowly... small glimmers return. A flower left on their palette. A quietly scribbled thank you on their sketchbook cover. A printout of their art—taped to a dorm wall where no one will see.

They were never painting for praise.

But now, at least, they are seen.

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst yuu

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bluelockmaniac · 10 months ago

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👑 .𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

ft. crown prince!itoshi sae x commoner!femreader x second prince!itoshi rin (only bc you are rin's fiancée)

🗡 synopsis. you were chosen to be the second prince’s fiancée for rin’s convenience, but fate had different plans when you fell for his older brother, the crown prince, instead. as you start hearing strange voices during your engagement ball, sae falls victim to alexis’ curse, which only your love can break. what happens when news spread of the crown prince's revival and rin finds out?

⛓ content warning. 13.3k (yikes)ノ royal au ノ classism ノ cheating themes & pdaノ⚠ rin is rude, offensive, & insulting ノ your parents & sis for plot are assholes ノ semi-arranged marriage (?) ノ reader is illiterate ノ narration heavy ノ reader gets called whore once ノ implied death & gorish description ノ implied stranglingノ animal murder ノ minimal implication of shorter readerノthe relationship with sae is highkey rushed now that i reread it.

notes. this took me two weeks+ to finish ahhh. i thank my past self for being obsessed with manhwas so muchh, and ty to rhymezone for saving my ass w/ the ancient poem. first time using capital letters when writing fanfics, only bc it's really long though, eeee.

In the Twilight of the Eclipsing Red Moon,

When Stars Align and Shadows Loom,

The Great’s Fate is Sealed in the Veil of Night,

By the Hand of One from Mystic Light.

But From the Dust of Forgotten Lands,

Shall Rise a Heart with Common Hands,

With Lips of Rose and Spirit Warm,

To Bring the Order, End the Storm.

A Crown of Old Shall Find its Grace,

In the Embrace of a Simple Face.

But Do not be Fooled, One Shall Not Bloom,

For This, Will Lead to One’s Gentle Doom.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty,” your father stammered, “M-My eldest daughter has fallen gravely ill, and I fear she physically cannot journey to the Grand Empire of Aquaria tomorrow!”

The king’s eyes flared open in shock as the words reached his ears. His grip on the plush armrest of his throne tightened, the baroque carvings digging into his palm.

“What?!” He yelled, dismissing the fan bearer with a sharp glare before rising from his throne and taking two steps forward. His shadow covered large over your father’s trembling figure.

“She chooses now, of all times, to be stricken with sickness? At a crucial time for our kingdom? Such insolence!” He descended three more steps and glared down at him. “Did you forget that His Imperial Highness has specifically requested a lady from your clan?”

“I—”

The king struck his scepter harshly against the floor, silencing the man. “All the other houses of your garbage clan bore only sons,” he spat, “She will go, and that is final!”

“Actually…” the commoner’s lips pointed upwards in a well-rehearsed smile as he placed a hand over his heart in false politeness. “I have another daughter. She’s eager— eager to fulfill her duty. She is twenty, two years younger than the prince, but still of age.”

King Orion arched an eyebrow and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Very well,” he replied, waving his hand in disinterest as he returned to his throne. “Summon her.”

In truth, the king’s concern wasn’t with Aria, your older sister. He cared little for which daughter was offered up to Aquaria’s second prince. It was a political necessity, nothing more— a favour to His Imperial Highness, Prince Rin. Or more like a fulfillment of Rin’s rather odd request that came with a threat. As long as someone from your clan was presented, it mattered not to him whether it was your sister or some other sacrificial lamb for the slaughter.

At the call of your name, the guards creaked open the heavy doors, and you entered the throne chamber slowly. When you reached the foot of the throne, you lowered your body in a curtsey bow, your gaze fixed on the scarlet carpet that stretched beneath you.

“It is my greatest honour to stand before you, Your Majesty,” you said, though your indifferent tone made it clear to anyone listening that you longed for nothing more than to be anywhere but here.

But you knew the truth behind this charade. Aria wasn’t ill. She was the jewel of your parents’ eye, their pride and joy, shielded from the Empire’s gaze like a pirate’s precious treasure. You, on the other hand, were the forgotten one– the daughter they kept hidden, a mere shadow in their halls, easily discarded when it was convenient. To your father, you were a little more than a weight around his neck, an extra mouth to feed, a burden he was eager to rid himself of.

The king’s eyes scanned you up and down, his expression visibly souring as he took in the sight of your tattered ankle-high, brown dress and scuffed boots. Disgusting.

“Ugh,” he muttered under his breath, leaning on one elbow as he sneered at you. “She’ll do, I suppose. Pretty enough for their tastes.” He turned to his chancellor with a condescending wave. “Have the maids find something more… suitable for this one.”

The chancellor bowed deeply, “At once, Your Majesty.”

“Alright, you’ve packed everything, haven’t you?” your mother asked as she rubbed Aria’s shoulder comfortingly.

Your gaze drifted to the battered briefcase lying at your feet. You had stumbled upon it by accident, shoved into a forgotten corner of the dirty attic, coated in layers of dust and practically falling apart at the seams. With a sigh, you bent down to pick it up, nodding as it threatened to collapse.

“Yes,” you murmured, a bitter smile tugging at your lips, “There was hardly anything to pack, anyway.”

Your father scoffed, rolling his eyes as he wrapped an arm around Aria, who had begun to shed what you knew to be crocodile tears. The act was almost laughable. She suddenly broke free from their grasp and rushed over to you, flinging her arms around your waist with a dramatic sob.

“Y/N!” she cried, “Please take care of yourself– hic– I’m going to miss you so much!”

You hesitated for a moment before stiffly returning her hug. She was a liar, through and through, and you both knew it.

Before the act could continue, the distant sound of hooves clattering against cobblestone paths captured your attention. Gently, you pried yourself away from her clutches, turning toward the approaching sound.

Your breath hitched. The Empire’s Royal Carriage was quickly nearing, and it was no exaggeration to say that its massive size dwarfed everything coming its way. It was magnificent, its gleaming white exterior and elegant navy blue designs that were above the huge clattering wheels. Silken curtains furnished the windows, embroidered with golden threads that caught the eyes of your greedy family. But what truly stole your attention was the shining silver crown perched atop the carriage, with Aquaria’s Royal Crest.

“Listen–” your father’s obnoxious voice cut through your admiration. He leaned close, his voice coming out in a hiss, “You better behave yourself, got it? If you mess this up, it’s not just you– it’s all of us. Understand?”

You shrugged off his threat with a nonchalant nod, “I’ll do my best.”

The sounds of the porcelain horses neighing were suddenly right behind you. They looked so soft, so immaculate, that you had to resist the urge to reach out and glide your fingers through their carefully groomed manes. But you knew better. This was no place for such frivolities.

The royal coachman descended from his designated seat and approached you. His right hand gracefully flew to his heart and he bowed slightly, his eyes closing for a brief moment.

“Greetings, my lady,” he said, straightening himself elegantly as his brown eyes met yours. He took your worn briefcase from your hand and placed it gently in the carriage’s wide storage compartment in the back. Then, he slid aside the long curtains and extended his hand toward you.

This was it. The moment you stepped into that carriage, you would leave this wretched life behind forever. No more grime, no more being hidden away like some shameful secret. You would be free– or at least you clung to the hope of freedom.

Taking the coachman’s hand, you felt the fine material of your simple sage gown– one begrudgingly gifted by King Orion– brush against the spotless steps of the carriage. You could hardly believe you, of all people, had the privilege of entering something so grand, so expensive.

For one last time, you glanced back at your so-called family. They stood there, masks with feigned expressions of sorrow worn over their faces. But you weren’t fooled, and you certainly weren’t going to indulge them. Instead, a slow grin crept across your face and you mouthed a few words that served as a final act of defiance.

“Shitty lives for shitty people, I guess.”

“.... lady,”

“My….”

“My lady!”

“Hm…” You muttered drowsily, your eyelids slowly fluttering open to the sight of the coachman and several other servants peering in at you with concerned expressions. Startled, you shot upright, your hands grasping the seat beneath you. “Y-Yes!”

So far, you were off to a great start.

But now, as you finally stepped out of the carriage and beheld the regal palace before you, every bit of exhaustion from the long ride seemed to dissolve. The sight of it stole your breath and you tried to conjure up a word to describe it, but words escaped you. Beautiful, perhaps, though even that felt insufficient. Magnificent, maybe.

There were towering stone sculptures and a large marble fountain in the center, its water elegantly cascading down like it was raining crystals. The front lawn was meticulously trimmed and maintained till perfection. The walls of the palace shined, built from pale limestone that you recognized from years of working with fire and sedimentary rocks. And at the peak of the palace dome, a lone flag fluttered in the breeze, proudly displaying the Royal Crest of Aquaria.

Your home now.

Yet, no lines of maids awaited your arrival at the main entrance, as you’d always imagined from reading those fairytale books you’d find tucked away in your attic. And there was certainly no sign of your supposed fiancé— His Imperial Highness, Itoshi Rin, the Second Prince of the Empire.

But then again, it made sense. You were just a humble village girl, after all— hardly worth the attention of someone as important as him.

The sudden neighing of a horse behind you jolted you from your thoughts, and you spun around. There, your gaze locked with the prettiest set of eyes you had ever seen— legendary teal irises framed by lashes so thick they casted a shadow on his cheekbones.

If the palace was magnificent, then he was simply breathtaking.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you instinctively took a step forward toward him, prepared to pinch fistfuls of your dress and bow down to him.

He must be your fiancé, you thought. How could he not be? Those eyes were a symbol of royalty. His dark, reddish hair swayed with every blow of the wind, and the way an exquisite sapphire brooch shone against his royal attire screamed authority.

What did they call this phenomenon? Love at first sight? But then—

“Welcome back, Your Imperial Highness the Crown Prince!” a unified set of voices suddenly echoed from behind you in greeting, and you whipped your head back to see every servant and the carriage driver on their knees, their heads bowed low, and their hands clutched to their chests.

Crown Prince? Your breath caught in your throat. The Crown Prince? In other words, the future Emperor of Aquaria?

His gaze left yours to briefly sweep over the kneeling palace workers, before he waved his hand dismissively. “Rise.” he ordered. His deep voice made you feel a sudden tightening in your throat, and you had the urge to obey though you weren’t even on your knees.

When his eyes returned to you, you flinched, every nerve of your body feeling on edge. You drew in a sufficient amount of fresh air and held onto bunches of your gown, bowing respectfully.

“G-Greetings, Your Imperial Highness,” you stuttered.

Sae guided his horse to a halt and swung his leg over the saddle, dismounting and landing on the grass smoothly. He gave the mare a gentle pat, and you suddenly felt conscious as he approached you in long strides.

He stopped just in front of you, eyes seemingly studying you. “You are?”

You swallowed nervously, daring to meet his aquamarine gaze. “Y/N,” you said softly, “The Second Imperial Prince’s fiancée.”

His eyes narrowed and he closed them fleetingly before opening them again. “I see… That foolish younger brother of mine.”

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond. Your sparkling eyes flickered to his mare standing patiently beside him for a moment too long. Her coat was as white as fresh snow, and it almost hurt your eyes the way the sunlight reflected off her.

He noticed. “Oh, her?” He nodded toward the horse, gesturing for you to come closer. “Go on. You can touch her if you wish.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief, trodding towards him in excitement. “May I, really?”

“Sure, whatever,” he muttered nonchalantly, though his gaze softened slightly. He was more focused on observing the horse’s reaction to you.

With careful hands, you reached out and gently raked your fingers through her silky mane. A delighted giggle escaped your lips as the fauna neighed softly and nudged your hand for more of your kind attention.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered, and he hummed in interest. You paused for a moment, glancing at the prince curiously. “What’s her name?”

“Celestia,” he replied, pulling on the horse’s rein before folding his arms over his chest. He watched you interact with the animal. “She rarely warms up to anyone, but it seems as if she likes you.”

Your eyes lit up with surprise and you smiled, your fingers still tangled in the horse’s mane. “Celestia is a beautiful name… It suits her. She’s as white as the moon.”

For a brief moment, the prince turned his head to the side, as if he was hiding something from your view. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d trust anyone his beautiful horse liked. His fingers slipped through his tousled red hair, and though his voice slightly carried a tone of arrogance, it was also laced with something else. “Tch. Thanks. I named her myself.”

You laughed lightly, “How old is she?”

“Turning nine soon,” he answered, giving her a pat. “She’s the mother of a black stallion.”

Your eyes twinkled in awe, fists clenched in front of you as you beamed up at him. “She’s a mother?!”

Sae raised a brow, leaning back slightly. “You’re standing too close.”

“A-Ah, my apologies, Your Highness,” You stuttered, retreating several steps just in case. “I… I seem to have forgotten my place,”

“No, it’s quite alr—” He started, lifting a hand as if to stop you from backing away, but was interrupted by one of the pesky servants from Rin’s wing of the palace. “...”

“I-I apologize for interrupting y-your conversation, Your Imperial Highness,” She panted, bowing low, “But The Second Prince has requested his fiancée’s presence for a private audience.”

Sae clicked his tongue in annoyance, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he mounted Celestia. “I guess it cannot be helped. Fine, whatever.”

Your heart sank slightly, a wave of disappointment looming over your ethereal features. Your pretty eyes downcast and fists clenched lightly by your sides. You had hoped to stay just a little longer, either with the man you had mistaken for your fiancé or perhaps with the beautiful horse. You weren’t sure which had captured your fascination more.

You thought that, perhaps, if Rin was not unlike his brother, then marrying him probably wouldn’t be so bad.

Still, with a deep breath, you held onto your skirt and followed the maid. But just before you left, you glanced back over your shoulder at the First Prince with a smile so pretty it could coax the sun out of the sky and make even the stars envious.

“See you around, Your Highness!” You called out, waving your arm before turning around to trail after the servant woman.

Sae stood frozen for a heartbeat, his thoughts clouded by the ghost of that smile. Something stirred in his chest, something unfamiliar and probably unwelcome. He huffed quietly, silking his hand through his hair before muttering under his breath.

“Yeah… see you.”

Your heart raced as you stood before the polished double doors of Rin’s chamber. You swallowed hard in an attempt to calm your nerves. Your breaths came in shallow, like there was some sort of invisible weight pressed against your chest.

Your hand hesitantly hovered mere inches from the door. You hadn’t even met the man and yet the tension was thicker than when you had personally greeted the crown prince.

The maid beside you fidgeted, clearly just as anxious. She stammered softly, “My lady… j-just knock and wait for his word. I-I’ll take my leave now.”

You nodded, watching her scurry away so quickly as if she couldn’t wait to be out of the prince’s domain. You blinked in thought— if the servants in this wing were this jumpy around him, it didn’t bode well.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling fingers. After whispering a few reassurances to yourself, you finally raised your knuckles and knocked gently on the door.

No answer.

A few more seconds passed before you tried again, but this time you heard a deep, irritated voice call out.

“Enter.”

You gulped and planted your hands on the heavy door, pushing it open. The moment you stepped in, you held in your breath. The interior was extravagant beyond words– a room fit for royalty, as expected.

Your enlarged eyes scanned the deluxe chamber, mouth unintentionally falling agape at all it held. But the awe immediately vanished as your gaze landed on Rin. The prince stood by a grand archtop window with his back to you, gazing down at the Aquaria Royal Gardens— which, to compare in size, were bigger than your whole village fit together.

He turned at the sound of your entrance, his sharp eyes immediately narrowing with a look of disdain. His voice was flat, yet annoyed. “Quit ogling and close the door behind you.”

It was an order, and you felt your body immediately move on its own. Your hands fumbled as you quickly shut the door, unable to keep the heat of embarrassment from rising to your cheeks. You lowered your gaze, focusing on the rosa aurora marble floor beneath you.

Rin’s eyes raked over you, his foot tapping on the floor impatiently. His eyes were just as icy as his brother’s, but where Sae had a certain aloofness, Rin’s coldness felt like a blade to the throat. He eventually crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you condescendingly, “No proper greeting?”

Your mind scrambled. “Ah..!” Your fingers gripped onto the fabric of your dress tightly as you bowed stiffly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y-Your Imperial Highness,”

He let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if the very sight of you was an inconvenience. “Horrible posture,” he muttered. “Your etiquette needs a lot of work.”

Your heart sank further, and humiliation washed over your whole face. You straightened up and pursed your lips together tightly, the words sticking to your throat like superglue, afraid that whatever you’d say next would only make matters worse.

He remained quiet and turned around, walking to the large seating area in the corner of his chamber. You hesitantly followed after him, taking a seat right beside him on the burgundy plush.

He eyed you sideways, clearly displeased. “...Really?”

“Um…” You shuffled your feet awkwardly, the fabric swishing against your ankles. “Sitting in front of you would be presumptuous of me… How dare I make eye contact with someone as great as you, given my position?”

He rolled his eyes at your words. “How audacious.”

“Oh— Your Highness, you’ve got an eyelash on your cheek,” You started, instinctively reaching out to brush it away. But before your fingers could make contact, his hand snapped out, roughly swatting yours away.

“Don’t fucking touch me, commoner scum.” He hissed.

You immediately withdrew, rubbing your stinging hand gently. You bit your bottom lip to keep quiet. “I apol—”

“Go sit in front.”

You obeyed without question, your body moving on autopilot as you rose from the sofa, taking a seat across from him. If you hadn’t the guts to defy your parents, what made you think you could defy a prince? You didn’t even have the strength to be angry; you were too preoccupied with trying to hold yourself together under his oppressive gaze.

What followed was more of an interrogation than a conversation.

“Can you read?”

“No.”

“Write?”

“No.”

“Table manners?”

“I eat with my hands.”

“... Can you do anything at all?”

Your fingers twisted nervously in your lap as you swallowed thickly, embarrassment creeping up your neck. “I can make really good vegetable soup...”

“...”

The silence stretched out, and you could feel your self-worth slowly becoming nonexistent. After a moment, he stood with a sigh, making you flinch.

You averted your gaze to the window and you tapped your foot anxiously against the floor. You realized you were swallowing thick lumps of nothing more than usual. All his questions were glazed with layers of dripping haughtiness and it hurt when you realized how useless and worthless you were as you answered each one.

“No, this is good,” He assured, almost to himself, as he began unbuttoning his white shirt. You looked up at him, confused.

“Good?” You repeated softly.

Rin approached you with his shirt halfway undone. He stopped just in front of you, leaning down with an expression so intimidating it sent shivers sprinting down your spine. “Do you know why I chose someone as lowly and pathetic as you, peasant?”

You rubbed your clammy palms together and paused. “I think I might have an idea,” You whispered.

“Oh? Continue.”

“You want to win the public’s favour, perhaps?” you guessed carefully, “because it shows a connection to those of lower status…”

He raised a brow, “Hm. You’re smarter than you look.” He admitted.

But his next words made your blood run cold. His hands found your shoulders, his fingers gripping onto them with not much force as he leaned closer. Your gaze ashamedly darted down to his peeking sculpted chest before flicking up to his eyes.

“After I’ve become emperor instead of that shitty brother,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, “you will bear my child. Then, I’ll find a way to get rid of you.”

Your whole body was trembling as soon as his hands left your shoulders. You could feel your teeth clattering slightly as you stared at the floor, unable to speak. You tilted your head up and watched as he slowly slid off an oval-cut sapphire ring, rimmed with shimmering stones of diamond, from his finger.

“Give me your hand,” He ordered impatiently.

You nodded immediately, extending your hand in front of him with starry eyes. Without a word, he slipped the opulent band onto your ring finger, careful not to make contact with your skin. You pulled away and admired the accessory— you’d be set for a thousand lives if you sold this heavy thing.

“Thank you…” You smiled softly.

“This ring is a royal heirloom, along with one other,” He warned, pointing to the Crest engraved in the gemstone. “Do. Not. Lose. It.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at the ring, nodding quickly, “Yes… I won’t.”

“Good. Now go. The maids will show you to your chambers. Be ready for your etiquette lessons tomorrow.”

You rose from the sofa shakily, bowing once more. The difference between this man and the one you’d met earlier was staggering, and you already had a not so vague idea on who you preferred.

“Then I shall see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Your Imperial Highness.”

Your eyelids felt heavy as you tried to open them. You blinked once, twice, three times– your vision blurred with remnants of sleep before gradually sharpening into clarity. But what you saw around you was anything but familiar.

Gone were the days of waking up to dusty cobwebs and the cracks and crevices of a wrecked ceiling that you had grown used to. Instead, your eyes met a vast, polished quartz ceiling, glistening in the morning light. Above you was a fancy chandelier, its long golden-framed vines dripping with crystals, and glass trickled down from the hooks.

You shifted beneath your plush cover and froze for a second, because this soft sensation was just as unfamiliar. No more prickly stacks of straw or thin, rough blankets. No, today, you had woken up in luxury.

As you sat up, memories of yesterday flooded your mind. Oh, right. You were absolutely shocked when you were first led to your room. You could say you were floored by its elegance– far larger and more lavish than any room you had imagined you’d get. Though it still paled in comparison to Rin’s personal quarters, it was hard to grasp that this space was your room.

You remembered indulging yourself in a little tour last night, exploring it in awe. There was a massive walk-in closet, filled to the brim with fine dresses and gowns of rich silks and satins. Accessories like cocktail hats, jewel-studded heels, and purses of gorgeous colours, all of which you couldn’t wait to try, filled the shelves.

The grandest thing you had ever owned prior to this was a ring made of a flower’s stem.

But as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you felt a shiver run up your spine. Your heart jumped as you realized someone was in the room, and you let out a small squeak, instinctively clutching the covers.

“So you’ve finally woken up, my lady,” came a gentle, slightly amused voice.

You blinked rapidly, your gaze locking onto a pair of soft amethyst eyes. The young woman standing beside you had ginger hair that fell to her shoulders in soft curls, her pale cheeks peppered with specks of pretty freckles.

“W-Who are you…?” You asked carefully.

The woman set a pair of fluffy cotton slippers on the floor beside your bed, then gave you a small curtsy. “Eleanor, my lady. I am your lady-in-waiting.”

You slid your feet into the slippers, still feeling a little dazed. Eleanor busied herself with smoothing the bed linens as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “Meaning..?” you echoed, sitting up straighter.

She chuckled lightly. “Meaning I’ll attend to your personal needs and assist you with your duties to make sure you are well taken care of.” She gave you a smile, “You’re new to all this, aren’t you?”

You looked down at the marble bashfully, nodding your head, and admitted softly, “Yes…”

“Haha, that’s quite alright. But let’s not waste anymore time! We have to get you ready for today!”

“... Huh?”

You were absolutely pampered.

The question constantly lingered— what had you done to deserve this? Probably nothing but you were thankful that you went in the stead of your older sister.

Just a short while ago, you had been treated to the greatest bath of your life, courtesy of Eleanor. She had insisted it was part of her duty as your lady-in-waiting, but it seriously felt like a ritual reserved for queens. She skillfully massaged your muscles and rubbed your scalp with rosewater serenade. And when her hands worked authentic vanilla lather across your skin, you smelled like a warm, freshly baked biscuit. An upgrade from your baths in the river.

Currently, you were seated on a leathered stool as Eleanor combed through your hair with care. The reflection in the mirror in front could leave you gushing over yourself for hours. Your gown was a waterfall of midnight blue silk with intricate silver embroidery. Your waist was still uncomfortable from the pressure of the tight corset, but the result was definitely worth it.

A delicate web of pearls hung from around your neck, cool against your collarbone. You absentmindedly toyed with the silver tassel earrings as Eleanor finished adding the final sprinkle of silver glitter to your styled hair.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady!” She exclaimed as she clapped her hands together to dust off the excess shimmer.

You smiled admiringly, turning your head left and right. “Thank you, Eleanor. I never thought I could look like this...”

You stood from the stool, walking towards the door before her voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait, my lady!”

You turned, watching as she carefully presented a delicate box etched with faint leaf patterns. Nestled inside were a pristine pair of white fine lace gloves that were long enough to elegantly reach the elbows.

“His Imperial Highness the Second Prince has ordered that you must wear these whenever you are with him,” She said quietly.

“Ah. Thanks.”

You understood. It was slightly disappointing that your fiancé would go to such lengths to avoid touching you. Was the prospect of touching you truly that distasteful to him? But you shrugged off the thought and removed your heirloom ring before sliding the gloves on. You put back the ring on top. It wasn’t everyday you got to wear something this refined. Perhaps it would be everyday from now on…

But then, the memory of Rin’s chilling words echoed through your mind. “Then, I’ll find a way to get rid of you.”

Your heart clenched and you shook your head. As long as you did as commanded, you were sure you’d be fine.

“Let’s go, Eleanor.”

Your body tensed under the penetrating gazes of the countless servants. Their stares followed you as you walked down the Main Hall of the right wing, heading towards the heart of the palace.

They weren’t even trying to hide their gossip. Why would they? Servants here were no ordinary peasants, they were people of the lowest class of nobility. Sons and daughters of Earls, Counts, Barons.

“His Highness must be smitten,” one maid said, “Just look at her dress!”

“Isn’t she from the slums?”

“And she wears the Royal Heirloom on her finger!”

“So, the rumours were true, then?”

“I heard she thought she'd be marrying the Crown Prince.”

“Pftt, That’s embarrassing.”

The hushed whispers suddenly quieted down to zero, and you assumed it was probably Eleanor’s doing because you could literally feel her piercing gaze though she was trailing respectfully behind you.

“It’s alright, Eleanor, leave them al—”

The words died in your throat the moment you caught sight of him– the man you first encountered when you arrived at the palace. He was exiting the Council Hall, deep in conversation with what looked like an advisor or high-ranking official. Your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively lifted the hem of your dress and rushed towards him.

“Your Highness!” you called out, your voice chirpier than you had intended.

He turned at the sound of your familiar voice, his eyes widening just slightly in surprise. For a fleeting moment, it seemed you had embodied the grace of a princess… had your heel not caught beneath you. You stumbled, eyes squeezing shut as you braced yourself for the fall. But instead of tasting the cold, hard floor, a pair of strong hands caught you, steadying you by your waist.

“Careful,” he warned softly, his hands lingering for just a moment before falling back to his sides. “You’re not used to heels.”

You laughed awkwardly, but you could not hide the disappointment that washed over your expression as his hands left you. “No, it’s my first time.”

He paused. His eyes stayed on you for a moment longer than they should, taking in the way your dress perfectly complimented your figure. But he realized this, and his gaze quickly shifted to the golden deer emblem mounted on the wall.

“You… look different,” He continued, rubbing the back of his neck.

The hall suddenly felt hot, or maybe it was just the heat radiating from your face. You dipped your head, fiddling with your clad fingers. “Oh, do I…?” you sputtered softly, but you silently cursed yourself for replying in such an awkward manner. Of course you looked different!

“Ahem,” Eleanor chimed in, coughing into her fist dramatically. “Not to interrupt, but I hear some alarming footsteps…”

“If you slack off one more fucking time, I’ll display your decapitated head on a pike to serve as an example for your pathetic kind!” a voice yelled from behind.

Rin stepped out the Council Hall, his face an angry scowl as he finished lashing at the minister who scurried away like a frightened animal. His eyes then flickered towards you and his older brother, and his expression soured further.

He turned to look at your lady-in-waiting, speaking sternly. “I thought I told you to bring her to my study,”

“We were on our way, Your Imperial Highness,” Eleanor responded politely, bowing her head.

“Incompetent.”

Rin’s attention shifted to you, noticing the lacey white covering up to your elbows. Without warning, he inched forward and closed the distance between you, his hand snaking around your waist. You tensed as his not unwelcome grip pulled you closer, your palm instinctively flying up to settle on his chest. You looked up at him gently, hesitantly, but his eyes weren’t on you– they were locked on his older brother.

He eyed his brother suspiciously, “What are you still doing here?” He asked. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your trip to Berlina?”

“Berlina…?” You repeated in confusion.

“The Kingdom of Sorcery and Magic,” Eleanor quickly whispered into your ear, leaning in with her palm covering her mouth.

Sae’s expression remained indifferent, clearly unbothered. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on more important matters right now?” He let his eyes wander lazily towards your hand on Rin’s chest before he smirked. “Like… sharpening your embarrassingly inadequate swordsmanship skills?”

Rin’s face contorted in anger and his neck flushed a deep red. His grip on your shoulder tightened just enough to make you wince. “You bastard… You’ll regret this.” He seethed through clenched teeth.

The Second Prince glanced back at Eleanor in disgust, “You’re dismissed.”

He looked back at you, noticing your extravagant dress, before furrowing his brows. “The dress you’re wearing is too fancy for a day with no important occasion.”

You glanced down at your blue gown and shrugged. “Eleanor chose it for me,”

“Who?”

“—I personally think it suits her just right.” Sae broke in suddenly, wearing a smirk on his face as though he found pleasure in annoying his younger brother.

Rin narrowed his eyes at him. “Who asked for your opinion? And what were you two talking about, anyway?”

The Crown Prince hummed, leaning against the wall behind him. “Let’s see. Well, I told her she looked different, and helped her up when she tripped on her heels.”

“Tch.”

“But be careful,” Sae’s lips twitched into a small grin, his gaze drifting to meet your eyes. “keep your eyes on this beauty else I might steal her from you. Isn’t that right, my lady?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“Your Highness, even if you joke around like that, I don’t think my heart can take it–” you whispered, and Sae chuckled lightly, though Rin quickly pulled you behind him.

“That’s enough, stay away from her.” He glared, barely affecting Sae. “Your little jokes aren’t funny.”

“Who said I was joking?” The eldest quipped nonchalantly, and Rin just rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go.” He exasperated, holding onto your wrist and dragging you alongside him.

As his hand guided you away, you looked over your shoulder, searching for a familiar pair of tourmaline eyes. Ones identical to those of your fiancé’s. But instead, all you saw was a broad back and auburn hair shifting as he walked away in the opposite direction.

Rin slammed his fist against the hardwood of his desk. That interaction seemed to have spilled gasoline to the blue flames in his eyes, which were already burning with rage. “That bastard thinks he can keep playing games with me!”

You remained still, hands folded patiently over your abdomen. The last thing you wanted to do was provoke him further.

After a tense silence, Rin let out a sigh and collapsed into the plush seat behind his desk. “It’s alright,” he began, his voice softening just slightly. His gaze locked onto you in a way that made blood rush quicker through your veins. “You’re my ticket to becoming the emperor—” He leaned forward. “I need you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at those words, but you knew not to expect much. Still, you mustered a sweet smile. “I’ll do my best, Your Highness. You were mentioning today’s schedule…?”

He leaned back, propping his arm on the armrest. “Right. My father is holding our engagement ball next week. Every noble house will be there to congratulate us. In the week leading up to it, you will perfect your manners and court etiquette. Understood?”

You gulped hard as a huge bag of responsibility was suddenly thrown onto your back. A week? To not work on, but perfect everything?

“...Understood.”

—

“... After you master public speaking skills,” Rin went on, “you’ll focus on formal dining etiquette. I don’t want you embarrassing me by eating with your hands. Then, you’ll have dancing lessons and study Royal Dress standards. You also need to be familiar with Aquaria’s history, diplomacy, and customs– especially royal protocols and responsibilities, and….”

His voice continued on, listing task after task. Your head was spinning, and you thought you were going to faint and collapse to the ground. This wasn’t the fairytale you’d imagined. You signed up for the fun part of being a princess— the ballgowns and the makeup, and maybe kissing the prince. This was a chore, the kind that made growing carrots and potatoes seem like heaven in comparison.

“By the end of this week, I expect you to be flawless. I’ve brought in the best tutors for reading, writing, and everything else– all that easy stuff. Do not disappoint me.”

You nodded automatically, but not before adding an innocent thought that had slipped into your mind, in a slightly sarcastic manner. “Have you perfected your swordplay, though?”

Now the temperature in the room seemed to drop down to zero as he bore his narrowed eyes at you. You felt a cold shiver run up all your bones, and your knees weakened. “You think you’re funny don’t you? Do you really want to play this game with me?”

Your bravado crumbled. “N-No…”

“Then get some rest,” he ordered. “Your training starts this afternoon.”

You nodded and quietly turned to leave the study.

Six long days had passed by since your lessons began. Six mentally and physically exhausting days.

Your dance instructor was a strict middle aged lady with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue, who worked you till your feet were bruised. She made you balance books and vases on top of your head as you marched back and forth, her shrill voice cutting you off whenever your posture was horrible, or when you mixed up the steps for a dance made for another song. Although you loathed her guts, you couldn’t deny the significant improvement of your poise.

The dinner etiquette lessons, however, offered a time-out from that hag. Yes, you learned the basics of formal dining– how to keep your elbows off the table, chew with your mouth closed, use the silver utensils correctly, and pat your lips clean with the patterned napkins. But, the best part, or reward, was tasting the delicacies they served. Truffles, lobster coated with butter, and tender lamb chops. And then there were the fancy desserts– macarons pumped with ganache filling, puff pastry, tartelette au citron, éclair au chocolat, and more.

All of which you had never dreamt of tasting in your life, you who had never tasted anything more luxurious than a loaf of bread.

You also learned how to read and write, not for the reasons you preferred, but good nonetheless. You had found a particular fondness for the history lessons, which were not tedious at all. You were focused at all times much to your mentor’s surprise. Learning about the Royal family’s reign— how they had ruled over neighboring lands for centuries, managing resources, trade, and finance— fascinated you.

But your ears always managed to tune in and pick up the subtle gossip rotating among the maids and servants in the halls and libraries, so you had learned a few things.

The two princes were locked in a one-sided rivalry. One was fighting crystal and pickaxe for the crown, while the true heir showed little interest in the throne he was destined to inherit.

Sae, the eldest, wasn’t just entitled to the crown by birthright. He excelled at everything– swordplay, defense, archery, and horseback riding for royal ceremonies or simple trips to cities. His skills were polished to literal perfection. Rin, on the other hand, was skilled, but not extraordinary. He always lived in the shadow of his brother.

Yet Rin’s desire to become emperor wasn’t merely a wish— it was a burning, desperate need, an ambition to prove himself worthy. To finally win against Sae.

Killing his brother, of course, was out of the question— such an act would be treason. Besides, Rin didn’t just want him gone; he wanted Sae to see the moment when he ascended the throne, to admit defeat, to acknowledge that Rin had bested him.

Rin believed that the key to winning favour with their father—the current emperor—and the people was to flaunt his achievements, which, to remention, were not as good as Sae’s. But his sharp tongue and cold demeanor made it difficult for him to win many hearts. Sae learned to place a mask behind his foul words, whereas Rin still struggled to.

And that’s where you came into the picture.

You weren’t just his fiancée; you were part of his strategy. He’ll show you off before the court and the public, showcasing to the world how he transformed a mere commoner, a peasant, into someone of worth.

You came from a disgusting, needy village, yet now you stood in royal fits. To Rin, you were a symbol showing his ability to elevate those beneath him. A tool to gain the favour of the people. You could read and write now, you were beautiful, and in the eyes of the kingdom, you had the potential to become the empress one day— if, of course, Rin managed to seize the crown from his brother.

—

It was late at night, and the moon’s natural light filtered through your curtains. You moved to your huge window and brushed aside the rosegold-embroidered fabric as you peered down at the Royal Gardens. The view was similar to that of Rin’s, since your chambers were three spare rooms away from each other.

You were exhausted, but you always had time to admire the water spilling down elegantly from the angel sculptures’ stone lips, or the beautiful shrubs clipped into topiaries.

But all the exhaustion you felt moments ago suddenly vanished when your eyes caught sight of someone unexpected.

It was the Crown Prince. You had seen Sae around the palace during these tiring six days, and you’ve engaged in many small talks with him without Rin’s knowledge. Conversations flew naturally with him, he asked you about your life before the engagement, and though you were initially hesitant, you found yourself speaking openly with him. There was a strange ease to Sae that, oddly enough, only you seemed to feel.

You stared at him a bit too long, your gaze almost boring a hole into him, and he sensed it.

Pivoting on his heel, he made direct eye contact with you from below. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and you hurriedly pulled the curtain closed. But he could still see your silhouette, and when you peeked your head out slightly from the curtain, you could’ve sworn you’d seen him chuckle.

With a quick gesture of his hand, he beckoned you down to the gardens. Your pretty eyes widened, but you found yourself nodding eagerly with no hesitation. How could you refuse?

—

Panting softly between giggles, you rested your hands on your knees.

“I can’t believe you ran to meet me in your… nightgown,” Sae remarked, his lips curving into a subtle smirk.

You straightened and boldly stepped closer until you were only centimeters away from him. Your eyes twinkled in the moonlight, and you shone a smile brighter than la lune.

Sae’s breath caught in his throat as your face came full view and he felt his body still. You were Rin’s fiancée– he shouldn't be looking at you like this. But the glow of moonlight was making it hard…

“... You’re beautiful,” the words slipped out naturally.

Heat flooded the sweet curves of your cheeks at the way he said it so casually, so suddenly. Your gaze dropped to the freshly cut grass, your fingers nervously tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you muttered quietly, your voice barely above a hush.

Silence followed. But comfortable, nonetheless. Then, you noticed his hand, palm up and waiting in front of you. You blinked up at him in confusion.

“I am aware that I am in no position to do this, but…” He paused, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyebrows shot up comically in surprise, glistening doe eyes widening for the hundredth time tonight. Your heart was thumping so fast you thought it might burst from your chest, and you feared he might hear it.

It was risky, you knew that. If Rin were awake, he might have been watching from his window– his chambers were so close to yours. You knew how much he enjoyed looking from his window from the time you’ve spent together in the past week. But, he had dismissed you earlier to rest and this moment alone with Sae was tempting.

Hesitantly, your hand hovered over his before relaxing and letting it fall in his grasp. You met his gaze, and you shyly whispered,

“I know we’re not supposed to be doing this… but I want to.” Your fingers intertwined with his, and you smiled softly. “May I have this honour, Your Imperial Highness the Crown Prince?”

Sae glanced down at your hand weaved between his fingers. His brows furrowed in a frown, and a wave of panic washed over you. You literally felt your heart leap out of your chest. Had you overstepped your boundaries?

“I was only kidd—”

But instead of pulling away, he gently hooked his finger under the wristband of your glove, sliding it off your hand. You felt warmth bloom across your cheeks as he slowly removed the other glove too, making sure to leave his touch lingering on your bare skin.

“You don’t need to wear these ridiculous gloves to bed,” he said, “It’s unnecessary.”

Your cœur fluttered. “I… I just forgot,” you mumbled, embarrassed.

He rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked into a smile as he clasped your now bare hand, while the other found its place on your waist. The fabric of your silk nightgown was thin, and his touch felt intimate, direct, and you could feel his fingertips pressing lightly against your skin.

He led you in a slow dance gracefully under the protective gaze of the serene moon, delicately spinning you before your arms naturally draped around his neck. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer. He looked so good, he smelled so good, his touch so gentle. You wanted him.

“Do you like these gardens?” He asked suddenly, giving you another twirl.

You nodded, lacing your fingers in his. “I do. It’s quiet. The palace can be… overwhelming.”

Sae raised a brow, “Overwhelming, huh? For someone like you, I suppose it would be.”

The words stung slightly, but there was no malice in his voice. You dared to meet the eyes you came to adore, “And you? Why are you here, Your Highness?”

He paused, then turned slightly. “I’m avoiding another council meeting. You’d be surprised how tedious it can be listening to old men argue for hours on end.”

You laughed softly, and for a brief moment, his eyes softened. He pointed toward a part of the garden in the distance. “Come with me,” he said simply.

You followed, trembling as the Crown Prince led you with his fingers gently wrapped around your wrist. When you came to a stop, your breath caught in awe. Before you were roses of every shade– deep crimson, soft peach, porcelain white, and candy pink.

“They’re gorgeous,” you gasped.

“Right.” Sae bent down and plucked a single red rose from the bush, turning to you with a small, rare smile. “The red ones are my favorite,” he murmured, carefully tucking the rose into your hair.

You smiled sheepishly, gently patting the rose he’d placed. “They remind me of strawberry ja—”

“They remind me of blood,” he interrupted with a casual voice.

You blinked, startled by his answer. “R-Right.”

He chuckled softly, rubbing the area around his neck. “I can see why Rin chose you.”

You looked at him for a few seconds before quickly shaking your head. “He didn’t choose me, he just wanted any girl from our clan. My older sister was supposed to go, but I went in her stead. Besides, I’m nothing special… just convenient.”

“Convenient?” His gaze darkened slightly before his hand came up to rest on your chin. “...Don’t sell yourself short. You’re more than that.”

Your head quickly tilted down and you began to fiddle with your fingers, then with the simple lace adorning your neck. “Your Highness– stop saying things that make my heart, I don’t know, hurt?”

“Oh?” He placed his hands gently on your cheeks and you looked up at him lovingly. “That isn’t good for Rin, is it?”

You shook your head, “No, it isn’t. But he doesn’t make me feel this way.” You boldly placed your palms on his shoulders and stood on your tippy toes, and as soon as he leaned down slightly in approval, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He tapped his forehead against yours and smiled. His heart was beating a bit quicker, and he found it dangerous. “Well, I’m afraid I must leave now.” He drawled.

Your heart sank a little, your ethereal eyes flicking down. You nodded slowly, “Thank you for your time, Your Highness.”

He looked down at you, his expression softening. Slowly, he lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a chaste kiss to your skin. “It was a pleasure, my lady.”

If he couldn’t hear your heart thundering in your chest one thousand miles per hour moments ago, then he sure could now. As he disappeared, you placed your hand over your chest, rubbing over the spot where he’d kissed.

It seemed like Sae had yet again bested Rin in a game neither had realized they were playing.

Tonight was your engagement ball, the grand celebration that would officially announce your impending marriage to Rin.

You were both in his chamber, dressed fully in fancy outfits. He wore an elegant white attire adorned with the brooch of Aquaria and a navy blue sash draped across his chest. You wore a pitch black gown embroidered with gold, matching gloves, and heavy golden jewelry that Rin had exclusively bought for you.

The party had already begun downstairs, the grand ballroom filled with the most important guests from across the empire. But the grand entrance of the soon-to-be bride and groom had to wait for the Emperor’s speech, set to occur an hour after the festivities commenced.

“It’s a lunar eclipse,” you mused admiringly, leaning against the window. The moon, bloody red from the umbra, hung in the night sky ominously. “I’ve read about the phenomenon in the Royal Library. The stars look so close… they look like they could fall right into our hands.”

Rin rolled his eyes and walked closer to you, resting his hand on your further shoulder. He stared out the window in boredom. “How poetic,” he muttered sarcastically. “Even the moon is congratulating us tonight.”

You turned your gaze from the sky to him, your hand gently smoothing out a small wrinkle on his sash. “It’s time, isn’t it? We should head to the Ballroom.”

He grumbled in response, pushing your hand aside as if your touch was unnecessary.

The intricate grandfather clock suddenly chimed loudly. Midnight had arrived.

Tick.

“In the Twilight of the Eclipsing Red Moon…”

Tick.

“When Stars Align and Shadows Loom…”

Tick.

A strange voice seemed to rise from nowhere. You flinched visibly, a shiver creeping up your spine as the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You quickly found Rin’s hand and grasped it tightly.

“D-Did you hear that?” You shuddered, voice trembling.

He raised an eyebrow. “Hear what? You’re imagining things.”

You shook your head, swallowing hard. “No… I swear, I heard something– like a voice. It was…”

He scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. “It’s just the clock ticking. Don’t start getting all nervous on me now.” His grip tightened around your hand, but you doubted it was for your comfort. “You’re going to be on your best performance for me, Got it?”

You hesitantly nodded, your gaze lingering on the moon for a few more seconds. The red, eerie glow still haunted your thoughts. You reluctantly turned away, looping your arm through Rin’s to exit the chamber and enter the grandeur.

“Yes…”

“And I want to thank you all once more for attending tonight’s ball,” The Emperor’s proclamation boomed from behind the closed doors. The attention of every soul present was on him. “I would now like to announce the formal entry of The Second Prince of Aquaria, and his fiancée, a soon-to-be princess, Y/N!”

The large doors, decorated with orchids and bloody red roses, parted dramatically to reveal you and Rin hand in hand. The Royal Guards on each side immediately stiffened and raised gloved hands to their head in salute.

The aristocrats hushed immediately and their eyes followed as you both stepped onto the red carpet, descending the grand staircase and heading towards the two thrones.

You halted just below the steps of the thrones, immediately lowering your head in a bow of respect alongside Rin.

“Greetings, Your Imperial Majesties,” you murmured, lifting your head as you learned to.

“... Thank you, Father, Mother,” Rin’s voice followed formally.

Your gaze shifted towards the Empress. You particularly loved her as her lovely crimson hair always seemed to remind you of Sae. Oh, speaking of the Crown Prince, where was he? You hadn’t caught a glimpse of him yet.

You turned your head, eyes subtly scanning the room in search of a distinct redhead. And in the corner of your eye, you found him leaning casually against a balcony pillar, arms folded over his chest and eyes closed.

Your gaze softened at the sight of him before refocusing on the mob of aristocratic ladies and noblemen that had rushed to circle your betrothed as soon as the Imperial Greetings were over. They approached and offered smiles under snobby and vexing expressions, backhanded compliments under the guise of praise.

“Such a refreshing choice, Your Imperial Highness!” A brunette lady gibed, fanning herself with an elegant fan as she slyly smirked, “You’ve truly outdone us all in… originality.”

A Lord chuckled beside her, his laugh insufferably pompous. “I must say, Your Highness, I certainly admire you embracing such humble roots! A prince of the people! Ho ho ho!”

“I’m glad we have such a reliable prince who values all his subjects equally!”

“It is odd that His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince hasn’t found a lady yet.” One brought up.

An Earl added, “That’s true. He’s supposed to step up to the throne sooner or later. He needs an heir once he becomes Emperor.”

You squeezed Rin’s hand discreetly as he bit his lip in frustration at the mention of his brother. He needed to restrain himself at least this one time.

“I appreciate your sentiments–” he began, but faltered for a split second. “No I fucking don—” You squeezed his hand again, giving him a gentle nudge, and he cleared his throat. “Your support is reassuring,” he finished with a strained smile.

As your fiancé continued chatting with the backhanded nobles, your attention kept drifting towards Sae, stealing quick glances every now and then. He had begun conversing with a group of higher officials and ministers, likely discussing Berlina, The Kingdom of Sorcery and Magic that he had frequented many times to strengthen the Empire’s growing alliances.

Loud enchanting music began to play from the orchestra and many already established couples began to dance in the center. Expensive and rare gifts began to pile at your feet, congratulatory offerings from various guests. Rin accepted them indifferently and reluctantly offered his thanks with as much enthusiasm as the stone sculptures that lined the ballroom.

“This jewel was found in the Ancient land of Topion and is thought to bring good fortune!”

“This exotic bird from Elakis produces gold everytime it sings!”

“This sword is forged by a legendary ghost smith whose body lives in the volcanic depths of Loo!”

You froze when Sae stepped forward as the next gifter, and it seemed like the entire room was also holding its breath. He approached, your widened eyes drifting down to the elegant box in his hand. He opened it, revealing an intricate necklace with shimmering, round pearls.

“An authentic pearl necklace crafted by the Merman Emperor of Eau.” Sae presented with his usual calm demeanor, making it hard to believe that he had spent days negotiating with the merman to create a necklace exclusively suitable for you.

Your mouth parted in surprise, and the words tumbled out. “Oh– thank you! It’s… beautiful.”

Rin rolled his eyes, gently fisting your hair and lifting it to expose your neck. “You didn’t have to do that,” He hissed through gritted teeth, looking at Sae with teal eyes that crinkled in hate.

Sae met his brother’s glare with a simple hum, fastening the beaded necklace around your neck. You bit your lip tightly as his touch lingered on your skin, looking down at the pearls that beautifully settled against your collarbone. “That would be disrespectful to you both, I’m afraid,” He said. “Even Our Father, the Emperor, has offered her pleasantries.”

Rin clicked his tongue and looked back at you, wrapping his arm possessively around your waist and pulling you closer to him. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, catching you by surprise. The Crown Prince narrowed his eyes at the gesture.

“Come on, darling,” Rin emphasized as he spat out the term of endearment, though he internally cringed and wanted the ballroom to rupture and swallow him whole. The pet name left a bitter taste at the tip of his tongue. “It’s time for our dance.”

You nodded, your lips parting to speak, but, “Of course, Your High—”

“The Great’s Fate is Sealed in the Veil of Night…”

That haunting voice again. Your ears were ringing. You quickly squeezed your eyes shut and froze in your tracks.

“...By the Hand of One from Mystic Light.”

“I-It’s the voice again!” You whimpered, hands flying to your ears in a desperate attempt to block out the sound. “I hear it!”

Rin scoffed loudly, glancing left and right at the guests who were exchanging confused looks. Sae, on the other hand, seemed out of it, with half-closed, bleary eyes.

“Quit it, you fool!” Rin cursed in annoyance, his patience snapping. He grabbed you by your shoulders and yanked you to his chest away from their judgemental gazes.

“Voice? I don’t hear anything,” a lady whispered.

“Neither do I,” someone else chimed in.

A voice snickered, “She said ‘again’.”

“His Imperial Highness must be marrying someone with auditory hallucinations.” The words stung as they left another noble’s mouth.

Then, in an instant, the ballroom plunged into darkness as the bright chandeliers went out. The ballroom was only illuminated by the glow of a large bolt of lightning, and a thunder rattled so violently it deafened you and shook the windows. When the bulbs flickered back on, a shrill lady’s voice pierced the silent room.

“T-The Crown Prince! He’s not moving!”

All eyes shot to Sae, who lay motionless and graceful on the floor, hand on top of hand. He looked calm, as though he was merely resting.

You gasped in fear, hands flying to your mouth as you tried to stay balanced on your feet. Rin’s eyes in particular were the widest. The atmosphere in the room immediately shifted to terror as everyone noticed the ink-blue vines creeping slowly up his neck, thorn designs wrapping themselves around his throat.

“T-That’s… Alexis’ Curse!” The Emperor panicked.

You had read about it. Alexis’ Curse—an ancient legend of a wizard scorned by love. His heart had been shattered by the daughter of a shoemaker, Michelle Kaiser, who had chosen her Earl lover over him. She always refused Alexis’ advances, and the gifts he’d always present.

Enraged, Alexis had cursed the Earl, condemning him to a fate of eternal sleep unless the one he loved kissed him to break the spell. The curse wasn't one of eternal youth, however—the body continued to age, to decay, until there was nothing left but ugly bones.

But because Alexis had disposed of his inked body in his tower, the Earl had died alone, Michelle never finding him.

The curse had become a myth, that Alexis’ wrath was aimed at those of high status, warning them of the dangers of meddling with those beneath them.

But the nobles’ faces were literally drained of colour because what had once been myth was now terrifyingly real, before their very eyes.

It had been a few weeks since the disaster during your engagement party.

They had sealed Sae’s lifeless body deep in a chamber within the Main Palace’s basement. You attempted sneaking in multiple times, but you failed– the entry was heavily guarded and there was too much risk. And besides, if slipping past your lady-in-waiting wasn’t hard enough, Rin had become increasingly possessive as the possibility of being promoted to Crown Prince rose. That is if he was elected as so in the Royal Committee Meeting.

He was proud enough that he’d permit small acts of closeness– letting you remove your gloves when in his presence, even sharing his chamber. So, you would never risk waking him up while trying to sneak into the basement.

You recalled the aftermath of the disastrous ball vividly:

—

“I never knew he was so pathetic,” Rin sneered that night, running a hand through his dark hair before resting it at your throat and squeezing lightly. “Falling in love with you? A commoner? He must be out of his mind.”

He chuckled as he released you, pulling you into his chest.

“The whole Empire is so stupid. They think he fell in love with someone else. But it’s better this way.”

—

Yet despite Rin’s actions, your thoughts remained with Sae. You’d spent the weeks caring for Celestia, his white mare, as well as tending to Rin’s black stallion which he had never bothered to give a name to. You learned from the stable workers that Celestia was the mother of the charcoal horse.

Tonight, however, a once in a red moon opportunity presented itself. Your fiancé was away on royal business in Yelund, negotiating financial matters with their government in place of the Crown Prince. You took this chance, knowing it was the only one, and decided to sneak out.

You left your chamber, clutching a cage with a rat you’d found in the servants residence. You made your way through the darkened corridors until you reached the entrance of the basement. You hid yourself behind a large stone pillar and took a deep breath, tossing a small block of cheese across the room as a distraction.

The guards were alarmed by the subtle noise and quickly whipped their heads and ran towards the sound. You bit your lip in concentration— everything was going according to your plan. You quickly released the rat from its cage, watching it scurry across the concrete, and silently slipped into the Royal basement. You sighed in relief as you heard a guard's voice.

“Oh, it’s just a rat. Guards, get back into position.”

—

You slid off your heels so that your bare feet barely made a sound as they grazed the stone steps of the staircase. The basement wasn’t very illuminated if not for the dim candles that hung on the wall, and the stench was not horrible as you thought it would be. Instead, it smelled like preserved jasmine.

You were at the last step when you put your hand on the concrete wall, trying to catch your breath.

At the bottom, in the center of the relatively smaller room, stood a rectangular crystal glass box. Inside it, Sae lay perfectly still. The sight of him made your gaze soften and your heart clench as if it was put in a meat slicer. His skin was pale, but it was bolded, in contrast, by the inky blue vines tracing thorn and rose patterns across his body.

His cheeks and ears were faintly flushed by a baby pink dust, and his lips looked so soft, so gentle, so inviting. Stray strands of his red hair lay on the cushion beneath him, his long lashes resting against his cheekbones.

You were aching as you approached the enclosure. Your fingers trembled as you pressed them to the glass, your breath slightly fogging the surface. Tears blurred your vision as they began to roll down your cheeks, and you leaned down to gently caress his cheek with your bare hand, feeling the coolness of his skin.

You sniffled and your palms went to rub your glossy eyes, before you straightened up and curled your fingers on the glass in a tight grip. He looked beautiful, you thought, with roses that matched his hair colour surrounding him all over.

“Your Imperial Highn— no, Sae—” you whispered, “I… I love you, too.”

You cupped his face with quivering hands, your thumbs rubbing sweet circles on his skin as you contorted your body awkwardly to reach him. The glass was positioned high, at your waist’s level, so you had to twist your body and bend to touch him intimately.

Sae remained unmoving, yet you had hoped that somewhere deep within his slumber, he could sense your touch, or the sincerity of your unsteady voice confessing your reciprocated love.

As you leaned in to kiss him, that same sharp voice that you always hear yet again cut through your ears, and you instinctively covered them with your hands for protection.

“But From the Dust of Forgotten Lands,”

Your heart thumped faster in your chest as you tried to shake it off.

“Shall Rise a Heart with Common Hands,”

Beads of cold sweat trickled down your temple— you could never get used to the voice, no matter how many times you’d heard it.

“With Lips of Rose and Spirit Warm,”

Your hands fisted at the cotton under Sae, inhaling deeply before bending down until your face was inches away from his.

“To Bring the Order, End the Storm.”

Your lips hesitantly hovered over his mouth before you fluttered your eyes shut and pressed them against his in a kiss. Your lips together were so soft, yet they weren’t moving against each other like a mutual kiss would. They locked seamlessly in a way that felt strangely natural, as if the pair were made for each other.

Your lips lingered against his for a few seconds, and you wanted to relish the moment more, but you felt a subtle shift in Sae’s body. A faint flinch, almost imperceptible, ran through him, and the blue roses on his skin suddenly began to glow.

You pulled back before you could fully comprehend what was even happening, your lips just brushing his as you turned and sprinted towards the stairs. Fortunately, the guards on duty were in the midst of a shift exchange, so you assumed you had gone off flawlessly.

But not entirely.

A certain awakened man had caught a glimpse of your hair as it bounced during your escape.

The first light of morning stabbed your eyes, and they fluttered open abruptly as you realized Rin’s hands were on your shoulders, shaking you harshly. His face was itched in a deep scowl, his breath hot against your skin.

“What the fuck is all this about? This is what I come back to, you fucking whore?” He fumed venomously.

You blinked in confusion– your head was still fogged with sleep, after all.

“W-What..?”

—

The usual tranquility of the whole palace was broken by hurried, squeaky footsteps and frantic voices. News of the Crown Prince’s revival had spread like wildfire through the Royal Quarters: the sleeping prince had defeated the curse and had awakened after only a few mere weeks.

The servants and maids rushed through the hallways, scrambling to prepare for what would be an unexpected audience. Gossips and rumours flowed through every corridor of the palace faster than the head maid brewing herbal tea in preparation for noble guests.

And in the Royal Gardens outside, hundreds to near thousands of noblemen and noblewomen who were alerted of the Sae’s revival gathered, dressed in their finest dresses and suits.

Oh, you were so fucked.

—

“M-My lady, this isn’t good!” Eleanor cried as she ran into your room, “Hundreds of guests have arrived in the Throne room, and both princes are there too! His Imperial Majesty is now urgently awaiting your presence!”

Your hands instinctively wrapped around your abdomen, and you suddenly felt nauseous. Your body shook slightly, your teary eyes fixing themselves on the ground. You loved Sae, you really did, but doubt was gnawing at your organs. Kissing him felt right in that moment, yet you were starting to regret ever doing it.

What if he didn’t want your help? What if your peasant lips had tainted him? What if he didn’t want you?

“I… I don’t want to go,” you hiccuped, walking around your room in circles. “I’m so stupid, I should have never—”

“No, my lady,” She interrupted gently. “You must.”

You gulped and nodded hesitantly. Rin’s anger lingered in your mind like salt and pepper— his eyes were boiling over with rage, his face tinted a deep crimson red. You had never seen him like that, and now, as you stepped into the crowd gathered in the grand hall, all heads turned to look at you in a way that made you even more uncomfortable.

But the Emperor, however, did not seem angry. Weird enough, he looked elated for reasons you couldn’t yet pinpoint.

As Eleanor had said, Rin and Sae were both present, standing opposite each other like the rivals they were. Rin was struggling to contain the way he was absolutely fuming, while Sae was blatantly staring at you with no intention of hiding it. Unlike the way you usually reacted to the Crown Prince’s gaze, you felt rather nervous, flexing and unflexing your fingers.

You pinched the fabric of your simple gown and bowed low, and the thin patterns of the marble floor never seemed so interesting.

“Greetings, Your Imperial Majesty,” you addressed.

The Emperor nodded in acknowledgment, before turning his attention to Sae expectantly. “My son.”

“Yes, father.”

Before your wracked mind could process what was happening, Sae suddenly began striding toward you. Rin was a considerable distance away from you but he also furrowed his brows in confusion. A million thoughts started to run through his mind and he felt the unease creeping up his spine. Had they planned something behind his back?

Sae came to a stop in front of you, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt his arms, so muscular despite being under layers of hand-crafted clothing, loop around your waist and pull you close. Your face pressed against his chest, and your hands awkwardly hung near your sides despite being desperate to place themselves in places they’d beg to touch.

Loud gasps and surprised awes of the hundreds of uninvited, stunned guests echoed throughout the large room.

“Hey, what the heck–?” Rin suddenly snapped, biting down on his lip so hard that blood seeped out, the iron leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.

He didn’t like you, not really, but he had finally claimed something– someone that his older brother desired, and now it felt as though Sae was taking you from him.

It irritated him to no end, the way Sae’s hand gently patted your hair and the way you sheepishly smiled into his suit like an idiot– who the heck did you think you were? How could you? How fucking dare you?

And more importantly, why was the Emperor fine with this? Why was he chuckling so carelessly akin to the circus’ fool? What was going on?

But your mind was already in Saturn. You were lost in the Crown Prince’s musky scent and the oh-so-delicate taps of his fingers on your head, and when you heard that voice again, you closed your eyes knowingly and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever.

“A Crown of Old Shall Find its Grace,”

“In the Embrace of a Simple Face.”

“Y/N.” Sae’s voice broke through your thoughts and the voices of gossip in the crowd died down instantly. He tilted your chin up gently, thumbs caressing your face sweetly before his hands found their place on your cheeks.

Your eyes darted left and right nervously, avoiding his gaze. He'd never called you by your first name before. You shook those thoughts away and met his gaze. “Yes…?”

“You know,” He started, “To break the curse, the feeling of love must be mutual…”

Your cradled head nodded in his hands in embarrassment, and you felt heat creep up from your neck to your ears. “I’m aware,”

“So?”

Your eyes widened and immediately snapped down to the floor, watching your simple heels shuffling softly. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that escaped past your lips, and you only hoped that no one had heard that. You looked up at him affectionately.

“I love you…” Your voice dripped like melted caramel on his tongue, so sweet.

He smiled– a real, genuine smile that no one besides you could see– and leaned down, whispering an “I love you too,” before sealing his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle, and you let out a soft sigh as your fingers curled onto the rich fabric, gripping onto his attire tightly. His lips were warm as they moved against yours, unlike the cold, unmoving lips that you had claimed a while back.

When you finally pulled away, your eyes fluttered open, dazed with bleary eyes, little hearts seemingly etched into your pupils.

The crowd erupted into cheers and gasps, and maybe a few rolls of the eyes and glares from jealous noblewomen or daughters of Lords who had hoped to have Sae all to themselves, though you barely registered anything.

Why would anything matter, when you were here, openly in his arms?

“His Imperial Highness the Crown Prince is in love with his soon-to-be sister-in-law? This is hot news!”

“The Second Prince didn’t love her anyway.”

“He didn’t? But was it really a marriage of convenience, then?”

“No way, he must have been in love. What’s there to gain from a commoner?”

“But what could a village girl like her possibly offer the Crown Prince?”

The Emperor suddenly rose from his golden throne and stepped down the carpeted stairs, standing in the center. He cleared his throat and raised his scepter high in the air.

“I, the Emperor of the Royal Empire of Aquaria, officially dissolve the engagement between Y/N and the Second Prince, and announce the engagement between her and the Crown Prince!”

Rin’s eyes twitched. His fists clenched tighter by his sides, knuckles white and nails digging deep into his palms. He felt humiliated in front of so many people, but it is said that what goes around comes around.

“Huh? But Father, she's—” Rin began, but the Emperor turned his head and shot him a threatening glare.

“Emperor’s order.” With a voice that sharp, there was no possible room for argument.

You also stood frozen, mouth hanging open in disbelief as you blinked at the Emperor in the distance. But Sae’s fingers tipped your chin back up and his lips latched onto yours in a bold, open-mouthed kiss.

“Look at me,” he murmured as he pulled back slightly to look at you, his breath warm against your skin.

Your breath hitched, your gaze locking onto his. “Your Highness… I can’t believe this is happening,” You whisper-yelled in excitement, your hands waving around uncertainly.

He gently poked your cheeks. “You’ll take my last name since you don’t have one.”

You pinched yourself to check if this was all just a dream. If it was, you didn’t want to wake up. But it was all too real. The Crown Prince was now your fiancé. You were going to be the Crown Princess, and eventually, the Empress. And you were going to take his last name because commoners do not have the privilege of family names.

And despite everything, you strangely felt no deep remorse. You had slightly opened up to and grown fond of Rin in the past few weeks– he had those moments, but with you in his brother’s arms right now, you felt something different. You felt bad, but at the same time you didn’t. It wasn’t guilt. It was more complicated, but in the end, you didn’t dwell on it. You didn’t need to.

Rin stood in his spot motionless like a fallen angel’s statue, face hidden by a brush of his dark bangs. His eyes were fixed on the floor and his hands were clutching onto his pants like if he removed them hell would break loose.

His plan had backfired on him. Initially, he had chosen you, a commoner, as his fiancée to gain favour with the people, to appeal to the majority of Aquaria’s population, who were commoners themselves. It seemed like a strategic move at the time. His father, the Emperor, was known for his peculiar love for equality and would occasionally volunteer in villages, much to his dismay. Rin had believed marrying you would show his alignment with his father’s baffling… values, and would increase his chances of becoming the next ruler.

But no. His darn prodigy of a brother had bested him once again. Sae was better at everything: swordplay, horse riding, diplomacy, even winning nobles’ hearts. And now, his brother had not only fallen in love with his fiancée, a dumb commoner from the slums that he had chosen to boost his image, but also managed to make her fall heads over heels for him as well.

If that hadn’t infuriated him enough, he despised how his father wore that sickeningly proud smile on his face as he clapped his hands together, and how the couples were cheering and twirling like morons on the floor. While he stood stiff and awkward in the corner, insides seething in mixed emotions, hearing your stupid giggles and his brother’s irritatingly sweet reassurances of a better life with him. Sae had taken everything away from him, and it felt like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

But Rin hated his older brother, and he hated you too.

So on the night of your wedding, the chambermaid in your room let out a blood-curdling shriek, her face as pale as the moonlight that shone through the window.

Cruel streaks of mulberry and plum bruises painted the delicate canvas of your neck. The once-pure white of your nightgown now blemished with spreading stains of deep cherryrose dye called blood, seeping through the fabric and into the silken sheets beneath.

A severed porcelain horse’s head lay propped beside the body with vacant eyes, and scattered across the carpet were shattered remnants of a pearl necklace.

“But Do not be Fooled, One Shall Not Bloom,”

A dagger, its handle carved from true blue sapphire, was loosely wrapped between cold, limp fingers of a lifeless corpse sprawled across a river of red.

“For This, Will Lead to One’s Gentle Doom.”

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zzztelladraco · 1 month ago

Text

Cornflowers Little Bouquet

English & Spanish Version. ;)

One shot Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader Wife Cookie

Recuento de palabras: 1.10 k

ADVERTENCIAS: Infidelidad implícita pero no realmente /Cheating implied but no really

Thinking of the newly corrupted Shadow Milk cookie. You are his beautiful and compassionate wife, you married your love when he still called himself Blueberry Milk. Eons and eons together, full of love, passion and kindness.

Despite what many believe, you didn't even have time to do anything about it when Shadow Milk was corrupted, it was all so quick, so blunt and cruel. You still remember yourself crying lying against the cold floor in the council hall, watching as Shadow Milk had executed everyone in the castle when they opposed his new vision of deception for the greater good.

He never touched you, never hurt you, much less tried to make you see any of his cruel ways of wielding power. But his presence, his touch and his love grew cold.

You didn't know if he still loved you or if he kept you in that castle out of mere pity.

You cry. In the back garden, in your chambers, in the hallways and you grab your hair and pull at it in frustration when you think he's not seeing you.

Your feelings sour and love dissipates, Shadow Milk is icy, cold and his presence is hard to take now. The tenderness, his devotion and how giving he was; they are but shells of dreams of the past now.

You always catch yourself on your knees staring at his statue in the library by the river of milk. You always caress his ancient portraits enchanted with magic still gazing at you with love.

You die in that place.

One night when you find yourself sitting at the milk fountain that has long since stopped flowing. The creepers and undergrowth has taken over and the blueberries on the trees ripen until their haunting eyes examine you worse also illuminate your sight.

You see something delicately placed between the first stairs of the tower, unsure; you approach.

As you approach, you let out a snubbed sigh.

It was a letter..., a letter carefully folded in soft, delicate paper. A ribbon held the contents inside and held a small bouquet of blue flowers that you have not seen in the region. They were cornflowers, looking carefully cut and cleaned specifically to adorn the anonymous detail.

You look from one side to the other, but the night doesn't let you see much. You grab your scepter and head for your quarters quickly so you can read its contents, hoping Shadow Milk won't catch you. I would behead and hang the body of anyone who dared to give you this kind of gift.

When you arrive, you gently close the door so as not to draw attention to yourself. It had been a while since Shadow Milk had slept next to you, so naturally; he wasn't there.

You light the fireplace and turn on the chandelier lights to make the dim room more pleasant.

You sit down on your knees near the fireplace and unwrap the letter. Carefully setting the little flowers aside.

"Dear Monarch of the Blueberry Kingdom.

You don't know my name, but you know my way of inhabiting the world.

The flowers I have sent you, they are not easy to come by. Take good care of them.

I am not worthy of your attentions or your time.

But I would like to selfishly solicit your laughter and your heart.

Oh..., precious monarch. Remember that there is always someone loving you, adored woman.

If anyone asks, you will know if you hide the flowers I sent you."

No signature, no name.

You hold the letter to your chest, disoriented. But you don't have much time to think when you hear Shadow Milk's heels echo down one of the nearby hallways.

Resolutely you throw the letter and the flowers into the fire.

By the time your husband opens the door to what are supposed to be their shared quarters, he sees only you on your knees; staring into the fire. He says nothing and simply closes the door and leaves.

After that event, the next night you fearfully return to the tower. Mentally telling yourself that, in case more letters appeared, you would have to get rid of them before your husband made a massacre. But the truth was; you wanted to read more of those words brimming with longing that had warmed your heart and made you blush.

True to you, another finely folded letter and a small sprig of cornflowers greeted you on the first steps of the tower.

And the next night ... and the next.

Letters full of poetry that brought you back to joy, reciting verses to your beauty and imploring for your love. Each one of them you read sitting on the stairs of that tower, the blueberries and the moon illuminate your sight and enjoy with you.

More than one letter makes you sigh and you hug it on your chest, with love you received each one of them. As always without name or signature.

Each letter more longing, more loving. As if I had known and loved you for years. Warming your being in that icy, lonely castle, hushing every time Shadow Milk was near.

Who wrote those verses? You wish they'd tell you who it was.

First reciting longing and mistiness, affection and admiration. Love and passion. And then lust and desire. Sometimes you imagine how that man who esteemed you so much would look like, who would suffer in silence for you? Who would send you flowers in every letter without fail? Even if the seasons flew from spring to winter.

No matter, you were happy anyway.

One night, Shadow Milk visits you in the wee hours. Gently opening the door without knocking, you find yourself sitting up in bed in your nightclothes. The fireplace is freshly extinguished and the only thing lighting the room is a small candle about to burn out on the bedside table.

The beast looks at the sprig of cornflowers placed in a small glass vase next to that candle, but he says nothing. Because he already knows. He has always known.

Because he is the one who writes the letters and his verses, he is the one who makes the cornflowers grow with his magic. He is the anonymous lover who professes his longing and lust for you with so much desire that it hurts. He always sees you from the shadows read and sigh for his letters. He also sees you burn them once read so he can't catch you.

But you have kept the flowers...

Shadow Milk takes a few steps towards you and drops to his knees to be at your level. You raise your gaze slightly, you observe his two-colored eyes. Her slit eyes that dilate when your gazes meet. And her divine mark that now tears her right eye.

And he leans in to give you a chaste kiss on the lips. Looking at you and then falling silent.

You were happy like that, anyway.

Cornflowers mean: Hope in Love

Pensando en Shadow Milk cookie recién corrupto. Tu eres su linda y compasiva esposa, contrajiste nupcias con tu amor cuando aún se hacía llamar Blueberry Milk. Eones y eones juntos, llenos de amor, pasión y bondad.

A pesar de lo que muchos creen, ni siquiera tuviste tiempo de hacer algo al respecto cuando Shadow Milk se corrompió, todo fue tan rápido, tajante y cruel. Aún te recuerdas a ti misma llorando tirada contra el frío suelo en el salón del consejo, viendo como Shadow Milk había ejecutado a todos en el castillo cuando se opusieron a su nueva visión del engaño por un bien mayor.

Él jamás te tocó, nunca te hizo daño y mucho menos intentó que vieras alguna de sus crueles formas de ejercer poder. Pero su presencia, su toque y su amor se enfriaron.

No sabías si aún te amaba o si te tenía en ese castillo por mera lástima.

Lloras. En el jardín trasero, el tus aposentos, en los pasillos y te tomas del cabello y lo jalas de frustración cuando crees que él no te está viendo.

Tus sentimientos se amargan y el amor se disipa, Shadow Milk es gélido, frío y su presencia es difícil de tomar ahora. La ternura, su devoción y lo dadivoso que era; no son más que cáscaras de sueños del pasado ahora.

Siempre te sorprende de rodillas mirando fijamente su estatua en la biblioteca al lado del río de leche. Siempre acaricias sus antiguos retratos encantados con magia que te miran aún con amor.

Te mueres en ese lugar.

Una noche, cuando te encuentras sentada en la fuente de leche que ha dejado de fluir hace tiempo. Las enredaderas y la maleza ha tomado terreno y los arándanos de los árboles maduran hasta que sus inquietantes ojos te examinan peor también iluminan tu vista.

Ves algo puesto delicadamente entre las primeras escaleras de la torre, insegura; te acercas.

Cuando te acercas, dejas escapar un suspiro desairado.

Era una carta…, una carta cuidadosamente doblada en papel suave y delicado. Un lazo sujetaba el contenido de su interior y sostenía un pequeño ramo de flores de florecitas azules que no haz visto en la región. Eran acianos, lucían cuidadosamente cortados y limpiados específicamente para poder adornar el detalle anónimo.

Volteas a ver de un lado hacia otro, pero la noche no te deja ver mucho. Tomas tu cetro y te diriges hacia tus aposentos rápidamente para poder leer su contenido, esperanzada de que Shadow Milk no te atrape. Decapitaría y colgaría el cuerpo de cualquier que se atreviese a hacerte este tipo de regalos.

Cuando llegas, cierras la puerta con suavidad para no llamar la atención. Hacía tiempo que Shadow Milk no duerme a tu lado, por lo que naturalmente; él no estaba ahí.

Enciendes la chimenea y enciendes las luces del candelabro para hacer la penumbrosa habitación más agradable.

Te sientas de rodillas cerca de la chimenea y desenvuelves la carta. Dejando cuidadosamente las florecitas a un lado.

“Querida Monarca del Reino de Arándanos.

No sabes mi nombre, pero conoces mi forma de habitar el mundo.

Las flores que te he enviado, no son fáciles de conseguir. Cuídalas bien.

No soy merecedor de tus atenciones ni tu tiempo.

Pero me gustaría solicitar egoístamente tus risas y tu corazón.

Oh…, preciosa monarca. Recuerda que siempre hay alguien amándote, mujer adorada.

Si alguien pregunta, tú sabrás si escondes las flores que te envié.”

Sin firma ni nombre.

Te llevas la carta al pecho, desorientada. Pero no tienes mucho tiempo para pensar cuando escuchas el eco de los tacones de Shadow Milk por uno de los pasillos cercanos.

Con decisión lanzas la carta y las flores al fuego.

Para cuando tu esposo abre la puerta de los que se suponen son sus aposentos compartidos, solo te ve a ti de rodillas; mirando fijamente el fuego. Él no dice nada y simplemente cierra la puerta y se va.

Después de ese suceso, la noche siguiente regresas temerosamente a la torre. Diciéndote mentalmente que, en dado caso de que aparecieran más cartas; tendrías que deshacerte de ellas antes de que tu marido hiciera alguna masacre. Pero la verdad; era que querías volver a leer más de esas palabras rebosantes de anhelo que habían calentado tu corazón y haciéndote sonrojar.

Fiel a ti, otra carta finamente doblada y un pequeño ramito de Acianos te recibían en los primeros escalones de la torre.

Y a la noche siguiente… y a la siguiente.

Cartas llenas de poesía que te han devuelto la alegría, recitando versos a tu belleza e implorando por tu amor. Cada una de ellas la lees sentada en las escaleras de aquella torre, los arándanos y la luna te iluminan la vista y disfrutan contigo.

Más de una carta te saca un suspiro y la abrazas sobre tu pecho, con amor recibías cada una de ellas. Como siempre sin nombre ni firma.

Cada carta más anhelante, más amorosa. Como si te conociera y quisiera desde hace años. Calentando tu ser en ese gélido y solitario castillo, callando cada vez que Shadow Milk estaba cerca.

¿Quién escribía esos versos? Quisieras que te dijeran quién era.

Primero recitando anhelo y brumosidad, cariño y admiración. Amor y pasión. Y después lujuria y deseo. A veces te imaginas como luciría aquel hombre que tanto te estimaba, ¿quién sufriría en silencio por ti? ¿Quién te mandaba flores en cada carta sin falta? Incluso si las estaciones volaban de primavera a invierno.

No importa, así eras feliz de cualquier modo.

Una noche, Shadow Milk te visita a altas horas. Abriendo suavemente la puerta sin tocar, encontrándote sentada en la cama con tus ropas de dormir. La chimenea está recién apagada y lo único que ilumina la habitación es una pequeña vela a punto de consumirse en la mesita de noche.

La bestia observa el ramito de acianos puestos en un pequeño jarrón de cristal al lado de esa vela, pero él no dice nada. Porque él ya sabe. Siempre lo ha sabido.

Porque él es quien escribe las cartas y sus versos, él es quien hace crecer los acianos con su magia. Él es el amante anónimo que te profesa su anhelo y su lujuria con tanto deseo que le duele. Él siempre te ve desde las sombras leer y suspirar por sus cartas. También ve como las quemas una vez leídas para que él no pueda atraparte.

Pero haz conservado las flores…

Shadow Milk da unos cuantos pasos hacia ti y se pone de rodillas para estar a tu altura. Levantas tu mirada levemente, observas sus ojos bicolor. Sus ojos de rendija que se dilatan cuando sus miradas coinciden. Y su marca divina que ahora le rasga el ojo derecho.

Y se inclina para darte un casto beso en los labios. Mirándote y luego callándose.

Tú eras feliz así, de todas formas.

Los acianos significan: Esperanza en el amor

Oh…, se me hizo pequeño el corazón. Pero realmente si pienso en Shadow Milk haciendo eso, tal vez tome esto para darle un buen cierre a una de mis historias. Es lindo pero triste.

Es obvio que esto está inspirado en la canción “ramito de violetas” jejeje.

Como siempre, es un placer cocinar para ustedes. Bonito martes. 💌

#zzztellacocina🔥#shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk x you #crk x reader

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zorostitties · 4 months ago

Text

Aurora; 9 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 11k oof

A/N: HELLO GUYS!!!! Ooof I rushed to finish this one and it got SO FUCKING LOOONG. It took a little longer than expected, but as I said on Tumblr, my pregnant sister was hospitalized this week. Not only did I accompany her hospitalization but I was also not in the mood to write lol but everything is fine now! She was discharged and the baby is safe. My lil niece wanted to be a pisces real bad for some reason lmaooo not yet bbygirl stay there a little longer 🤚 Also!!!!! Dear reader Em made this incredible art of Ruby!! I got so shocked what 😭😭 someone was willing to make art of a fic of mine?? That's so cool!! Ruby looks so hot in their interpretation!! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU EM 🫂🫂🫂 @anesthesia-4rizzle Anyways, let me shut up this chapter is already long enough lol Enjoy!! <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Playlist

The scepter was lifeless yet again when you took it in your hands.

You didn’t really want to, scared of it starting to burn once again. Now that adrenaline had completely ran off, you understood that Alucard was right; you had, in fact, some sort of fever. Your forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat and you felt unexpectedly hot, given the chilly night air. Your limbs also felt strangely weak as if you’d done some tiring exercise.

And your chest…

You remembered how your chest – your heart – seemed to burn with these three dead vampires, too. Burning you from within.

You wondered if you’d have burned with them if you kept holding it for much longer.

To your great relief, nothing strange happened when you touched the scepter again. It was exactly on the same spot you had dropped it.

Alucard knelt down near the burnt bodies. Smoke still steamed from them. He had a deep, serious frown in his face.

“Did you read the inscriptions of the scepter out loud?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No.” You looked down as Alucard got up and approached you again. “I didn’t do anything. I was just… scared. And angry.”

Alucard observed the scepter with the same frown. He touched the sun symbol softly.

“It’s still warm.” He mumbled to himself. “This scepter, for some reason, seems to be reacting to your feelings.”

You lifted your gaze to his face for the first time in a surprised expression.

That made a lot of sense.

You were frightened when you first held it. Your head was running with similar intense emotions when this strange reaction happened again. Maybe he was right… the scepter needed to be fueled by strong emotions to release its magic, whatever it was. Perhaps it didn’t even need to be you specifically, but anyone going through something similar.

You inhaled before asking – and Heavens, were you tired of asking this same question over and over again:

“Do you have any idea of what might’ve happened?”

You weren’t brave enough to look down at the corpses again, but Alucard got the message.

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment; his shoulders dropped a bit as he crossed his arms. He looked frustrated.

“I hate not knowing what’s happening as much as you do,” he confessed. “But this doesn’t feel like Speaker magic, although we’ll have to check with a real Speaker before jumping to conclusions. And it’s not fire, either.” He pressed his lips together in a thoughtful expression. “It is Sun. The scepter either has the ability to somehow store sunlight, or it can replicate it.”

You nodded. There was no other explanation: the vampires burned as if they were, indeed, standing under the sunlight. You had seen Richter’s fire magic; although it was unnaturally blue, his flames weren’t different from regular fire. They burned, but they didn’t provide light as much as the scepter did at that moment.

Alucard held his chin. He looked at nowhere in particular.

“Sekhmet is the daughter of the Egyptian Sun god, Amun-Ra. She’s related to the Sun in many ways.”

You looked down at the scepter again.

“Do you think this belonged to her?”

He narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t look Egyptian. You didn’t find it at the Egyptian gallery, either. Though it might not mean much, since the palace wasn’t all too well organized.” He dropped his arms to the sides of his body once again. “Didn’t you say you were translating the writings to our alphabet? Can I have a look at it?”

You hesitated.

The paper was safely folded and stored inside the pocket of your vest. It was the first thing you took from the floor as soon as you stepped into the alley. You wrote it with the intention of Alucard reading it in the first place.

And yet – you didn’t want to show it anymore. At least not at that moment.

Your mind was burning, and it had nothing to do with magic this time. You were overwhelmed by a number of different things; the strong emotions you felt, this new discovery involving the scepter, the sheer frustration of not knowing exactly was going on with you…

...And the hug. Heavens, the hug.

You had stopped crying. Adrenaline had ran off. Now you could think with clarity – and the more you thought about the intimacy you shared with Alucard mere minutes ago, the more embarrassed you felt. Not because you didn’t like it… well, perhaps you felt this way because you liked it.

Why were you feeling that way? It wasn’t the first time Alucard witnessed your vulnerability first hand. Oh… in fact, that was the reason. He had witnessed this vulnerability too many times in the span of 24 hours.

You felt weak. You felt like a nuisance. You felt like a child that had to be taken care of constantly.

That is not how you wanted Alucard – or anyone for that matter – to perceive you. But how could that be different when all you did the entire time you’d met them was getting hurt?

You desperately needed to avert his attention elsewhere. You needed him to stop looking at you for a moment, to focus somewhere else; you wanted to slide away from his view, to be nothing but an afterthought at the back of his mind. His gentle gaze burned. His soft touch burned. His scent which already permeated your clothes burned. Everything about him burned.

It burned in a different way than it did with Drolta or Erzsebet, however – because you didn’t hate him. Not at all. Alucard had shown nothing but respect and worry towards you.

And yet, it burned anyway, was overwhelming anyway, and that was disorienting. That was scary. You didn’t feel like you had the right to like it.

So you avoided his gaze once again and held the scepter tightly.

“Did everything go well with the Revolutionary Commune?” You asked in a quiet voice.

“...Yes,” Alucard clearly did not understand why you changed subjects so suddenly.

You nodded. “So I think this can wait for now. Can’t it?”

Alucard hesitated once again. “Ruby…”

“Please.” You reunited all of your will to not sound fragile anymore. You were tired of being fragile. “Erzsebet and her army are coming to Paris. This entire city needs to prepare. I know you already wasted way too much time with me. We should focus on what’s more important now.”

“You’re not a waste of time, Ruby.”

Your heart tightened.

Please, don’t be so kind to me. Don’t make me feel this way right now.

“B-But I’m right anyway. You know I’m right. Whatever is going on with me or this scepter – it’s not relevant anymore, not now that they retrieved the mummy.”

He kept silent for long seconds, which made you hold your breath with apprehension. Finally, Alucard sighed.

“Alright. We should go.” You almost sighed in relief. “Their headquarters have plenty of accommodations where you can rest in–“

“No!”

You finally looked at him again. You didn’t expect to blurt that out like this, but it escaped anyway. Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You already felt heat creep in your cheeks.

“I don’t want to rest, I want to help. I’m not tired.”

He tilted his head to the side only slightly. A tiny, not-so-focused part of your brain remarked that this little quirk of his made him look like a curious owl. “You haven’t slept properly in three days and you have a high fever.”

“You haven’t slept, either. And the fever’s cooling down.” Why did they still insist in worrying about your physical condition? You shook your leg impatiently. “There must be something I can do, right? Anything.”

Anything to stop me from thinking about my healing condition and my unknown past and this strange scepter and my fear of being taken by Drolta again and remembering my old scars and to stop myself from wishing you’d hug me again right now and never let me go.

Alucard didn’t look sure about that yet.

You felt apprehensive and nervous and impatient.

You scooped the floor with your eyes quickly. Stepping away for a moment, you grabbed something on the floor before running towards him again.

You lifted the red string to his eye level.

“Do you still have yours?”

Alucard blinked. Then, he let another tired sigh and… smiled. That tiny smile he let slip when he thought you were acting funny.

He took his piece of red string from inside his coat.

“Care to help?”

You leaned the scepter on your chest, letting it go for a while, and took the string in your hands. You tied it around his right wrist while remembering that he could tie it himself very well – he had shown he could before – but chose to ask for help anyway and- well I guess this doesn’t mean anything.

Alucard tied your red string around your right wrist, too.

He held it softly for a second longer than necessary.

“If you feel anything strange, let me know.” Alucard asked. You nodded.

“I will.”

He patted your shoulder softly. “Come on.”

You followed him shortly, relieved that he wasn’t looking at you anymore – and, at the same time, desperately wishing he was.

In less than two hours, the peaceful Parisian night descended into chaos.

Multiple guards ran through the streets on horseback, spreading the warning in loud voices, awakening the citizens from their sleep. Windows and doors were opened, confused and dazed heads peeking from them, trying to understand what was happening. The urgency of their voices made hearts beat faster and apprehension fill the air. Husbands locked their wives inside their houses; mothers tried to calm down their scared children.

Their message was clear: every healthy man was being summoned to defend the city.

Soon, the Place de la Concorde was packed with a confused crowd. They wore a strange mix of pajamas and coats to protect them from the chilly night air; most faces, still puffy from sleep. Confused and anxious conversations hovered over the crowd. Mere hours ago, the last king of France had been executed on that same square. The platform of the guillotine was still set up. No one expected that another historical – and apocalyptical – event would unravel so soon.

At last, Robespierre stood up on the platform, and the entire crowd went silent. You didn’t know exactly who that man was, but he was certainly very respected.

“My brothers and sisters,” he started, his voice rising over any other. “I summoned you all here tonight to bring appalling news. Yesterday, we won one more battle against the monarchy that chained us under their feet for years. Today, we face another great enemy. Our city is being threatened by foreign forces that want to lock us in chains once again…”

You doubted this Robespierre had any idea of who Erszebet Bathory truly was, but he wasn’t far from the truth… at least when it came down to you. The most positive side of you hoped the Vampire Messiah would forget about you now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy (as morbid and wrong as it sounded), but another part of you was almost certain that she wouldn’t… be it for a plausible reason or her plain possessiveness over you. Erzsebet didn’t like to lose anything. She was like a spoiled kid who never let go of her favorite toy… and you’d been Erzsebet’s favorite toy for as long as you could remember.

You zoned out for a moment, not paying attention to much of Robespierre’s speech. Every pair of eyes was focused on him. Men and women, curious teenagers, homeless children – in fact, there were homeless people of all ages… their eyes filled with growing apprehension and fear of the menace the man on the platform described. If Erzsebet and her court succeeded, there were little chances of hope for them. Erzsebet would rejoice in their fear. She would bathe in the blood spilled. She would murder the ones she deemed unattractive and feed on the women she deemed attractive; she would “share” with her court. She would turn the ones she deemed worthy into vampires against their will. The men would either serve as entertainment or as slaves for manpower. Then, the ones that survived would learn to not fight and not scream and not cry.

You knew the patterns very well.

No one should go through any of that. As much as you wished peace for yourself, as much as the incoming battle frightened you – the mere idea of being anywhere near Erzsebet or Drotla again and the understanding that they could and would take you back if everyone failed made your limbs go cold -, there was another feeling growing within you, too.

Anger.

It had always been there. Every second in Erzsebet’s presence was torture. You never respected her. You never felt any sympathy for her. You never thought she had any sort of quality at all. You knew that there was a time when your quarters were a literal cell in her palace’s underground, your clothes were rags, your food was just bread and water if there was any food at all. When you became docile and Erzsebet granted you privileges – a proper room, good food, beautiful gowns and jewels, compliments and compliments – your anger towards her did not decrease one bit. You never felt blessed or thankful over any of those “privileges”.

You were always so busy trying to simply survive the torture that this fire didn’t have time to spread. Three days away from them was all it took for it to burn in every corner of your soul.

You weren’t just angry. No, you hated her. Hated them. Every vampire from her court was as awful as her. You hated their smell and you hated how they had no respect for human life and you hated their pompous attires and parties and you hated the fact that you had to sit and watch as they killed hundreds of innocent humans in front of you, not having the power to do anything to stop them.

They had to pay.

You weren’t as strong as Annette or Richter or Alucard. You didn’t even know how to hold a bayonet or wield a sword. And yet, if there was anything you could do to help these people defeat her army, then you would.

“…We will not subject to anyone who wants to imprison us!” Robespierre boasted. The crowd cheered; fear and apprehension were replaced by rage and motivation in front of your eyes as the man’s speech progressed. Fists raised in the air, screams and whistles of support popped here and there. “We will not allow any self proclaimed queen to sit on a throne atop of us again! We will not allow anyone to take our liberty away from us!”

Robespierre made a long pause, eyeing the crowd in all directions. It seemed that everyone held their breaths in anticipation.

Then – he raised his fist in the air.

“This self proclaimed queen will feel the taste of our iron and the weight of our freedom! Woe to the one that stands in our way. We will fight!”

The crowd exploded in cheers.

More and more fists raised in the air, mirroring their leader. Vive la Révolution!, they chanted.

You had to admit – Robespierre was great at giving speeches. You felt motivated yourself.

A sigh by your side caught your attention.

Alucard didn’t look very impressed. His golden eyes were as hard as stone. Underneath the severity of his expression, you also saw a slight hint of annoyance.

“What’s the problem?” You asked hesitantly.

Alucard took a second to answer. He narrowed his eyes.

“I just don’t appreciate hypocrisy.” It didn’t look like he wanted to elaborate on that statement. “Come. We have to act before the heat of the speech vanishes.”

Indeed – the “heat” of the speech spread like true fire through the city, being carried by anyone that witnessed it. The Revolutionary Army took the lead, its generals reuniting to trace defensive strategies.

And yet, none of these generals seemed to have the same level of authority Alucard had.

You watched from the back of the room, almost hidden (yes, you said you wanted to help, but at that moment you were the only woman present in the middle of soldiers and that was quite uncomfortable because you attracted a lot of attention for some reason) as all these generals listened to anything Alucard had to say. You didn’t know exactly what the white-haired vampire had done to gain their respect so quickly, but apparently, his first introduction left quite the impression.

Alucard was soft spoken. He didn’t raise his voice in any moment, keeping the same usual quiet but deep and husky tone – and that seemed to be much more effective than screaming, because it forced everyone else to be quiet. Whenever he spoke up, silence filled the room. It seemed no one had the courage to argue with him, though everything Alucard proposed was highly intelligent and you’d have to be a fool to disagree.

You doubted any of these men had been in the presence of a vampire before. Probably never talked to one, at least. However, it seemed that everyone understood that they weren’t talking to a simple man. Standing in the middle of these humans, it became even more clear how Alucard stood out, and not just in appearance. That was the intellect and way of speaking of a person that had lived much, much longer than the human brain could process. It seemed that everyone could feel it, even if they didn’t know Alucard’s true age. He exuded quiet authority, unyielding and highly intelligent. Once again, it reminded you of a mountain. It is silent, has been there for thousands of years; no one can move it.

Alucard looked very noble.

You remembered Richter’s words at the forest. Well, he does look like a prince.

You were glad his attention wasn’t upon you at that moment. You wouldn’t have been able to hide your awe very well if it was.

Around an hour later, the soldiers left the building to spread the strategies. What they needed the most, counting on the collaboration of every citizen:

Salt.

A lot of salt.

Sacks, boxes and buckets of salt were brought to the streets. The army provided weapons – swords, knives, rifles, gunpowder, bayonets and even cannons which were carried to the entries of the city. Every weapon should be wiped with salt.

You busied yourself with that.

Without asking permission, you knelt down in front of a crate full of swords, pulled a bucket of salt closer and started the process of applying salt to the blades. Then, you put the “salted” ones into another empty crate.

It was an obvious task, but it ended up calling more attention than you expected… maybe because, again, there weren’t many other women around the headquarters of the Revolutionary Commune. Most women and children were being led to the outskirts of the city or locked inside houses that had basements as part of the evacuation tactics. You vehemently ignored the looks sent in your direction and just kept working.

Some moments later, you noticed that a young man started imitating you. He sat on the sidewalk and took a crate of weapons himself.

And then another man joined.

And then an older woman.

You heard her husband try to shush her back home, but she sent him an annoyed look.

“I won’t sit down and watch everyone fight. If there’s something I can do, then I’ll do it.” She retorted. He wasn’t brave enough to argue with her any further.

You were glad someone else shared this feeling.

It seemed to awaken some sort of camaraderie in that street, at least. Before, only the men that intended to fight were busy with the preparations. Then, you started to notice more people joining in; women and elders. They brought water, food, fruits, helped carrying crates from place to place.

Hours went by. You busied yourself with many other tasks after all the weapons were ready. The situation was beyond serious, but it was… nice. It was nice to be so busy doing something that you didn’t notice hours passing by. It was nice to help others. It was nice to not feel so useless for once. Under imprisonment, you didn’t have much to do other than sleeping. You weren’t used to this feeling of being so focused on a task that you could somehow brush your worries to the farthest corner of your mind, at least for some hours.

The sky got clear, but there was still much to be done. You only stopped for some minutes to eat an apple before going back to work.

“Aren’t you tired, mademoiselle?” One of the soldiers asked. He was probably around Richter’s age, which made you remember him and hope he was safe – but the similarities stopped there. This boy, Henri, was shorter and not even close to being as muscular as the Belmont. Curly ginger hair fell over his forehead; his fair skin was peppered by freckles.

“I’m fine. Thank you for worrying,” you dismissed politely.

“Are you sure?” Another young soldier asked; his name was… Charles? Yes, you thought that was it. His hair was black and he was a tiny bit taller than Henri. “You’ve been working the entire night, mademoiselle. You should rest.”

“I don’t get tired easily,” you dismissed again, smiling awkwardly.

“Do you want water? Do you want to eat?” Another soldier asked… what was his name? You didn’t remember this one. “Please, if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“L-Let me know, too,” Henri, the ginger, intervened. Why did he send this other soldier a slightly annoyed look? “Actually, I asked her first.”

“And? I’m just worried about mademoiselle’s well being.”

“I am more worried than you are.”

“I doubt it.”

You slipped away from them quietly before they could notice.

Well.

The men here seemed to be very eager to protect you.

All the attention you were receiving was awkward. You weren’t used to so many people wanting to talk to you. Especially not men. Erzsebet never let any men get too close to you for some reason. The guards that kept your quarters and dragged you to places weren’t allowed to talk to you.

These soldiers were… nice in an odd way.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the intentions behind their kindness, because every time you looked at them, you thought of how low their chances of survival were.

You knew Erzsebet’s forces. She had many powerful vampires under her control, not to mention the night creatures. The Vampire Messiah herself was enough of a threat; whenever she summoned Sekhmet, it seemed that air got heavier, as if the atmosphere around her submitted to her power. You couldn’t even imagine how powerful she would be after reuniting with the second half of her soul…

The human forces, on the other hand…

A bunch of civilians wearing soldier uniforms didn’t make them real soldiers. And in between the soldiers, there were barely any warriors. Warriors have expertise in real battle. Warriors carry in their eyes and in their postures the readiness to kill – not because they like it, but because they understand that in order to keep, sometimes you have to take. A real warrior is easily spotted in a crowd.

Other than Alucard? There were barely any.

You doubted many of these men had ever killed a chicken, let alone a vampire.

You tried to be positive, but it was impossible as you distributed more uniforms on the street and analyzed the “soldiers”. A big line was formed in front of you. Smiley man after smiley man. You handed them the uniforms, trying to smile back, but it was quite impossible. Not muscular enough. Not enough callouses. This man is frightened. This man has no idea what he’s getting himself into. This man has awful posture. This man won’t last a second in the battlefield. This man… why did he wink at me?

It was so, so bad.

Maybe if the city had time to actually prepare, to reunite a real army instead of counting on its citizens last minute… maybe they’d have a chance then. Hell, you were trying to be positive, trying to not be frightened, but it was getting hard…

The sound of someone cleaning their throat caught your attention.

You lifted your gaze once again to an unknown man. He was short, wore simple clothes and had a lot of hair missing… but a kind smile adorned his features – kinder than most of the men that stood in front of you, actually.

You forced yourself to smile back and handed him another uniform. The man took it in his hands and inhaled.

“Mademoiselle,” he started, and it somehow caught the attention of the other men that stood nearby. None of them had really spoken to you, just resigning themselves to saying ‘thank you’ and leaving the line. “Y-Your efforts into helping all of us and your kind smile will be what fuels my courage in the battle to come.”

Completely taken by surprise, you froze and stared at him for some seconds.

“Uh… thank you,” your smile got awkward again. Why was everyone looking at you? That wasn’t very comfortable. “I-I mean– I am glad to be an incentive for you to fight, b-but your biggest motive should be to protect your freedom, isn’t it?”

The man got speechless for some reason.

Oh. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

You already felt your fingers shaking and your heart beating faster with embarrassment–

“Beautiful!”

What?

Another man behind in line said loudly. Why were his eyes glowing as he looked at you?

“Beautiful words!” He started clapping.

What?

“You are right, mademoiselle! What encouraging words!” Another man boasted.

“We are fighting for the liberty of our country!”

“Vive la Révolution!”

And then they were all chanting with their fists in the air.

You stood there with your mouth opened, not understanding what the hell just happened. Beautiful words? Weren’t you stating the obvious? You just wanted to take his attention away from you. Why did they all get so excited all of sudden?

What was wrong with these men?

But then, a familiar voice caught your attention, making you forget about the entire embarrassing situation completely.

Richter’s voice.

You turned around to see him and Annette approaching at fast steps.

Immediate relief washed over your body.

You looked around. The line was still pretty long… oh! There was Henri. You waved at him, and the boy approached like an excited puppy. “Would you take my place? Thank you,” you didn’t wait for him to reply, however, not did you notice that the other men waiting in line didn’t really like that you ran away from your position.

You met each other on the sidewalk.

“Are you guys okay? Did you get hurt?” You blurted out immediately as soon as you got close enough. Both of them looked tired, but other than that, no injuries.

“How are you asking that?” Richter seemed to be in disbelief. “Last time we saw you, you were bleeding to death. Are you okay?”

You instinctively looked down at your own body and extended your arms, as if to show them that there were no wounds.

“I’ve healed,” you said with simplicity. Because it was that simple, and you didn’t understand why they didn’t understand that yet.

It didn’t seem to ease any of Annette’s guilt.

That was what you wanted the least.

The girl in yellow dropped her shoulders, the corners of her mouth turned downwards.

“I am so sorry, Ruby,” her voice was somewhat shy. “Because of me, you got hurt. I… I should’ve been more careful…”

She looked up at you again when you rested your hand on her shoulder hesitantly.

You weren’t good with physical touch, but that seemed appropriate at the moment.

“That’s not what happened.” You started in a calm voice. In fact, that was the most level headed you’ve ever heard yourself… where was that coming from? “I jumped in front of you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I did it. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”

Annette seemed a bit surprised by your actions. Well, you were surprised, too. But it seemed to ease whatever she was feeling, even if just a bit; she managed to offer you a tiny smile.

Richter put his hands on each side of his waist and looked around with a frown. “The city is in chaos. What happened?”

“Robespierre called for all citizens to join battalions in their neighborhoods.”

This new voice startled you slightly.

You hadn’t noticed Alucard approaching. You knew he was close – in fact, he stood somewhere around you the entire time; Alucard himself was too busy, but he was always somewhere in your field of view, although you didn’t really interact the entire time.

“Legions of volunteers are taking positions around the city,” he concluded. It was interesting how his voice became just a tiny bit less dull now compared to when he talked to soldiers or other unknown people.

“Do you think they’re ready for what’s coming?” Richter asked.

Alucard hesitated.

You exchanged a knowing look.

They weren’t. He knew it. You knew it. But… that was all you had for now.

He looked back at Richter with his eyebrows slightly turned upwards. “...An impassioned speech can make even the weakest man believe he’s brave.”

There was no better way to describe the current situation.

Richter and Annette eyed each other. The Belmont boy seemed to hesitate for a moment and cleared his throat as if building up courage – and then you remembered that the last time he saw Alucard, they weren’t exactly on good terms.

“So… I know things didn’t work out at the Louvre, but maybe all isn’t lost.”

Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You held your breath in anticipation.

“I have a plan, and I think it’s going to work,” it was Annette’s turn to speak.

“If we work together,” Richter concluded.

The white-haired vampire observed them in silence for some moments, while the three of you looked at him in anticipation back.

Finally, he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.

“Very well. What’s your plan?”

The Tailleur de Jordan was a small establishment you had hidden your scepter the night before, just two streets away from there. As the citizens were being evacuated, places like that were empty and ready to use. It would be perfect for what Annette needed to do – though it immediately filled you with worry.

“That was what the spirits were trying to tell you?” You asked.

Annette nodded. “...I believe so. It’s difficult to be certain about anything, but this is the best chance we have.” Alucard unlocked the door and stepped aside. Annette walked in first. “This will do,” she stated after a quick look.

The tailor shop was small. It had a couple of chairs, a large windowsill, a table, a desk, cabinets filled with all types of fabric in multiple colors, threads, needles, scissors… it had somewhat of a cozy atmosphere. You hoped whoever owned it was somewhere safe – and you hoped they’d survive the incoming battle to take this place back.

As the two men pushed furniture from the center of the room, you rushed to find Annette some chalk. When you turned around to hand it to her, she was eyeing the scepter with curiosity. It was leaning on a table in the corner of the room, exactly where you left it.

She looked at you with one quirked eyebrow.

“...It’s hard to explain,” you said.

Annette shrugged and took the white chalk from your hand.

She knelt on the floor and started to draw an intricate symbol you’d never seen before. It resembled a fleur de lis, though it was much more complicated. After she finished, she put the chalk aside and sat in front of it with crossed legs.

Then, she took a deep breath.

“My soul may be away from my body for a while,” she explained quietly.

Richter folded a piece of fabric and placed it behind her, offering Annette a gentle smile, before sitting by her side on the floor.

“Just in case.”

She reciprocated his smile.

You sat down on a chair in the corner of the room beside the scepter, watching the entire scene in silence. Alucard stood near them in the other side of it.

Annette looked down again. For the first time, you saw a hint of fear in her eyes… and you felt fear for her, too. She was going to walk into a path where no one could follow or help her. She’d be truly alone in this – and if she failed, then you’d really have no chance. You already knew the “army” out there was hopeless.

“Cécile always warns that our souls mustn’t get lost in the spirit world,” she explained in that same quiet tone.

“What happens if they do?” Alucard asked.

“...I will never wake up.”

Richter gasped.

He rested his hand over hers. And then… it was happening again. That intimacy they shared that made you feel like an intruder. It seemed that, in these moments, they were alone – but in a delicate, pure way; it wasn’t as if they were ignoring you and Alucard. They were simply… too lost in each other to care about anything else.

It was beautiful to witness, in a way.

“We’ll be here. Don’t be afraid.” Richter’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe it’ll help you find your way back.”

They exchanged a final sweet look before the Belmont moved away.

Annette inhaled deeply. She pressed her hands together in a praying position and closed her eyes before chanting something in a language you didn’t understand.

She chanted a few times. Her voice got slower. She opened her eyes – but they seemed empty.

“Annette?” Richter called.

She stopped talking. Her body stopped moving. Her chest moved almost imperceptibly – the calm breathing of someone asleep. Her eyes were opened, but she wasn’t seeing anything anymore.

Her soul was gone.

It was a chilling sight to witness.

Richter held her hand. He knew she wasn’t there anymore, but he kept repeating “I’ll be here” anyway.

The care he had for her was deeper than you first assumed…

You crossed your arms and rested your back on the chair. It wasn’t going to be a fast process. So… there was nothing you could do but wait.

Wait…

And wait.

A part of Sekhmet’s soul must be in the spirit world, Annette had explained. If I find it and retrieve it, we may have a chance.

A third part of Sekhmet’s soul…

If Annette was right, than it’s impossible that Drolta didn’t know about it already. She was the goddess’ priestess, after all. Could it be that she tried to retrieve this third part of Sekhmet’s soul before? Maybe it was impossible for her, as it was a spiritual journey, not physical. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t succeed and kept looking for Sekhmet’s mummy.

Time went by. Minutes turned to an hour. Richter walked from side to side nervously, biting his nails, while you and Alucard didn’t move or talk at all. After a few more minutes, Alucard approached and leaned on the wall beside you with his arms crossed.

“You should try to sleep for now.”

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“I’m not sleepy.”

He sent a side eye at your blatant lie. “I’ll repeat it. You haven’t slept properly in almost four days.”

“You haven’t slept at all in almost four days, either.”

“And I can keep awake for much longer. How about you?”

...You’d never been awake for this long, actually. He got you.

You sighed and crossed your arms, sinking in the chair even more. “I don’t want to sleep. What if something important happens?”

“He won’t be quiet about it. You’ll wake up in no time,” Alucard said jokingly.

“I heard that,” Richter almost pouted. It seems he didn’t really like when both of you chuckled at him.

You dropped your voice to a whisper, hoping Richter wouldn’t hear you from the other side of the room.

“Don’t be mean to him.”

Alucard paused.

You had the strong impression he wanted to roll his eyes but held himself back. The white-haired vampire sighed and tilted his head to the side.

“I won’t if you sleep for a bit.”

It was your turn to let a deep sigh. “No promises.”

“No promises on my part, either.”

He sent you a last lighthearted look, the hint of a smile on his lips, before walking back to the windowsill.

The thing is, your eyelids were heavy. But you genuinely didn’t want to miss anything. One week ago, your life was basically a long, confusing sleep; it was the first time you’d been awake for so long, experiencing so many new things – good and bad – and it was the first time your mind was so clear. No memory lapses, no confusion; you knew where you were all the time, there were no blank spaces in between events. You didn’t want it to go away. If Alucard could keep awake for much longer, you could too, right? Maybe your brain would heal the sleep. Maybe if you pushed a little longer you wouldn’t feel tired anymore–

Pitch black.

“Come back here!”

You run around the alleys after that little rat. Heavens, why does ??? have to be so disobedient?! Although he’s screaming, you’re pretty sure he likes being chased like this. He loves pissing you off for some reason.

But his legs are much shorter than yours, and without much effort, you grab him by the collar.

??? looks at you with the round eyes of a scared pup.

“What are you doing here?!” You hiss, crouching down to get to his eye level and holding him by both arms. “I told you over a hundred times, you’re not allowed inside!”

“I was curious!”

“I don’t care!” ??? shrieks at your loud reprimands. You can’t bring yourself to soften; he has to understand that his actions have consequences once and for all. “There are places you’re not allowed to get in! Do you want me to get into trouble because of you?!”

??? crosses his arms and looks down, pouting. “I-I just wanted someone to play with!”

You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You have plenty of friends. You can’t fool me with that.” He sticks his tongue out at you; you ruffle his hair violently in return. “Go back home right now. And if I catch you here again, I’ll hang you by your feet and let you dry in the sun like a peace of meat. Did you understand?!”

“You’re annoying! I hate you!”

??? runs off. You gasp out loud, outraged.

“I’ll kill you when I get home!”

You woke up with a soft gasp.

For some seconds, you were completely disoriented. You blinked several times, trying to understand what was happening.

Oh.

You were exactly on the same spot as before. Sitting on the wooden chair. A long, soft fabric was put over your body, serving as a blanket.

...You ended up sleeping, after all.

And for a long time.

You knew it not only because your body ached from sleeping while sitting in a hard wooden chair – your neck was especially painful –, but because the Sun was gone. Judging by the height of the moon in the sky, it was already a little over midnight. It brightly illuminated the entire tailor shop through the large window, bathing it in silver light; one candle was lit over the desk, but it wasn’t really necessary.

You massaged your neck, frowning, and looked to your right side. Richter was sleeping over the desk right beside you, snoring softly and drooling a bit. It made you chuckle. Annette hadn’t moved a centimeter. You wondered if she’d feel pain when she “came back”; not moving for so many hours, not drinking water or eating…

“You should sleep a bit more.”

Alucard’s quiet voice reached your ears and immediately made you shiver… for some reason. He was being quieter than usual as to not wake Richter up or disturb Annette.

The white-haired vampire was comfortably sitting on the windowsill with his arms crossed, one of his legs over the wooden platform. The usual serenity adorned his features. Moonlight bathed him directly through the window, making his hair look like strands of pure braided silver. His long eyelashes cast a soft shadow over his golden eyes.

You rubbed your eyes and forehead. Of course, you were trying to brush the sleep away, but you also were trying to pretend his sole image didn’t make your stomach feel funny.

“I already slept too much,” you whispered back.

Alucard observed you in silence for some seconds. He pointed at something with his finger; a basket with some apples right beside Richter’s head.

Sure. You needed to eat. You haven’t had lunch at all. You held one of the apples and took a bite.

You munched in silence for some moments.

A silent battle took place within you.

You… wanted to approach him. You hadn’t really talked the entire day, too busy in your tasks to have a moment – and as stupid as it was because, well, he’d been near you the entire time, you… missed him. But you didn’t know if you should approach him at all. What if Alucard didn’t want to be disturbed? There was no reason for you to leave your spot in the room.

The hesitance only got worse because now, every time you looked at him, you remembered the hug. It was so comforting at that moment… why did you feel so embarrassed of yourself about it now? Alucard took the initiative to hug you first. There was nothing wrong with that, was it? Wasn’t it common for friends to hug each other? Well, you never had a friend before, you couldn’t tell if it was true...

Were you his friend in the first place? Did Alucard consider you a friend?

The truth is… you felt that something shifted in your “relationship” with him since that hug, even if it was all just in your head. You couldn’t tell exactly what. Maybe you were acting like a fool. Alucard probably didn’t stop to think about it even once.

You took another bite.

Alucard wouldn’t be mean to you, would he? He hadn’t been until that point. Not even once. So, why were you hesitating?

You gulped and got up from the chair.

Still holding the blanket, you crossed the room, tip toeing to not make much noise. Your eyes were glued on Annette’s immobile figure, both because you didn’t want to touch her by accident and because you didn’t want to make eye contact with Alucard yet. You knew he was watching you.

You sat on the other side of the windowsill, facing him. As the window was large, it was a considerable distance, which made the situation a bit less awkward for you. You put both legs over the windowsill and brought your knees close to your body, covering them with the blanket.

The only sound filling the room was of Richter’s soft snoring and your quiet munching.

It was peaceful. You didn’t expect you’d feel any peace in the hours that preceded the hell that would unleash upon the city. It was even a bit ironic how beautiful the moon looked that night.

After finishing eating the apple, you placed the stem aside and stayed in silence for some more minutes.

It took courage to speak up.

“Do you think they still need help out there?” Your voice was quiet.

Alucard didn’t take his eyes off the window.

“We already did everything we could to help them.” His deep, husky voice sounded even more soothing than usual for some reason. It was truly admirable how relaxed he could be in that moment, considering what awaited you in the near future. “They have all the instructions. They’ll know what to do.”

It was kind of him to include you in this. Your “help” wasn’t as significant as his; Alucard not only gave instructions, but led the entire defensive strategy. But you decided not to feel bad about that… not at that moment.

You put your hands over your knees and adjusted your posture a bit better.

“...Can I ask you something?”

Alucard turned his gaze to you for the first time, nodding.

“What did you mean back there at the square? When you said you don’t appreciate hypocrisy?”

The white-haired vampire exhaled softly; his expression got a tiny bit tense. You were under the impression he was expecting you to ask something else…

“That whole speech about liberty.” He started. His voice became more serious, a slight hint of annoyance once again. “It’s all surface level, you see. Very selfish. They talk about fighting for freedom whilst still keeping colonies under their power, refusing to let them be independent.” Alucard’s eyes landed on Annette. “Annette’s home country, Saint-Domingue, is one of these colonies. They are currently battling for independence over there. Annette herself was a slave; she had to fight for her own freedom.”

You widened your eyes and immediately looked at her as well.

Annette used to be a slave?!

Suddenly – many things about her started to make sense. The mark on her right hand… her words to you at the forest; “I understand how you feel”, she said. “Those people… they keep haunting you. On your sleep, or even when you’re awake”, she said.

“To be truly freed is to not be afraid.”

You tightened your hands on the blanket. Annette… she really could understand you better than anyone else. And she still came to this country to fight for the people that wouldn’t fight for her…

“Why did she even agree to help them?” You wondered in disbelief.

“She understands that Erzsebet will become a much bigger menace to the whole world if she’s not stopped in time.” Alucard tightened his eyes. “The people of France, like Richter and Maria, aren’t wrong for fighting against the monarchy. But it’s the leaderships of the Revolution that are hypocrites. If it’s not liberty for all, then it’s no liberty at all.”

You looked at Annette again.

She was so much stronger than you imagined… not only because she was a powerful witch or because she was, at that moment, wandering alone in the spirit world; Annette had a noble soul. She was strong enough to overcome her fears and fight for herself.

You wondered if you’d be like her one day.

You wanted to be like her.

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

Well… if you wanted to be like her, you’d have to overcome your fears, too. And your hesitancy.

You hugged your own legs and stared at the fabric of the blanket, gathering the courage to speak these next words out loud. If you spoke them, they would become more real. A part of you was scared of that fact.

“I… I think I have a son.”

Alucard immediately whipped his head at your whispered confession.

Although he was visibly surprised, he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.

“...Or a brother. I’m not sure.”

The white-haired vampire narrowed his eyes; he was the one that seemed to hesitate now, choosing his words carefully. “What makes you think that?”

You scratched your head nervously and frowned. “This dream I just had. I barely ever dream about anything… my sleep is usually empty. B-But I dreamed of this little boy that looks like me and…”

And I loved him.

I loved the little boy I saw in my dream with all my heart. I missed him the moment I opened my eyes and realized he wasn’t real.

You gulped, passed your hand over your face again. “Or maybe I’m still emotional over what happened to Oliver. I don’t know.” You shook your head, immediately feeling regret and embarrassment for admitting something so personal. Why would Alucard want to know about that anyway? “F-Forget about it. Just a dream, right? I guess it’s not important…”

“If it’s important to you, then it’s important.” Alucard held his chin and looked down, pensive. “Perhaps your memories are coming back in the form of dreams.”

It was a bit amazing how Alucard could reassure you with a blank expression on his face – as if he didn’t understand the impact his words had on you. You looked down at your knees again, that familiar heat already increasing on the back of your neck and cheeks.

“I-Is it common?” You tried to act like his words didn’t make you feel even more emotional.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell. I’ve… never suffered of memory loss before.” He shrugged. “But the mind works in mysterious ways, especially if we consider that your memories might’ve been taken away by magic.”

You exhaled and grabbed some strands of hair at the top of your head nervously again, as if trying to forcefully grab a memory from your brain.

“Why can’t I remember relevant things? Or at least straightforward things?” You whined to yourself. “Small, useless things come to me, but nothing that could help me find out who I am.”

Alucard leaned forward slightly, seeming interested.

“What type of things do you remember?” He asked softly.

You hummed.

“...I can’t call these things memories. They’re more like… things I know. Like…” You pressed your lips together. “I know the difference between a poisonous mushroom and an edible one. No one taught me that, I just know it. Or… there’s many animals I know of, though I don’t remember ever seeing them before. And…”

You looked out the window towards the sky. Alucard watched you with curiosity.

You pointed towards a specific star.

“That’s Mars.” Alucard looked subtly surprised. “Right in the middle of the Gemini constellation. Pollux, Castor…” You searched for something else in the sky. “And there… Betelgeuse, Bellatrix... the Orion constellation. And right over there–“ You pointed a bit downwards. “That’s Jupiter, in the middle of Taurus. And that star right beside it… it’s…” Your frown deepened and you hummed, trying to remember its name. “It’s…”

“Aldebaran.”

You looked back at Alucard.

He had the tiniest of the smiles on his lips.

“Yes. Aldebaran.” You confirmed, unable to hide your tiny smile that mirrored his.

“That’s why you look at the night sky so much? You were remembering?”

Oh.

You didn’t know Alucard paid attention to that.

You averted your gaze from his, trying to hide your shyness. “M-My point is: why do I remember these small things, and nothing more relevant… like where do I come from or my real name?”

Alucard leaned his back on the wall once more and looked out the window. You watched as serenity took the lead over his features again – being accompanied by quiet sorrow. That was new. You hadn’t seen him show an expression like that before.

...He looked quite vulnerable at that moment.

“My father… was many things,” he began, which immediately surprised you and locked all your attention over him. Alucard was finally letting one more piece of information about him; these moments were rare. You cherished them deeply. His voice was featherlight, mirroring the quiet vulnerability of his expression. “A scholar, a philosopher, an alchemist… and he was also an astronomer. He was passionate about the stars.”

A small sad smile appeared on his lips.

That was another new expression.

That was the same man that led an entire room full of generals with unyielding authority; the same man you’d seen kill vampires ruthlessly. A real warrior. And yet, at that moment, locked inside this small tailor shop with no more witnesses other than you, Alucard was letting himself be fragile for a moment.

Perhaps it was inappropriate of you to think this way – but at that moment, with the silver moonlight kissing his saddened image, he had never looked more beautiful.

The intricate paintings you’d seen at the Louvre did not compare to him.

“He taught me all about it when I was a child,” Alucard continued softly. “Constellations. Comets. Planets… I never forgot any of it.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking down. “What I mean with that is… I don’t really use this knowledge in my life other than to know the seasons of the year. Some magicians are benefited by the positions of celestial bodies, but they don’t affect the type of magic I use. And yet…” He finally looked up at you again. “This knowledge isn’t small or useless to me; because it was taught by someone I loved.”

For some reason, you felt your heart ache at his words.

Of course, you understood what he meant; he was trying to help, to change your perspective, to not deem that your simple “knowledge” was useless. However, what you noticed the most was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the quiet longing. You remembered, once again, the fact that Alucard was centuries old. Still, he visibly talked about his father with some sort of affection. Longing.

...He’d been missing someone for centuries?

But you remembered, once again, that his father was Dracula. The name that evoked primal fear in you; the vampire that, according to Richter, almost wiped out mankind. He must’ve been as dangerous as Erzsebet or even worse. Even so, Alucard seemed to miss him… it made the whole situation so much more painful.

Did Alucard have to kill someone he loved…?

Why did it make you so sad?

Maybe it wasn’t that serious to him; maybe it was a scar that had already healed long ago. Maybe you were being too emotional again. But the simple idea of Alucard having to go through something so horrible ached. You… you wished there was something you could do for him. If you could comfort him the way he comforted you so many times.

...You wondered if he’d mind if you came closer. If he’d be surprised if you draped your arms around his shoulders; if he’d push you away if you made him rest his head on your chest, the same way he did to you yesterday. You wondered if he’d appreciate if you held him like that; if he’d like if you caressed his hair, tangling your fingers on his silvery strands. You… you wondered if it would make him feel a bit better. If he’d sigh, if he would cage his arms around your waist and reciprocate it.

You didn’t just wonder it; you craved it. Because as much as his touch and his gaze and his eyes burned, you craved that burn. It wouldn’t hurt you – at least, not in the ways you were used to.

It was scary.

If you were a little more brave, you would’ve moved. You would’ve made your imagination come true.

...But once again, you were reminded that there wasn’t time for any of that.

You felt a cold shiver run your spine, which immediately snapped you out of your trance. What surprised you, however, is that you weren’t the only one; Alucard also frowned and immediately straightened his posture, putting both feet on the floor again.

Both of you turned to Annette.

Both of you watched in quiet shock when she started to float in the air, keeping her meditation position.

Both of you stood up.

“...Is this normal?” You whispered.

“I don’t know.” He whispered back.

“What do we do?”

“There’s nothing we can do.”

“I should wake–“

“No.” Alucard held your arm softly before you took one more step. “Let the boy sleep. There’s nothing he can do, either. He’ll just be even more stressed.”

You gulped and nodded, sitting on the windowsill again and hoping that whatever battle Annette was facing, she’d be strong enough to win.

Hours went by. The sun raised in the sky again – and with him, apprehension beyond words.

Before, Richter was the only one walking from side to side and biting nails; now, you felt like a pile of anxiety yourself, watching as Annette didn’t send any sign that she was close to coming back. Two hours ago, she had gasped for a moment as if she was underwater; after that, her expression went back to being blank and she stopped levitating, her body slowly getting down on the floor again.

No more reactions after that.

The streets were packed with soldiers once more. You looked out the window and back to her nervously. What if she got lost in the spirit world? What if she never came back?

Even Alucard was beginning to show hints of anxiety. He chose to stay in the same spot by the window, but his eyes wandered outside as well. He had taken responsibility over the entire operation, after all. Despite what he said past night, you knew he also worried for everyone.

You stopped beside him with crossed arms. Richter couldn’t stay still for a moment. The three of you watched Annette in silence.

You didn’t want Richter to hear your question. Hell, you didn’t want to voice that yourself – but it had to be asked at some point.

“Alucard, what if… what if she…” you whispered; yet, you weren’t brave enough to finish that sentence.

What if she doesn’t make it?

Alucard understood anyway.

“We’ll fight.” He replied with simplicity. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. Annette never coming back… Erzsebet possessing the true power of Sekhmet… all the unprepared soldiers out there… you were experiencing the worst case scenario. You wished there was something else you could do. Anything to help her.

Minutes went by. Minutes. Minutes…

You… started to feel a strange weakness in the pit of your stomach.

Your legs felt wobbly. It wasn’t due to hunger or anxiety this time; you knew it. This sensation was familiar – albeit much weaker than the other times you had felt it.

You gasped and turned around to face the window.

“No.” You whispered in disbelief.

Alucard and Richter were surprised by your sudden reaction; then, they focused on the window as well.

On the sky.

The sun was beginning to be covered by a shadow.

Slowly, the sky got a sickening red color as the eclipse progressed; sunlight was starting to vanish. You heard rushed voices and screams out there, people running on the streets, locking themselves inside their homes, soldiers yelling orders. A sentiment of fear grew almost palpable over the whole city.

Alucard’s suspicions were right.

With the second half of Sekhmet’s soul, Erzsebet did not need you anymore to summon an eclipse.

You already knew he was most certainly right, but you foolishly tried to be positive. Maybe she won’t be able to summon an eclipse anyway.

All your thin hopes were shattered.

It was impossible to ease your aching heart or calm your shaking hands. The eclipse was the bad omen that indicated her approach. Was Erzsebet close by already? Was her army marching near the borders of Paris?

You couldn’t take your eyes off the window anymore or shut your loud mind – and that’s why you didn’t notice Richter calling Annette behind you.

Suddenly – heat.

You turned around in a jump in time to see Annette being involved in golden light.

Richter was sent flying back and hit his back against a cabinet. Wind made everyone’s clothes and hair sway; you had to protect your eyes with your arm to not be blinded. It became hot hot hot hot inside the atelier; you felt goosebumps roam your skin, your stomach drop, a certain dizziness – the effects of standing near so much power.

Finally – the light diminished. You put your arm down slowly and opened your eyes.

A shocked gasp escaped past your lips.

Annette levitated in the air some centimeters away from the floor; her hair suddenly got longer, her braids cascading over her shoulders like a beautiful lion’s mane. She wore an ancient Egyptian red attire adorned with details in gold. Her closed eyes were painted with blue and red kohl. She had a golden aura around her; the temperature inside the atelier increased significantly.

She carried so much power that the air trembled.

“...Annette?” Richter called hesitantly – but you already knew, and he knew as well, that this wasn’t Annette anymore.

“Where is she?” she spoke; her voice was distorted – beyond her normal voice, there was another female voice speaking upon it, too.

Annette finally opened her eyes. They looked like ponds of pure melted gold; her pupils, vertical like a cat’s.

“Where is this Erzsebet?” she demanded with the authority of a queen.

No… not a queen. A goddess.

Annette wasn’t in front of you anymore. Sekhmet was.

It made all the tiny hairs in your arms and at the back of your neck raise; your breath got difficult. This sensation was familiar – you had witnessed Erzsebet being possessed by Sekhmet’s power before. And yet, it felt slightly different now. The fear wasn’t accompanied by menace or cruelty. It felt more like witnessing a raging tornado coming towards you.

Annette had succeeded.

Great, this was great. Your chances in battle increased significantly with such a powerful ally; more importantly, Annette was alive. Maybe the goddess had possessed her body for a while, but it meant that her consciousness was still there somehow, maybe watching everything in the back of her mind…

Annette– Sekhmet extended her arms, watching everything with a high chin.

“My three souls must be rejoined and the cosmic balance restored,” she said in that same chilling, proud tone. “Though this mortal vessel might be too fragile for the souls of a god.”

Richter tightened his fists; sweat dripped down his temples. You’d never seen him look so worried as in that moment. The Belmont boy stepped forward.

“We will lead you to her. Erzsebet is coming to this city.”

Sekhmet did not show any reaction. It was a bit unsettling to see Annette’s face carrying that ferocious, yet soulless expression–

But then, she laid eyes on you for the first time.

Her gaze was piercing. It made you feel exposed for some reason; as if she was able to see inside of you, inside your soul.

Her eyes scanned your face, then laid on your chest for some moments.

Sekhmet frowned like a feral cat.

It was the first facial expression she showed.

“She must not be close to me.”

You froze in place, absolutely speechless.

W...What?!

Both Alucard and Richter looked from Sekhmet to you rapidly, as shocked as you. What did she mean? Why couldn’t you be close to her? She– She didn’t like you? Did it have anything to do with your involvement with Erzsebet? What was the problem?!

“Don’t make me repeat myself, human,” Sekhmet hissed again, this time addressing Richter; the tailor shop trembled at her anger. Alucard was the only one that didn’t flinch or move. “Where is this Erzsebet?! Lead me to her!”

Richter looked back at you one more time, sending you an apologetic look. The goddess was impatient – and it wasn’t a good idea to make her wait, especially while she inhabited Annette’s body. No one had any idea if it’d be harmful for her to be possessed for so long.

The Belmont boy gulped and walked towards the door, unlocking it and walking out. Sekhmet followed him, levitating out of the atelier.

You stood there, shell-shocked, not knowing how to react.

Alucard’s touch took you out of that state.

He put both hands over your shoulders, blocking the sight of the floating goddess out there and forcing you to lock all of your attention on him. Severity weighed on his features; he had an accentuated frown, his jaw was tightened. And yet, he somehow still looked down at you with care.

“It’d already be best for you to keep out of sight,” his tone indicated that he was not willing to debate this.

You tightened your fists, your shoulders dropped. You knew he was right regardless of Sekhmet’s demand. You knew you didn’t know how to wield a sword or a rifle; you knew you’d be useless in battle. You weren’t a powerful magician or a warrior like these two. You weren’t even like the civilians in uniforms out there – they’d be more useful than you.

But even so… even so…

Alucard cupped your cheek softly.

Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t in panic as you were before that made his gesture burn right away. It burned burned burned much more than Sekhmet’s hot power out there; it spread warmth through your body, made your chest tighten. Heavens, it burned so much; his caring gaze, his gentle touch, his sweet smell… everything burned–

But oh god – how you wanted to burn in this fire.

The rushed voices and steps out there got muffled. It seemed that time itself slowed down for a moment while you looked into each other’s eyes.

“I’ve failed you two times before,” Alucard said in a smooth, yet determined tone; his thumb caressed your cheek gently. “I promise I won’t fail you again. Erzsebet and Drolta won’t get anywhere near you.”

You didn’t know what to answer.

Alucard was the first person to ever stand up for you; the first person to ever protect you, to make you feel safe. Yes, maybe you were being too emotional. Maybe you were letting your emotions take the lead instead of sanity. But how could you not feel this affection towards him in situations like this?

You believed him. You trusted him.

You nodded.

Alucard managed to offer you a small smile. He let go of your cheek and held your wrist softly, passing his finger over the red string. He still wore his.

“Remember.” He patted his finger over it. You nodded yet again.

When Alucard stepped back, the world started moving at the normal pace again. The noises became clear. The city was loud now – and you felt incredibly cold.

He sent you a last significant gaze before turning around and leaving the atelier, closing the door behind him.

And then – you were alone.

Minutes went by. You walked from side to side with crossed arms. The city was painted in an eerie red hue due to the eclipse; you saw many soldiers running through the window. You tried to calm down, control your breathing, focus on a single thing– but fuck, you couldn’t. Not anymore.

You hoped Alucard, Richter and Annette were safe – especially Annette. You hoped everything would get solved fast so the goddess could leave her body. You hoped Richter would find the strength to fight. You hoped Alucard would succeed in his strategy. You hoped the civilians out there, courageously wearing uniforms and standing up to fight for their families, would survive; as many as possible, at least.

You hoped there was something you could do.

You sat on the windowsill and leaned your head on both hands, gripping your hair nervously. You couldn’t help but shake. You knew Alucard was right; you didn’t want to get hurt or to cross ways with Drolta or Erzsebet. He was being rational. He was correct.

But even so… even so–

Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of an explosion.

The floor shook. Multiple screams echoed in the night, followed by shots. More explosions – these were somewhere near, probably a few streets away; you heard more distant explosions too. Cannons being ignited.

The battle had started.

You got up again, unable to control your anxiety. More screams more shots more explosions more earthquakes. The sky lightened up with different colors – blue and red and yellow – for a few seconds. Your heart raced, sweat already covered your forehead, your fingers trembled. Pure chaos had unleashed upon the city.

Erzsebet and Drolta were somewhere out there fighting.

This perception frightened you, made you want to dig a hole on the ground and hide there forever. You couldn’t be seen or caught by them – death felt like a more merciful future, but you couldn’t die, and that was the problem.

At the same time, another feeling increased. Burned.

Anger.

And urgency.

Everyone was fighting out there. Everyone was contributing somehow, putting their lives on the line. Humans against vampires and night creatures; they were much more courageous than you were. All of them were risking their fragile mortal lives. You were reminded of how easy it is for a human to die – while you, with this strange healing condition, were hidden there, too scared to get hurt.

You were tired of feeling useless and even more tired of feeling scared.

Fuck, there should be something you could do! Anything actually useful. You held your head again, once more hating your stupid empty brain, wishing you could find a relevant memory despite what Alucard said before–

Your eyes stopped on the scepter.

It was in the corner of the room exactly were you left it. You weren’t brave enough to touch it again.

You stood there and stared at it.

Explosions. Screams. Earthquakes. Shots. Multiple steps. Everything had a red tone to it. You kept your eyes locked on the golden artifact, the symbol of the sun; you stared and stared and stared and–

You remembered.

Once again – it wasn’t exactly a memory. It was more of a feeling; a knowledge. The scepter seems to be reacting to your feelings, Alucard said that time. It shone and burned the three vampires alive as if they were standing under the sun.

You somehow caused this reaction.

And at that moment, something deep within you told you that you could make that again.

You could make it bigger.

Your fists tightened. You gulped and straightened your posture.

Alucard told you to keep out of sight. Sekhmet said you shouldn’t be near her.

But you looked out the window and saw these soldiers running with rifles in hand; the fragility of their lives didn’t stop them from fighting. Maybe there was something you could do. Maybe you could help them somehow in a truly effective way.

You crossed the room and held the scepter; it was cold, lifeless. You’d find a way to make it work again – you had too. You stood in front of the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. It was shaking.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

You were scared. You were frightened.

But Annette’s voice echoed in the back of your mind:

To be truly freed is to not be afraid.

You opened your eyes, turned the doorknob and ran out of the atelier shop – stepping into the red chaos.

#alucard x reader #alucard #adrian tepes #castlevania #castlevania nocturne #alucard castlevania #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard x you #castlevania netflix #castlevania x reader #castlevania alucard #adrian tepes x reader

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cup1drul3z · 24 days ago

Text

★ — Love at first bite

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2 : ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 10.9ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : vampires, age gap, chubby!reader, arranged marriage, 1600s, dub con, parental abuse, slut shaming, depression, taboo, DARK ROMANCE, blood mentioned, a little bit of gruesome detail

A/N : i dont know if this fic will land well

Summary : You wake somewhere unfamiliar, safe in Sevika’s arms—but the bond has begun to bloom, and it’s changing you. As her world unfolds—full of danger, blood, and watchful eyes—you begin to understand what it means to be promised. Desire sharpens into something darker, and you're no longer sure where you end and she begins.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You didn’t even remember closing your eyes.

It happened somewhere between the chamber and the hall—your head tucked against Sevika’s collarbone, your fingers tangled in the folds of her coat. Your body was weightless now, breath slowing, limbs no longer shaking. The thud of her heart beneath you pulsed like a lullaby.

Warmth bled out from your wrist where the bracelet touched her skin.

Her voice was low, steady.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you… just keep breathing. Just a little longer.”

But your vision was already starting to blur.

The world smeared at the edges like wet paint—light and shadow bleeding together, gold melting into red.

And then…

Red.

Blood. Thick and black in the candlelight, pooled across the white marble of the great hall like spilled ink.

Your fingers twitched.

You blinked. Hard.

Your mother’s body lay slumped across the base of the staircase, her hand still curled around her rosary. Her eyes open. Empty. A slice of red drawn across her throat like ribbon.

Your father was sprawled a few feet away—his chest carved open. One leg bent wrong. His crown cracked in half beside him.

You blinked again, heart stuttering in your chest, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t speak.

Sevika didn’t stop walking.

Past them.

Over them.

Like stepping through old leaves.

And they were waiting.

Six figures in total—standing in the center of the hall like a pack of wolves just done with the kill.

Eyes glowing. Blood splattered on velvet and lace. One of them—tall, wiry, and grinning—held a bloodied scepter like a toy. Another leaned against a broken candelabra, licking her fingertips.

You recognized her instantly.

Bright blue hair.

Eyes like frostbite.

She looked at Sevika and laughed.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, voice sharp with delight. “This place reeks, and they both tasted like rats.”

The others chuckled. One let out a low whistle. Another dragged a heavy ring from your father’s finger.

Sevika didn’t look at them.

She just held you tighter.

And walked through the front doors of the palace like she owned the night.

You didn’t say a word.

You couldn’t.

Your eyes fluttered closed again, your last thought a broken whisper in your chest:

Im scared of you.

But you didn’t let go of her coat.

Not once.

You woke to the sound of rain.

Soft and rhythmic, tapping gently against tall windows somewhere above your head. The air was cooler here, heavy with petrichor and the scent of old wood and dried herbs. You blinked slowly, breath catching before you even fully opened your eyes.

The ceiling above you was dark oak, carved with curling shapes—vines, maybe. Roses.

You weren’t in your room.

You weren’t anywhere you recognized.

The sheets beneath you were thick and clean, linen-soft, but your nightgown clung to you with dried sweat. The pillow beneath your head was still warm.

You sat up slowly, arms shaking, muscles sore in strange places.

Your heart began to race.

You looked around.

The bed was canopied in gauzy dark curtains. A fireplace crackled low across the room. A tray sat untouched on the table near the window—bread, fruit, tea, a folded cloth.

Someone had changed you.

Someone had bathed you.

You pressed a hand to your chest. The bracelet was still there.

The room was silent save for the fire and rain.

But you weren’t alone.

She sat in the corner.

Slouched in a heavy chair, one leg draped over the other, her coat open, arms crossed. Her short hair was mussed and still damp from the rain, eyes half-lidded but alert. Watching.

Sevika.

Her gaze found you instantly the moment you stirred.

You swallowed hard, your throat dry.

“You’re awake,” she said softly. No smile. Just the fact of it. “Good.”

You wanted to speak. To ask where you were. What happened. Who those people were.

But all that came out was—

“…you came.”

She exhaled once through her nose. Almost a laugh, but not quite.

“Took me too long,” she muttered. “I should’ve gotten you out sooner.”

You shook your head, vision blurring again, tears welling hot before you could stop them.

“You killed them.”

She didn’t flinch.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I saw their bodies,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I thought I was dreaming.”

Sevika stood slowly, moving to the edge of the bed. She didn’t touch you. Just crouched, one arm braced on her knee, her voice low and even.

“You weren’t.”

You looked at her—really looked at her.

Her knuckles were bruised. There was blood still crusted along one side of her collar. She hadn’t changed.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

“Are you going to hurt me too?”

Her jaw tightened.

“No.”

“You said I was promised.”

“You were.”

She leaned forward now, finally placing a hand��carefully—at your ankle beneath the blanket.

“But no one gets to own you.”

Your breath caught.

The room was so quiet you could hear the crackle of the fire and the rain sliding down the glass.

Your fingers twisted in the blanket.

You weren’t sure if you believed her.

But for the first time in days, maybe weeks—

You weren’t afraid.

You were just tired.

And warm.

And still alive.

You didn’t mean to cry.

It wasn’t like the sobs from the chamber, or the screams against the locked door. It wasn’t even about your parents, not really. It came slowly—quietly—as you sat there on the edge of the bed, the blanket bunched in your fists, your bare feet touching the rug.

The fire cracked softly in the distance.

Sevika hadn't moved.

But when your chest hitched, when your breath came sharp and uneven—she noticed.

She stood, slowly, and before you could say anything, she was there.

She didn’t ask.

She didn’t speak.

She just sat beside you on the bed, reached out, and pulled you in.

Her arms wrapped around you with no hesitation. No caution.

One broad hand cradled the back of your head as your cheek pressed to her chest. The other curled around your ribs, anchoring you there—tight, steady, warm.

And that was all it took.

The tears slipped loose, silent at first, then all at once.

Your fingers twisted in her shirt.

Your shoulders began to shake.

You didn’t know what you were crying for. Not exactly.

Not for your mother. Not for your father. Not even just for Sevika.

It was the chamber.

The blood.

The screaming—real or imagined.

The suffocating silence.

The days of not being touched.

The aching confusion of being wanted and warned about, of being locked up and then carried out like you mattered.

It was everything.

Too much.

And Sevika said nothing.

She just held you.

Her chin rested lightly on your head, her fingers carding slowly through your hair. You heard her heart—slow, steady, real—and her chest rising against yours with every quiet breath.

You cried until you couldn’t anymore.

Until the sobs turned into shudders.

Until the tears dried on your cheeks.

And still—she didn’t let go.

Not until you did.

You didn’t let go of her hand.

Not even when the silence stretched long again, curling thick in the warm space between you.

Your thumb traced the edge of the bracelet absently, the weight of it suddenly unbearable. You stared down at it, lips parted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Why me?”

Sevika didn’t flinch.

She knew the question was coming.

She shifted beside you, the chair creaking slightly under her weight, her broad shoulders sinking a little with the breath she dragged in.

“Because you were promised,” she said quietly. “At birth.”

Your heart jumped.

You looked up.

She was watching the fire now, the orange light flickering across the sharp angles of her face, the cut on her brow still crusted and raw.

“You were a newborn,” she went on. “Still pink and quiet and wrapped in silk when your father signed the pact. They’d been bleeding soldiers for five winters. The humans were losing. So he called on House Vaedren. He promised his daughter—unmarred, untouched, bound—to our line. As long as she stayed pure, the alliance held.”

“And you…” Your voice shook. “You were the heir?”

Her jaw clenched.

“I was supposed to be.”

You blinked, sitting up slightly.

“What happened?”

Her eyes finally met yours.

And you saw it there. Buried behind the red glow. Regret.

“I ran.”

You sucked in a breath.

“I was seventeen. I didn’t want to be tethered to a cradle, to some helpless human child. I was angry. Arrogant. Thought the vow was beneath me.”

You said nothing.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, fingers laced together—tight, like she was holding herself together.

“But I came back,” she murmured. “Not for the court. Not for the crown.”

Her voice dropped lower.

“I came back for you.”

The words hit something deep in your chest. It didn’t make sense—it shouldn’t make sense—but the ache that bloomed in your ribs was real. You remembered the figure in the snow. The voice in your dreams. The way her arms wrapped around you like a shelter you didn’t know you’d been promised.

“But they said the heir died,” you whispered.

“They let them believe that. Gave the name to my cousin. Paraded him around in silks while I rotted in exile for breaking the vow.”

“And now?”

Her lips curled into something dark and unreadable.

“I took it back.”

Your mouth went dry.

“The court?” you asked. “The blood… the others… were they—”

“They followed me.”

“And my parents?”

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t have to.

You swallowed hard.

Then: “So what happens now?”

Sevika leaned back again. One hand drifted up, brushing your hair behind your ear.

She studied your face for a long moment. Her voice, when it came, was low and sure.

“Now, princess…” she murmured, “you’re mine.”

She didn’t blink when she said it.

“You’re mine.”

It hung in the air like smoke—thick, undeniable, curling around your ribs and settling behind your eyes.

You couldn’t look away from her.

Not even when your heart stumbled.

Not even when your breath caught in your throat like a prayer too dangerous to say.

You didn’t answer.

But you didn’t pull away, either.

Sevika watched you carefully, her thumb brushing just beneath your jaw, tilting your face toward her just enough to make your pulse stutter.

“I shouldn’t say that,” she said quietly, her voice like flint striking. “Not yet. Not while you’re still fragile. Still bleeding inside.”

Her eyes dropped to your lips.

“But I’ve waited eighteen years, and I’m done pretending I don’t feel it.”

You swallowed.

The heat from the fire flickered across your bare legs under the blanket, but it was nothing compared to the heat crawling up your spine from the weight of her stare.

“Feel what?” you whispered.

Her fingers trailed down your neck, slow, reverent.

“The bond.”

Her voice was low, almost reverent.

“It’s not just in the promise. It’s in you. I can feel your heartbeat through the bracelet. I feel your fear before you know you’re scared. Your thoughts echo when I get too close. And when you dream—”

She broke off, her jaw flexing.

Your lips parted slightly, your breath shaky.

“When I dream what?”

Her eyes were on you again.

“You call for me.”

The words hit low in your stomach.

Sevika leaned in, slow, deliberate, until her forehead nearly touched yours. You could smell her again—earth, blood, firelight. Her voice was barely a breath now, spoken against your lips without touching them.

“So when I say you’re mine,” she murmured, “I don’t mean it like a soldier means a flag. I mean it like a beast means a kill. Like blood means belonging.”

You whimpered without meaning to.

And that was all it took.

Her mouth brushed yours—not quite a kiss. Just a taste. A warning. A claim.

But when you didn’t flinch—when your hand gripped her coat again, pulling her closer—she growled softly.

The next kiss wasn’t a question.

It was possession made flesh.

Hot, slow, and deep, her mouth on yours like she was sealing something ancient, her hand cupping the back of your neck as her thumb dragged over your jaw. You gasped into her, and she didn’t stop—just kissed you harder, lips sliding, teeth grazing. Her other hand anchored you by the waist, pulling you flush against her chest, the nightgown thin and utterly useless between your skin and hers.

You moaned softly, your fingers curling into her shirt like lifelines.

When she finally pulled back—barely—your lips were kiss-bruised and parted, eyes wide.

Sevika’s breath hit your cheek as she looked at you—hungry and knowing.

“You feel it now, don’t you?”

You nodded.

You didn’t trust your voice.

Her thumb traced your lower lip, slow and heavy with promise.

“I won’t take you until you ask me to,” she murmured. “But the bond’s awake now.”

Your heart thudded.

“What does that mean?”

Her eyes burned red, dark and shining.

“It means you’ll crave me. Ache when I’m gone. Dream in blood and silk. And when you finally beg—”

She smiled.

“It’ll be too late to run.”

You didn’t realize how close you’d drifted.

Your head was cradled against Sevika’s chest again, your breath slowing despite the ache still coiled low in your stomach, your lips still tingling from the kiss she left on them like a seal. She hadn’t spoken in minutes.

Neither had you.

You were just... held.

You felt her press a kiss into your hair.

Soft. Final.

And your fingers twitched, clutching at her coat again.

“No,” you mumbled, the word small, cracked with sleep. “Don’t go…”

Her arms tightened around you. Not for long. Just long enough for you to feel it—how much she didn’t want to leave, either.

“I have to,” she murmured. “Only for a while.”

Your brows pinched faintly.

“Where?”

“There’s unrest. The court wasn’t built to follow me—and the ones that did…” she trailed off. “Not all of them were loyal. Not really.”

You didn’t understand all of it. You were too tired. Your head was spinning again, the firelight blurring into soft golden streaks across her shoulder.

“Stay…” you whispered, barely audible.

Her fingers slid into your hair.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice a low rasp now, rich with regret. “But I’ll leave something with you.”

You blinked slowly, trying to sit up, but your limbs felt heavier now.

She pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you. Her hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your mouth like she was memorizing it.

“Close your eyes, princess.”

You shook your head weakly. “Don’t wanna.”

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes glowing faintly now, casting a warm red shimmer across your skin. “But I can’t have you missing me like this. It’ll make you sick. You’re already starting to feel it, aren’t you?”

Your throat tightened. You didn’t answer.

“Shh,” she breathed. “Let me take care of you.”

And then she hummed.

A low, velvet note. Not a song—not really—but something older. Something that vibrated in your chest and behind your eyes, curling around your breath and weaving into your blood like a slow tide pulling you under.

Your limbs relaxed before you even realized it.

Your grip on her coat slipped. Your lashes fluttered.

“That's it,” she whispered, lips brushing your temple. “Sleep for me. You’ll wake up warm. You’ll wake up safe.”

You tried to speak.

You couldn’t.

Your head lolled softly to the side, cheek pressed to the crook of her neck.

And the last thing you felt was her fingers brushing the bracelet again, like she was reminding it—reminding you—who you belonged to.

Then darkness.

But not the chamber kind.

Not the cold kind.

This one was warm.

Soft.

And filled with her scent.

You woke with a sharp breath, your body already tense before your eyes even opened.

It was too quiet.

The fire had burned down to embers, and the pale morning light was leaking through the tall windows—blue-grey and cold. You shifted slightly under the heavy quilt, the silk of your nightgown cool against your skin, the air smelling faintly of rain and dried rose.

You turned your head toward the sound.

A floorboard creaked.

And two figures stood near the hearth.

You froze.

One leaned lazily against the mantel—tall and narrow in the waist, with short pink hair and rings on every knuckle. She was chewing on something, eyes fixed on you with bored amusement, like you were a curiosity she couldn’t quite decide whether to break or keep.

The other stood straighter. Sharper. Dark hair pulled back in a tidy twist, her velvet coat buttoned high to her throat. Her blue eyes were piercing, intelligent, and far too focused on you.

Your breath caught in your chest.

You bolted upright with a gasp, dragging the blanket to your chest, backing up so fast you nearly hit the headboard.

“Easy,” the blue-haired girl said, lifting one hand casually. “Don’t go fainting or screaming, it’s too early.”

You said nothing.

You didn’t breathe.

Your eyes flicked between them—trying to place them, trying to understand why they felt wrong. Familiar in the worst way. Like dreams you couldn’t remember.

"Violet," the girl with the blue coat warned softly, "you’re scaring her."

The pink-haired one—Violet—just smirked. “She’s tougher than she looks.”

You didn’t speak.

Your fingers were clenched in the sheets, your chest rising and falling in short, shallow bursts.

“She’s not here,” Caitlyn said after a beat, her voice low and calm. “Sevika. She left before dawn. You’re safe.”

You blinked.

Your lips parted—but still, no sound came.

You felt her absence like a phantom limb.

“You probably don’t remember us,” Caitlyn continued gently. “But we’ve been around longer than you think. We came with her. We're not here to hurt you.”

Still—nothing.

But your head was starting to pound.

A slow, blooming ache behind your eyes. Like heat pressing into the bone.

“I know this is overwhelming,” Caitlyn said, taking a small step closer. “But what you’re feeling—it’s the bond. It's waking up. Your body wasn’t meant to carry that kind of power without breaking a little. But you’re strong. You—”

Pain.

It hit like a lightning strike. You sucked in a breath and slapped a hand to your temple, vision going white at the edges.

Both girls tensed.

“Shit—” Violet pushed off the mantel.

“Don’t touch her,” Caitlyn snapped.

“I wasn’t going to—!”

You pressed yourself against the headboard, fingers gripping your skull as the pressure built. Heat flooded your chest, and your heart thundered like it was trying to escape. A noise tore out of your throat—a half-sob, half-snarl.

Your vision blurred again.

Your skin felt wrong.

“I need—” you gasped, “I need her—!”

Caitlyn moved closer but stayed low, crouching a few feet away like you were something cornered and dangerous.

“She’s coming back,” she said gently. “But until then… we need to keep you from burning out.”

“Get her some of that bloodwine,” Violet muttered.

“She’s not ready—”

“She’s already breaking,” Violet snapped. “Do you want Sevika coming home to a corpse?”

You didn’t hear the rest.

You were already curling forward, forehead to your knees, sweat slick on your spine, the smell of smoke curling faint at the edges of your mind.

You needed her.

Now.

You were shaking.

The pain didn’t feel like pain anymore—it felt like splitting. Like something ancient was trying to crawl out of your chest and peel your ribs open with its teeth.

Your heart was racing so fast it blurred into a buzz, your mouth dry, your skin hot to the touch. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even see anymore.

“She’s gonna pass out,” Violet muttered, her voice sharp now, not teasing anymore. “Or tear the whole fucking manor apart.”

“I told Sevika this was too soon,” Caitlyn hissed under her breath, already moving. “Keep her steady.”

Violet stepped forward and grabbed the blanket before you could recoil. She threw it off with one hand and planted the other against your shoulder, forcing you upright against the headboard. Her grip was firm. Cold.

You flinched.

“I said hold still,” Violet snapped, and her strength wasn’t human—your writhing did nothing.

Caitlyn knelt beside the bed with a small dark vial she’d pulled from her coat. The glass was frosted and humming faintly, like something inside it was alive.

“What is that—” you tried to speak, but it came out slurred. Your tongue was heavy. Your vision rippled like oil.

“Bloodwine,” Caitlyn said calmly, uncorking the vial. “It’s not hers. Don’t panic. It’s mine. You just need enough to keep the bond from consuming you.”

“I—I can’t—”

“You can.” She grabbed your jaw—not harshly, but firmly—and tipped your face toward her. Her other hand brought the vial to your lips.

“Open.”

You clenched your teeth.

Violet leaned down closer, voice brushing your ear with a dry laugh.

“If you don’t drink it, little bride,” she murmured, “you’ll burn out before Sevika even gets to say goodbye.”

That did it.

Your lips parted.

Caitlyn poured the thick, warm liquid into your mouth. It tasted like metal and flowers and fire. Your throat spasmed, instinct screaming to spit it out—but your body drank. Like it knew.

It slid down your throat like silk. Sweet and dark and wrong.

Your back arched.

Your vision went black.

For a second, you felt everything—Sevika’s name pounding through your skull like a storm, her hunger under your skin, her heat curled in your stomach like a sleeping beast. Her lips on your neck. Her voice in your blood.

Then—

Silence.

You collapsed back against the pillows.

Panting.

Soaked in sweat.

Your eyes fluttered open. The world was quiet again. Real.

You stared up at the ceiling.

Caitlyn wiped your mouth with a cloth.

Violet sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, watching you like she was waiting for you to start glowing or combust.

“She’s stabilizing,” Caitlyn said softly.

“For now,” Violet muttered.

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

You just stared at the ceiling and thought about how wrong your own heartbeat felt now. Like it wasn’t yours.

Like it never had been.

The house shifted before she even opened the door.

Caitlyn stood from the chair beside your bed, spine stiffening.

Violet rolled her eyes but moved off the mattress.

The scent of rain came first—wet leather, crushed earth, smoke. Then the cold.

And then Sevika stepped into the room.

Her coat was still dripping, the collar pulled up around her neck. Her hair was damp, pushed back from her face, and her eyes—her eyes—burned a deep molten red the second they landed on you.

Her expression didn’t change.

Not at first.

Just a slow, tight sweep of her gaze over your body—pale, sweating, the sheet pulled halfway to your waist, your lips stained faintly pink.

Then her eyes landed on Caitlyn.

“You fed her.”

Caitlyn straightened. “She was dying.”

Sevika’s jaw ticked.

“She’s mine.”

“I know that.”

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

“I saved her life.”

Sevika crossed the room in two long strides.

Violet didn’t flinch. Caitlyn didn’t move.

You did.

You were already pushing up on your elbows, your head swimming. “Sevika—”

Her eyes cut to you, sharp and unreadable.

And then—without a word—she was at your side.

One hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head toward her. Her thumb swept over your lower lip, pressing hard enough to part it. She sniffed—slow, deliberate—and the scent of Caitlyn’s blood still clung faintly to your breath.

Sevika growled.

It was low. Animal.

You gasped.

“Open your mouth,” she said.

“Sevika—”

Her voice dropped an octave.

“Now.”

You obeyed.

Her other hand came up, palm pressing against your sternum—fingers spread, cold and heavy. And then you felt it: a twist. A pull. Something inside your stomach turned over like it was being gripped by invisible hands.

You choked.

You gagged.

And then you were coughing, gasping—and vomiting a dark, glittering stream onto the floor beside the bed. It burned coming up, thick and unnatural, the scent of iron flooding your nose.

You collapsed back against the pillows, shaking.

Sevika didn’t blink.

She just reached into her coat, pulling a vial from her inside pocket—silver-capped, black-glass, humming low.

Her bloodwine.

Yours.

The bond’s.

She uncorked it with one hand.

Slipped an arm behind your neck, raising you carefully—more gently now.

“Open,” she murmured.

You did.

She poured the blood into your mouth, slower than Caitlyn had, her thumb brushing your throat as you swallowed. It was hotter. Richer. And when it hit your gut, it stuck.

You gasped, arching slightly—eyes wide as the bond flared to life again, not in pain this time, but in relief. Like every nerve in your body exhaled.

Sevika watched you the whole time.

When the last drop was gone, she wiped your mouth with her thumb.

And leaned close.

“This,” she whispered, brushing your damp hair off your cheek, “is mine to give.”

You nodded shakily, breath catching.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean—”

“I know.”

She kissed your forehead. Not tender. Claiming.

And then her eyes flicked to the other two in the room.

“Out.”

Caitlyn didn’t argue. She left first, silent.

Violet lingered, smirking faintly. “She might need us again.”

“She won’t,” Sevika said without looking.

“She might want us.”

Sevika turned her head.

Her smile was teeth.

“She only wants me.”

And Violet—laughing softly under her breath—finally slipped out, shutting the door behind her.

Leaving you alone.

In a room that suddenly felt like it belonged to Sevika, not you.

And you didn’t mind at all.

The room had gone still again.

The scent of bloodwine lingered faintly, but your stomach had stopped churning. You were warm. Tired, but… no longer empty.

Just shaky.

Sevika stayed near the bed, her hand resting lightly on your ankle through the blanket, eyes scanning your face like she was memorizing each fragile detail.

You shifted beneath the covers.

She noticed.

“You want to stand,” she said softly.

It wasn’t a question.

You hesitated. Then nodded.

She rose slowly, towering and solid in the firelight, her soaked coat still heavy with rain. With one arm, she peeled it off and tossed it aside, leaving only the soft black shirt beneath—tight at the arms, loose at the collar. Her boots thudded as she moved to your side.

“I won’t let you fall,” she murmured.

You swallowed.

“I haven’t walked since—”

“I know.”

She crouched at your side, her gloved hands sliding beneath your knees and your back, lifting you effortlessly.

You gasped, arms hooking around her neck on instinct.

“Sevika—”

“I’ve got you.”

Her voice was rough velvet, her breath brushing your ear as she carried you across the room. She moved slowly, deliberately, like you were something precious she didn’t want to jostle. When she stopped near a long upholstered bench near the fire, she set you down on your feet—gently.

Your knees buckled immediately.

But she was ready.

Her arms wrapped around your waist before you could drop, pulling you into her chest, one broad hand flattening against your back.

“Don’t rush it,” she murmured.

You clenched your jaw.

“I’m fine—”

“You’re not.” Her voice sharpened just slightly. “You haven’t eaten real food. You haven’t stood in days. You were locked in the dark, half-bonded and half-dead. You’re allowed to lean.”

Your throat tightened.

So you leaned.

She shifted to support your weight better—one hand sliding lower, firm against your hip, the other staying pressed between your shoulder blades. You felt how easily she held you, like gravity didn’t apply when she was the one carrying you.

You were trembling.

“I hate how weak I feel,” you muttered against her shoulder.

Sevika’s voice dropped lower, like a growl wrapped in silk.

“You’re not weak. You’re alive. And they did everything they could to change that.”

You gripped her tighter.

Her nose brushed your temple.

“Just a few steps,” she said. “Just to remember what it feels like.”

You nodded.

Together, you took one.

Then another.

She walked backward, letting you guide the pace, her eyes never leaving your face. You were trembling with every step, sweat beading again at your temple—but she never loosened her hold.

After the fifth step, you faltered.

She caught you.

Scooped you back into her arms like it was nothing.

You buried your face in her neck, panting softly, ashamed.

But all she said was, “You did good, princess.”

You let her carry you back to the bed.

And this time, when she laid you down, you reached for her hand first.

You woke slowly, your body still heavy, but not with pain this time.

Just warmth.

The fire had burned down to glowing coals, and soft light was creeping through the curtains. The scent of lavender and iron lingered in the air—familiar now, somehow. Comforting. Claimed.

You shifted beneath the covers and immediately felt it.

Presence.

Someone was there.

You sat up with a gasp, your hand flying to the bracelet on your wrist—instinctive, like it might save you.

A figure stood at the foot of the bed.

A young woman.

Dressed in layered grey silk, her hair pinned back in neat coils, her hands holding something carefully folded over one arm.

Clothes.

She didn’t move, didn’t speak.

Just smiled.

And that’s when you saw them.

Fangs.

Small and delicate, barely peeking from behind her lips.

You went still.

Frozen.

“I’m not going to hurt you, my lady,” she said softly. Her voice was smooth and quiet, like a song sung from far away. “Sevika sent me. She thought you might like to wear something of your choosing. Something more fitting.”

You swallowed.

Your voice was hoarse. “You’re—one of them.”

Her smile didn’t fade.

“I’m in her service. Which means I’m in yours, now.”

You stared at her, lips parted, unsure whether to move or scream.

She stepped forward slowly, her tone light and calm.

“You needn’t be afraid. We don’t touch Sevika’s claim.”

Your breath hitched.

She knelt at the edge of the bed and unfolded the dress in her arms. Deep black velvet. Gothic embroidery along the bodice. Silver buttons, long trailing sleeves, a corseted waist. Regal. Dark. Absolutely forbidden.

“I had to guess your size,” she said, looking up at you with soft amusement.

You flushed.

Still silent.

“I can help you dress, if you like.”

You hesitated.

Then—slowly—you nodded.

The servant moved carefully, delicately—like a handler coaxing a half-wild animal. She slipped the nightgown off your shoulders with no hesitation, but no cruelty either. Just quiet efficiency.

“Arms up,” she murmured, helping guide the heavy dress over your head, adjusting the sleeves, tightening the laces. Her hands were cold. You didn’t flinch.

Once it was on, she took a step back, surveying her work with satisfaction.

The velvet hugged your waist. The long skirt brushed the floor. The neckline dipped slightly, enough to feel daring. The sleeves draped over your hands. The whole thing was ancient and decadent and wrong for someone like you.

The servant gave a final gentle tug at the waist before stepping back, hands smoothing the fabric down the curve of your skirt.

“There,” she said softly, her eyes catching the firelight as they roamed over you with quiet approval. “You wear it well.”

You glanced at her, unsure how to respond.

She tilted her head.

“You’re a little shorter than I expected.”

You flushed, eyes dropping to the hem of the gown as it pooled just slightly too long over your feet.

“I can adjust it next time,” she added quickly. “But the fit is perfect.”

You murmured something like a thank you, even though it came out smaller than you meant. You were still sore. Still stiff. But somehow… being wrapped in velvet made it easier to stand.

She stepped toward the door and opened it with a quiet click.

“This way.”

You followed.

The hallway outside was long and dim, lit only by wall sconces burning with cold, bluish flames. The stone beneath your bare feet was warm, not chilled like you expected. The walls were hung with tapestries you couldn’t quite focus on—too many eyes, too much motion woven into the fabric.

You trailed the servant slowly, your hand brushing the wall now and then for balance. Every step echoed, but not loudly—more like the manor welcomed it. Like it recognized you now.

As you passed a tall window, you caught your reflection in the glass.

The black dress clung to your curves in ways no royal gown ever had permission to. The bodice hugged your chest, the corset pulling in just enough to shape you without erasing you. The sleeves framed your arms in lace. You looked… different. Older. Wilder.

You looked like you belonged here.

Down one hallway, you heard whispers.

“…don’t like that she’s awake already…”

“…told you the bond would change her…”

“…Sevika won’t let anyone else touch her now…”

The servant didn’t pause.

Neither did you.

But your heart beat harder.

At the base of the grand stairs, two more figures appeared—one leaning against the banister, arms crossed, eyes gleaming with amused recognition. Pink hair. Violet. The other standing near a velvet-curtained arch, regal and stiff as ever. Caitlyn.

Violet gave a low whistle when she saw you.

“Well, don’t you look like a walking sin.”

You froze.

Caitlyn didn’t smile. But she gave you a small nod.

“She’s waiting,” she said. “Upstairs.”

Your voice caught.

“Who?”

But you already knew.

The servant reached out and gently touched your hand.

“I’ll take you the rest of the way.”

You climbed the stairs, your skirts brushing the stone, your pulse racing louder with each step. Every corner of the manor seemed to breathe as you passed, like the walls were watching. Whispering.

And when you reached the landing, at the end of the hall—

A door was open.

Sevika stood just inside.

Her back was to you. One hand braced against the window frame, her shoulders tense beneath a linen shirt unlaced at the collar, the light pouring in around her making her look like something carved from dusk.

She turned at the sound of your footsteps.

And when her eyes landed on you—

They flared.

Red and molten and hungry.

“Come here,” she said.

Her voice was low. Commanding.

You stepped inside.

And the door swung shut behind you.

Her eyes devoured you.

The moment the door closed, she moved—slow, deliberate steps that felt more like a tide pulling you in than footsteps. You stood still, breath catching in your throat as she reached you, as her hands slid around your waist like she’d been thinking about it since the second she left.

The velvet of your dress creaked softly under her grip.

“Gods,” she murmured. “Look at you.”

Her nose brushed your temple. One hand slid from your waist to your lower back, pulling you flush to her body. The other dragged up your spine, her gloved thumb teasing along the edge of your corset laces, as if she wanted to undo everything just to touch your skin.

You gasped as her lips grazed your cheek, then lower, her mouth catching just beneath your jaw.

“I missed you,” she breathed.

You barely heard her. Your head was spinning, heart caught between heat and panic.

“Sevika—”

Her mouth moved to your throat, pressing a slow, open kiss over your pulse.

“Sevika.”

She growled softly—frustrated, needy.

Your hands came up, pressing against her chest to create space, though your fingers trembled from the weight of her heat.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice smaller than you intended. “Everyone keeps looking at me like I’m… like I’m something else. Like I don’t belong to me anymore.”

She sighed against your skin.

Reluctantly, she pulled back—just enough to see your face.

“You don’t belong to them,” she muttered.

“That’s not an answer.”

Her jaw tensed. She dragged a hand down her face, stepping back fully now, pacing once toward the window before turning to look at you again.

“There’s going to be another gathering tonight,” she said. “A ball. One of ours. Vampires only.”

You swallowed. “Why?”

“They want to see you.”

Your chest tightened.

“You mean judge me.”

Sevika didn’t deny it.

She crossed her arms, gaze flicking over your body again—lingering at the dip of your waist, the fullness of your hips beneath velvet and lace. Her mouth twitched like she was trying to smother a smile. Or maybe something darker.

“They want to see if I’ve changed.” She said it low, bitter. “If I’ve gone soft. If my heir is worth anything at all.”

You blinked.

“Heir?”

Sevika’s expression twitched. Like she hadn’t meant to say that.

But she didn’t take it back.

There was a long silence. You shifted slightly, your fingers curling in your skirt.

“I’m not ready,” you whispered. “I don’t even know what I am.”

Sevika stepped forward again. Slower this time. Her hand found your chin, tilting your face up toward hers.

“I know you’re scared,” she murmured. “And they’ll look. They’ll whisper. They’ll wonder what I see in you.”

Your eyes burned.

“Then why take me?”

She brushed her thumb along your cheek, her voice lower now. Hungrier.

“Because I want them to see.”

You stared at her.

“I want them to see who I chose. Who was promised. Who wears my blood better than any of them ever could.”

Her hand slid down, palm resting over your stomach, her fingers splaying wide across your waist.

“I want them to envy me.”

You exhaled, shaky and flushed and aching.

And for a moment… you forgot you were scared at all.

“y/n!”

Jinx’s voice rang down the stone corridor like a bell cracked in half—sharp, exasperated, almost sing-song in its panic.

“You’re gonna get us killed!”

Ekko came skidding after her, breathless, hand braced on the wall. “I told you not to let her turn that corner!”

“You told me?” Jinx spun on him, wild pink braids flying. “You were the one who said ‘she’s probably just in the library!’ Guess what, nerd? She was not.”

Ekko groaned, bending forward, hands on his knees. “I need… like… three minutes. Or a resurrection.”

“She was right behind me one second ago! Where the hell did she—”

And then Jinx turned.

And stopped.

Because there, in the middle of the grand antechamber just outside the council meeting room—dressed once again in trailing velvet and lace, eyes wide and cheeks flushed—stood you.

Clinging to Sevika’s side.

Like you’d always belonged there.

Sevika stood tall and tense in the middle of the room, surrounded by other vampires cloaked in shadow and silk. They’d all gone silent the moment you burst in—half in fascination, half in amusement. One of them even laughed softly, low and cruel.

But Sevika wasn’t amused.

She had one arm half-around you, steadying you with a hand on your waist, her other clenched tight at her side.

Your cheek was pressed to her arm. You weren’t even looking at anyone else. Not Jinx. Not Ekko. Not the sharp-eyed nobles circling her like wolves.

Only her.

Only Sevika.

She exhaled slowly through her nose.

“Explain,” she said without looking at either of them.

Jinx cleared her throat, stepping forward like a child called to the headmistress.

“So. Funny story—”

“Now.”

Ekko groaned again, finally catching up.

“She’s fast, alright?” he huffed. “We blinked and she was gone. Bond’s screwing with her senses. She probably felt you in here and—”

“She can’t be here.”

Your eyes flinched at her tone.

You leaned in tighter.

Sevika closed her eyes for a second.

A vampire across the table chuckled. “Looks like someone’s little pet’s already housebroken.”

Sevika’s head snapped up. Her glare was sharp enough to bleed.

The laughter stopped instantly.

You didn’t move from her side.

Her hand tightened around your waist.

“She’s not a pet,” she said coldly. “She’s mine.”

Another silence.

Jinx shifted awkwardly by the door.

Ekko mouthed we’re dead behind her back.

Finally, Sevika turned her eyes down to you, her jaw tight.

“Little thing,” she murmured, voice barely audible beneath the tension. “You can’t just run off. This place isn’t safe. Not for you.”

“I felt you,” you whispered, your voice childlike with need. “It hurt. I just—I had to—”

Sevika’s expression twitched.

Something in her chest cracked open for a second.

And she sighed.

“Jinx,” she said, still looking at you, brushing your cheek with her knuckles. “If she gets out of your sight again—”

“I know,” Jinx muttered. “Chain her to the fireplace. Got it.”

“I was going to say ‘call for me,’” Sevika said, dry, “but sure. Try the fireplace. Let’s see how long you stay alive.”

You blinked up at her, tugging gently on her sleeve.

“Are you done yet?”

She almost smiled.

Almost.

Her hand slid up to cup the back of your head, her voice lowering.

“Not yet, princess. But soon.”

You nodded.

And let her go, even though it felt wrong.

Even though the pull in your chest said stay.

Sevika watched you the whole way back down the hall, until the heavy doors shut between you.

And the moment they did—

She turned to the others like death itself had walked in behind her.

Let them whisper.

Let them mock.

You were hers now.

And they’d see soon enough what that meant.

comment to be added to the taglist! @h2pinky @lanternfeather @ofalcaodacolinablue @mommyissuesismypersonality @wistfulrainstorm @sevikas-whore @dut1fuldyk3 @redroomgraduate @kittyk-14

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers

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auxmodi · 6 months ago

Note

Can you write a one-shot about Jon Snow set in season 8 or afterward, where the reader is a Targaryen and a relative of Daenerys? Make it fluffy and slow burn, please, with some smut!! I love the ones you've written, especially the Jon headcanon! I'm crying because there are barely any fanfics about him 😩

yESS ANON!!! i hear you loud and clear, its set before ep3 s8, sorry if its too long oops (not really sorry)

summary: a targaryen in winterfell, you’re no stranger to war. but when jon snow’s quiet intensity pulls you in, the tension between you both becomes impossible to ignore. tomorrow, the world might fall apart, but for tonight? you’re his. SMUT AT THE END

word count: 2.7k

tags: smut, p in v, needy sex, unspoken tension, battle/war feels, wholesome interactions

the northern winds howled through winterfell, relentless and biting, a constant reminder that the north was a land apart. inside the great hall, the fire crackled and the warmth of the hearth couldn’t quite chase away the chill that seeped into your bones. you’d been here long enough now, a targaryen among wolves, but it still felt like winterfell was trying to remind you that you didn’t belong.

still, you made yourself useful. you weren’t like daenerys, all fire and commands. you’d grown up on the edges of war, your hands more comfortable around a blade than a scepter. you fought, trained, strategized. it’s what earned you some begrudging respect from the northerners. even sansa, sharp as the frost on the castle walls, had softened toward you. she’d become an unexpected ally, her wit and your determination meshing in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

tonight, she sat across from you at the long table, quill in hand as she reviewed plans and lists. you worked on your sword, sharpening the blade with steady movements. the quiet between you was companionable, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire.

“do you ever rest?” she asked, her voice soft but teasing.

you smirked, not looking up. “rest won’t help me when the night king gets here. a sharp sword might.”

she rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “you and jon are more alike than i realized.”

at the mention of his name, your stomach did this annoying little flip. you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “jon is… focused. he’s a good leader.”

before she could respond, her gaze shifted past you. “speaking of jon...”

you turned your head slightly and saw jon standing near the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on you. he didn’t look away when you caught him, just gave a small nod before returning to his conversation with davos. your stomach twisted, though you weren’t sure if it was nerves or… something else.

“he’s always watching you,” sansa murmured, her tone light but her expression curious.

“shut up,” you muttered, focusing back on your blade. but your fingers faltered, the steady rhythm of your sharpening disrupted.

jon was always there. not in an obvious way, he wasn’t the type for grand gestures or attention. but you’d notice him lingering on the edges of your vision, a glance in the training yard, a quiet nod in the strategy room. it was infuriatingly subtle, and yet you felt it every time.

one evening, you found yourself in the godswood, seeking a moment of peace. the red leaves of the weirwood swayed gently in the wind, their whispers lost in the frost-bitten air. you leaned against the trunk, your breath visible in the cold, when the sound of boots crunching on snow caught your attention.

“out here alone?” jon said, stepping into view. his voice was low, like he didn’t want to disturb the quiet of the godswood.

“yeah” you replied. “just… thinking.”

jon’s eyes softened slightly as he stepped closer, his breath visible in the cold air. he looked at you for a moment, then at the weirwood, as if trying to understand your thoughts. "the dead?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"everything," you said honestly, your tone heavier now. "the dead. The living. what it’ll mean when it’s over... if we’re still here to see it."

his jaw tightened, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his face. “we’ll see it.”

“you sound certain,” you said, glancing at him.

“i have to be,” he replied. his eyes met yours then, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. the weight of his gaze was heavy but not unwelcome. it was grounding, in a way.

days blurred together, preparations for battle consuming your every moment. jon’s presence became something constant, even when he didn’t speak. you found yourself looking for him in the chaos, your eyes scanning for him like instinct.

one night, after a particularly grueling day, you found yourself in the library. it was empty save for a few flickering candles, the air thick with the scent of old parchment. you sat at a table, a book on northern battle tactics open in front of you, though you weren’t really reading it.

the door creaked open, and you glanced up to see jon stepping inside. his hair was messier than usual, and the shadows under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights.

“can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice breaking the quiet.

he shook his head, moving to sit across from you. “mind won’t rest.”

“join the club,” you said, gesturing to the book. “i thought this might bore me to sleep, but no luck.”

his lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him in days. “you’re too stubborn to let it.”

“same to you” you shot back, earning a soft huff of laughter from him. the sound was rare, and you found yourself wanting to hear it again.

for a while, the two of you sat in companionable silence. it wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. jon’s presence was steady, like the calm before a storm. eventually, he broke the silence.

“do you miss it?” he asked, his voice low. “the south?”

you thought about it. dragonstone, the endless sea, the warmth of the sun on your skin. but the memories felt distant, like they belonged to someone else. “sometimes,” you admitted. “but not as much as i thought i would.”

he nodded, his dark eyes studying you. “the north suits you.”

“does it?” you teased, though your voice came out softer than you intended.

“it does,” he said simply, his gaze steady. there was no teasing in his tone, just quiet certainty.

you stood on the battlements, the cold biting through your cloak, but it wasn’t the cold you were feeling. it was everything else, the soldiers, the coming battle, the weight of it all. and then, as always, jon’s presence behind you. quiet, steady.

"it won't be easy" he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

you didn’t answer right away, there was nothing to say, you both knew what was coming. it wasn’t about words anymore.

finally, you turned slightly, enough to catch the moonlight on his face. his jaw was set, his eyes dark, already on the battlefield in his mind. you didn’t know when you’d started to understand him so well, but you did, better than anyone else here and it made everything feel heavier.

“is anything easy?” you finally mutter, your voice quieter than you meant it to be. it’s bitter, but you can’t stop it. you don’t know how to soften the truth right now.

his eyes meet yours, and it’s like the air shifts, just for a second. something unsaid hangs between you, heavy and unspoken. raw. vulnerable. you want to look away, but you don’t.

then, without warning, his hand brushed against yours. just a touch, a test. but it sent something through you, something sharp, undeniable. you froze, your heart racing, as if the world had paused for just a second.

his hand lingers, just for a second, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. but you don’t. you stay there, your fingers brushing together, and for the briefest moment, you wonder if he feels it too, the weight of it. the way something inside you shifts at the simple act of contact.

“stay close tomorrow,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, like he’s afraid of the words. but they’re out there now, hanging in the air between you, and you both know the unspoken truth. he needs you. and maybe you need him, too.

you don’t say anything at first. but then, almost without thinking, the word slips out. “always.”

it’s too soft. too quiet. but it’s the only thing you can give him right now. a promise, but still, yours.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he steps back, his gaze lingering for a second longer, like he’s searching for something in your eyes. and then, he’s gone, disappearing into the shadows of the castle, leaving you standing there, your heart still pounding in your chest.

the promise you made hangs heavy in the air, and even though your feet are rooted to the ground, your mind races. tomorrow, you know, everything changes. but for now, it’s the quiet before the storm.

you make your way back to your chambers, the chill of the stone grounding you. your thoughts keep drifting to jon. his eyes, the heat of his touch, the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

just as you’re about to close the door behind you, you hear it: a soft knock. you freeze, hand still on the knob

you turn the handle, open the door a crack. it’s jon, his silhouette stands there, dark against the dim hallway light. his eyes meet yours, full of something raw, desperate, something you can’t escape.

“couldn’t sleep,” he says, voice low and strained, like he’s holding back.

you nod, too overwhelmed for words, the quiet between you both heavy, full of anticipation.

he steps closer, just enough for you to feel the heat of his body. you don’t pull away. you don’t want to. you aren’t sure if this is really happening, or if you’ve imagined the way he’s looking at you, like you’re all that matters.

his hand brushes yours, the spark between you instant, impossible to ignore. the air thickens with tension, electric and suffocating, but it feels right. your breath catches.

“jon,” you whisper, like saying his name is the only thing that matters now.

he steps closer, no words needed. his hand cups your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. you wonder how you ever survived this long without him touching you like this.

before you can think, his lips are on yours, urgent, needy, like he’s been holding back forever. you gasp, but he deepens the kiss, pulling you close, his hands finding their way to your waist, drawing you toward him.

you let yourself melt into him, your hands sliding over his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his tunic, you could feel the way his body reacted, the way his breath hitched every time you touched him.

you wanted him, now, but you didn’t say it out loud. instead, you let your fingers trace the edge of his tunic, pulling it from his body with the slow urgency of someone who couldn’t wait anymore, but wanted to savor every second of it.

you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, breathless, caught in this moment. “tomorrow,” you say, your voice soft, “it could change everything, we could…”

he stops you with another kiss, silencing your words. when he pulls back, his eyes are fierce but soft, vulnerable. “tomorrow doesn’t matter,” he murmurs. “not right now, just this, just us.”

his hands grip your waist, pulling you back to him, and in that moment, everything else fades. the war, the fear, the promises of the future, none of it mattered as your lips crashed together.

jon’s hands followed the movement of yours, pushing your nightgown off your shoulders, leaving your skin bare beneath his touch. his lips trailed down your neck, and you shivered at the feel of him, the heat of his breath against your skin.

when he finally got the gown off, exposing you completely to him, his breath hitched, and for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark, filled with something primal.

his fingers grazed the curve of your waist, your hips, his touch light but leaving a trail of heat behind. when his hands brushed your breasts, his thumb running over your nipple, you couldn’t help but gasp, the feeling radiating through you like lightning. jon froze for a second, eyes wide, like he couldn’t believe he had made you react that way.

"gods," he muttered, voice rough as he traced the curve of your body with his eyes. "you're beautiful."

before you could respond, he was pushing you backward, guiding you toward the table. you caught the edge with your hands, the cool wood contrasting with the heat building between you.

jon’s hands slid down to your hips as he bent you over the table. the position made your pulse quicken, a thrill running through you at the sheer dominance in his actions.

his hands pressed against your back, bending you slightly as he took a moment to adjust his position.

you felt him shift behind you, heard the rustling of fabric as he finally freed himself from his trousers. his cock suddenly pressed against you, teasing, making your breath catch.

“shit,” you whisper, your hands gripping the edge of the table in front of you as you feel the tip of his cock press rub against your entrance.

one hand gripped your hip, holding you in place, while the other found your shoulder, he entered you slowly, inch by inch, as if testing the waters, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the stretch, the fullness. jon groaned, a deep, guttural sound, his face tight with concentration.

“i've wanted you like this,” he muttered, his voice low, almost strained. “for so fucking long.”

you pushed back against him, urging him to move. his pace remained agonizingly slow, his thrusts deep, controlled, his hands holding you firmly in place.

with each slow stroke, your body grew tighter, more desperate, the tension in your stomach building until it felt like you might break. jon was relentless, his movements never wavering, only deepening as the seconds stretched out into eternity.

“fuck, jon,” you gasped, your body arching into him as your own hands gripped the edge of the table, nails digging into the wood. "f-faster." you could feel him pulse inside you, the friction driving you higher.

you’re both too fucking needy for this to be slow. his thrusts become harder, faster, each one more desperate than the last. the sound of skin on skin fills your chamber, and you can’t stop yourself from meeting every push, every pull, your body craving the release that’s building.

you can barely form a coherent sentence, the only thing you can do is hold onto the table, each thrust making you just forwards. everything is too much, but in the best way. "f-fuck" you gasp, "don’t stop."

he doesn’t stop. ofcourse he doesn’t.

“you’re killing me,” jon growls, his hand slides down your back, fingers digging into your skin, and you know he’s holding you there, keeping you in place for himself.

you don’t answer, can’t answer, just a breathless moan slips past your lips as you feel the first wave of your orgasm starting to crash over you, the way your body tightens around him, the way he’s fucking you through it.

"gods" he whimpers, the words barely making it past his lips as he forces you to take all of him.

his hands are tight on your hips, pulling you into him, every inch of him is buried deep, and you can feel him in places you didn’t even know existed, making you gasp with every move, every shift.

his breath was ragged now, his groans a constant hum in your ear as his rhythm faltered, his control slipping. “i can’t—gods, i can’t stop now.” his voice was strained, desperate, and you knew he was at the edge.

then, with a final, brutal thrust, he snapped. his whole body jerked above you, shaking as his release hit. you could feel the heat of his seed inside you, leaving you breathless and trembling beneath him.

you could feel the slickness between your legs, the evidence of what had just happened, and though it should have felt overwhelming, it only deepened the sense of connection between you two.

jon’s breath was steady against your neck, and after a moment, you heard him chuckle softly.

jon’s fingers traced light circles on your back as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “guess I was wrong then,” he teased, his lips curving into a smile. “the dragon’s not so bad after all.”

“just remember,” you added, your voice low as you turned your head to meet his gaze, “targaryens don’t take kindly to being underestimated.”

jon’s chuckled at your words, the corners of his mouth twitching with a hint of something close to respect. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

#jon snow x reader #jon snow smut #jon snow #game of thrones smut #game of thrones #jon snow x targaryen reader #house targaryen #got #got smut

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sunarryn · 3 months ago

Text

DP X Marvel #3

The thing about being seventeen and King of the Infinite Realms is that nobody prepares you for the paperwork.

Sure, Danny thought there’d be some responsibility when he accidentally overthrew Pariah Dark and inherited an ancient, eldritch realm full of undead beings and chaos entities. But this?

“This” being a five-hour council meeting about whether the Blob Ghost could legally marry the Ghost of a Haunted Taco Bell.

Danny slammed his forehead into the obsidian table, sighing. “Can someone remind me why this is my life again?”

Fright Knight, sitting to his left in full spectral armor, replied without missing a beat. “Because you claimed the Throne of The Infinite Realms by Rite of Spectral Conquest, my liege.”

“Right…” Danny muttered, dragging his crown—which looked less like a crown and more like an aggressive mass of bone, metal, and green flame—off his head and onto the table. “That. Cool. I love my life. I’m living my best afterlife.”

The Ghost Zone’s politics were a nightmare. The Council of Wailing Scepters argued in riddles. The Ministry of Temporal Loops wouldn’t stop trying to undo Danny’s birth “as a preventative measure.” Ember was unionizing musical ghosts. Skulker demanded hunting permits. Box Ghost somehow had diplomatic immunity.

And let’s not even talk about the Realms’ economy.

“Have you ever tried to make a tax code for entities who don’t obey time?” Clockwork once asked with a deadpan stare.

Danny had not. Danny did not want to.

And all of that was on top of being a superhero, a public figure, a full-time student at Midtown, Tony Stark’s ghost consultant intern, and, most critically, Peter Parker’s boyfriend.

The one bright spot in his entire liminal, half-dead, legally dubious existence.

Peter was the only reason Danny hadn’t exploded yet. Or accidentally declared war on Canada (long story, don’t ask). Or gotten exorcised by a rogue Vatican unit (longer story).

When Danny phased into his boyfriend’s bedroom at 2:43AM wearing royal armor, covered in ghost slime, with a ghost octopus clinging to his leg screaming, “LONG LIVE THE GHOST KING,” Peter didn’t even blink.

He just put his book down and said, “Do you want hot chocolate or a sedative?”

“Both.” Danny croaked.

“Got you.” Peter said, already moving toward the mini kitchen.

Danny melted into the couch, dropping his crown on the floor. It rolled slightly, then hissed at the furniture. He kicked it under the table.

“I hate everyone.” He muttered. “The fire ghosts are trying to annex the Library of Screams again, the Spectral Senate is debating if time travelers have souls, and a councilwoman called me a fleshling with trauma issues.”

“Well,” Peter called out gently from the kitchen, “she’s not wrong.”

“Peter.”

“I’m just saying. You did try to punch Death last week.”

Danny groaned. “It was a misunderstanding!”

“You called them a dusty crypt bitch.”

“They insulted my hoodie!”

Peter returned, holding two mugs. He handed one to Danny, kissed his forehead, then sat beside him.

Danny leaned heavily against him.

Peter didn’t complain.

“Y’know,” Danny said after a moment, sipping his cocoa, “sometimes I forget I’m still seventeen.”

Peter chuckled. “Babe. You’re seventeen, King of a spectral empire, on the Avengers’ emergency contact list, and still get detention for being late to gym. You’re living like six lives at once.”

“I died once,” Danny muttered. “That should’ve been enough.”

Between ghost attacks, council drama, interdimensional skirmishes, and Midtown High exams, Danny hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since… well, since before dying.

The living world had opinions too. America couldn’t decide if he should be considered a minor, a sovereign leader, or a health hazard. International ghost regulations were passed in his name. He had diplomatic immunity in over a human countries and was banned from a hundred others. There was a conspiracy subreddit entirely dedicated to the theory that he was an alien hybrid bred by the government to replace the Queen of England.

Danny’s response to that was, “Do I look like I want to colonize anything?”

He still had math homework due tomorrow.

Sometimes he phased into the UN to yell at their Interdimensional Defense Committee. Sometimes he missed bio class because a ghost war broke out on the edge of the Dreaming Isles and he had to teleport to stop Nocturne from invading people’s nightmares.

Sometimes, Peter would find him sitting on the floor of their shared dorm shower, still glowing, muttering, “I am the King of Everything and Nothing and I can’t figure out mitochondria.”

“I’ll tutor you,” Peter always offered. “And also get you a nap and a cookie.”

Peter was… everything.

Unflinchingly patient. Wickedly smart. Constantly worried.

He patched up Danny’s wounds, whispered jokes during council meetings when Danny looked five seconds from screaming, brought extra snacks when Danny forgot to eat.

He held Danny after Danny woke up screaming from ghost-fueled nightmares.

And when the burden got too heavy—when Danny stood on the balcony of his palace in the Infinite Realms, overlooking a kingdom of madness and memory, time fractals and ghosts whispering in languages lost to the living—and said, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Peter kissed his knuckles and said, “Then I’ll do it with you.”

The other ghosts hated it.

A human, dating the King? Scandalous. Blasphemous. Soft.

Danny told them all to choke.

Peter? Peter told them to submit a formal complaint in triplicate and then kissed Danny in front of them just to be petty.

They ruled together, in a way. Danny signed the decrees. Peter corrected the grammar. Danny banished tyrants. Peter took notes and organized his calendar. Danny fought for peace. Peter made sure he didn’t forget who he was fighting for.

Once, Clockwork pulled Peter aside and said, “He will burn out without you.”

Peter just nodded. “I know.”

And yet, through all the madness, they found joy.

Danny giving Peter flying lessons. Peter webbing Danny’s locker shut as a prank. The two of them building a spectral stabilizer out of Tony’s spare tech, laughing hysterically when it turned the floor into a trampoline.

They shared ghost patrols, movie nights, star-watching on top of the Empire State Building.

Peter calling Danny “Your Majesty” in a ridiculous accent until Danny threatened to drop him into a lava lake.

Danny threatening international leaders by day and then cuddling with Peter by night, wearing fuzzy socks and a hoodie that said “Half-Dead, Fully Tired.”

Sometimes, Danny just stared at him. In awe.

Peter, who knew the truth. All of it. The weight. The loss. The terrifying power clawing beneath Danny’s skin. The fact that Danny was the anchor between dimensions, balancing the afterlife and reality like a tired high schooler with PTSD and ghost fire.

And still loved him.

Still said, “You’re doing great.”

Still held him when it all came crashing down.

The Realms called Danny a King.

To Peter, he was just Danny.

Sometimes, that was all Danny needed to be okay.

Just… Danny. Human. Ghost. Hero. Boyfriend.

King of the Infinite Realms, sure. But also a seventeen-year-old who just wanted to pass his math test, kiss his boyfriend, and maybe get five hours of sleep.

With Peter by his side?

He could do it all.

Even the haunted Taco Bell marriage negotiations.

#danny phantom #danny phantom fandom #danny phantom fanfiction #danny fenton #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #spider man #spiderman #dp x marvel #marvel mcu #marvel #mcu fanfiction #mcu #mcu fandom

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dumbgoondog · 1 month ago

Text

The Biiiiiiiig Stretch(p1)

Cw/Tw— size diff, Stomach Bulge, unprotected p in v, degradation, bruising, cream pie, double penetration, crying, anal

Tags— GN!AFAB!Reader, pre-established relationship, Sukuna whimpers at some point

Ft. Sukuna x1 and then taking both

Prep, lube, all you’ll need is determination now!

RYOMEN SUKUNA [13in, 5.8in] 2k wc

“Pet, what the fuck are you doing,” Sukuna asks an eye lazily looking down to you past the book he’s reading. You on the other hand are trailing a finger on the dip of his hips. You’d been preparing and tonight would be the night you took claim to the throne and royal scepter.

“I want you.”

Sukuna closes his book slowly, closing his eyes, and sets it down. It took a lot in you not to laugh because he for certain thought you were surely jesting. When his eyes opened again however, and saw the look of determination on your face?

“It will not fit, you are too small. Your torso is about three feet I will take up a third of that,”

“I know,”

“Clearly you don’t,”

“But I do!”

“No,”

“Let me try!”

“No.”

“Please?”

… “No.”

You give him such big loving eyes, fluttering your lashes and pouting your bottom lip like a shelf for him to set his resign onto. Finally he sighs, “Fine. If you hurt yourself on it though, I’m pulling you off and we’re cuddling to bed. Understood?”

You’re up, giddy, grabbing the lube—he’s shaking his head and pulling open his robes. You sling off your own clothes and hop up to straddle him spitting the cold liquid onto your hand, the other massaging his thigh. He’s watching you—brow raised with amusement, expecting you not to succeed but he’s not upset.

You start to stroke his cock, your hand wrapping around the thick shaft, feeling the velvety smooth skin beneath your fingers. You hear Sukuna's sharp intake of breath, and it encourages you to continue. You lean in, your tongue flicking out to lick the sensitive tip, tasting the salty precum that beads at the top. Sukuna lets out a low growl, a hand tangling in your hair, urging you on.

You take your time however, exploring every inch of his cock with your tongue, licking and teasing, swirling your tongue around the head, and then taking his tip in your mouth, sucking gently as you bob your head up and down. Sukuna's grip on your hair tightens, and he lets out a pleased growl.

Pulling back, you look up at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. With lube in your hand you begin stroking it onto his cock, making it glisten and shine. slow—deliberate strokes, your hand moving from the base to the tip, spreading the lube in a pretty sheen. As he often does, his gaze is flirting with you, tracing your shape, watching your hands, your shadow— all of you but not you. You know it’s from him wanting to simply take in everything but sometime you’ll have to tell him to pay attention, and pull his reigns.

You lean in again, your tongue tracing the veins on his cock, licking up the lube, even if it’s a bit bitter. You can feel his body tensing, his breathing becoming more ragged—great self control from the behemoth of a man who does deeply just wish to fuck into you like an animal.

“Well? Now you’ve excited your king, come show him your devotion hmm? Offer a temple for him to take pleasure in,” Sukuna rumbles like a dangerous purr, taunting and pushing you to keep going.

“As you wish, my lord.”

You sit up and scoot forward, squeezing lube onto yourself now. Sure you’re already dripping and weeping from your hole—aching for that monster to be in you, but more lube never hurts!

You aim the tip, to spear into you like he’s going to hunt his prize. Hips now rolling a slow circle feeling his angry tip prodding and eager for you. How could you deny such a desperate display?

Sukuna’s hands grip onto the bed, teeth bearing—your plush lips kissing down sucking him into gummy walls that squeeze and hug. You gasp trembling—you’d been sizing up with toys, but no one is ever ready for the real deal. Sukuna’s chest is puffing his gaze dropping to watch the pretty syrup dripping from you around his length.

“F-fuck, you- haaah yeah that’s it,” his groans of praise are the cheer squad for you, and you can hear his breathing hitch more with your own as you push down fully onto his tip, “ngh-! Shit, you uh- still good?”

You nod, panting—words would break concentration, you take a second feeling the sting, feeling the heartbeat. You can’t see the first ring beneath the crown anymore, just the finish line tattoo at his base. You shudder, walls flexing garnering another pleased sound—then it hits you.

He’s holding back noises! You bet you can get him to whimper. Just keep going~

So you do.

Pushing on more, another inch burying into your heat, the squish of your cunt trying to milk him already. Sukuna’s nails have torn the sheets, he’s watching your chest breathe, your cunt pulling him in, the way your mouth hangs with each gasp—you sink further giving a whine and you hear him.

“Mmph- a-ah fuck- shit!”

A hand is trying to cover his mouth to muffle and you smile deviously. Another inch slipping him deeper into your gooey goodness. The way his brow pulls and eyes shut is everything.

You keep pushing on, feeling the sting, the stretch—every vein a tug that you pull back to take him in more from. You lift back to the tip and there’s the honey you’re dreaming of—

“Mng- no please- put it back in-“

God.

Good gracious god above—more like beneath you now though.

He’s sweating bullets, each drop tracing his muscles like a painter’s brush is devoted to details. Each a diamond in the night—a treasure of pleasure. Sukuna’s eyes all pulled in, practically hearts—looking at you.

Fuck it, you need him. Your slick cunt drenched in pretty honeyed syrup sucks him back in greedily and with more ease than you thought you could—more than he thought too.

“Gah- fuckin hell- so tight-!”

You smile.

You roll your hips a little to tease, shaking to keep yourself up. He’s trembling. You push down and usher in the heaven of him.

Your gummy walls grip, squeeze, milk, and flutter getting closer and closer to that finish line and both of you are wrecks now. His head is thrown back, stomach mouth drooling—tongue hanging like a dog.

PLAP.

Hips to hips, thighs pressing to the plush of your ass, your lips kissing his base. The sticky slick dripping down his balls, down your thighs, the drool from both of you. Sukuna moves a hand shakily to your waist gripping it tight to leave roses to blossom under your skin.

“Don’t move.”

You weren’t planning to yet but you let him just revel in the pleasure, catch his breath, his head still tossed back. You look down eyes widening and squeezing in a smile, shivers dancing up your spine. There’s a pretty decent bulge in your lower stomach pushing out.

“My- my lord look~”

He holds a hand to your mouth and you nearly snap at him but he cuts you off, “I stand at the edge, the gates of heaven Dane to flood me should you speak or move. I want to savor you.”

That’s all you need before smiling and relaxing—savoring it yourself.

You both stay like that for a moment, immobilized in a mix of pleasure and anticipation. Sukuna's grip on your waist tightens, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggles to maintain control. You can feel every inch of him pulsing inside you, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Sukuna manages to growl out, his voice strained with effort. "So tight and wet for me."

You lean down, your forehead resting against his, your breath mixing as you both pant heavily. "And you feel massive inside me," you whisper back, your voice shaky with desire. "I can feel every inch of you stretching me."

Sukuna's eyes flare with possession and lust. "You were made for me, weren't you? Every inch of you is perfect."

You start to move, slowly at first, lifting your hips slightly before sinking back down. The motion sends shocks of pleasure through both of you, and Sukuna's grip on your waist flexes.

"Fuck, yes," he hisses. "Ride me, pet. Show me how much you want it."

You pick up the pace, your hips rolling and grinding as you take him deeper and deeper. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure—your moans, his growls, the wet slapping of your bodies coming together. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as you chase the release.

Sukuna's hands move to your hips, guiding your movements, urging you on. "That's it, pet. Take it all. You're so fucking beautiful like this."

You lean back, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage, giving him a full view of your body as you ride him. His eyes roam over you, taking in every inch, every curve. "Fuck, you're perfect," he growls. "I could watch you all day."

You smile, a wicked glint in your eye. "Then watch me come undone by you."

You increase your pace, your body slamming down onto his as you chase your release. Sukuna's breathing becomes more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of pain. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunts. "You feel too good."

"Cum inside," you gasp out, your body tensing as your orgasm builds. "Fill me, Sukuna. I want to feel it."

His response is a guttural growl, his hips bucking up to meet yours as he chases his own release. "Fuck, yes. I'm going to fill you up. Mark you as mine."

With a final, desperate thrust, you send both of you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your body clenching around him as waves of pleasure consume you. Sukuna's grip on your hips becomes bruising as he holds you down, his own release following close behind.

You feel yourself squeeze and gush the cold rush the white dancing across your vision. Your poor pussy squeezing as much as it can but it can’t past all the meat filling it. You’re shaking still feeling yourself coming undone your cunt fluttering and squirting around him unable to keep it in.

"Fuck!" he howls, his body tensing as he spills into you—hot bursts of thick creamy ropes painting your insides to be a winter wonderland, "So f-fucking good."

You collapse forward, your body spent and sated, your forehead resting against his chest as you both struggle to catch your breath. Sukuna's arms wrap around you—all four—holding you close as he places soft, gentle kisses on your sweat-slicked skin.

"Mine," he murmurs, his voice a low, possessive growl. "You're all mine."

You smile, a content sigh escaping your lips as you melt into his embrace, knowing that you've claimed your throne and your king.

"Yours," you whisper back, your voice filled with love and devotion. "Always yours."

His hand comes up to rub circles along the small of your back and his pants become a happy little hum. You trace your own circles on his thick broad chest returning the happy hum.

“How long did you prepare yourself for this pet?”

You giggle and look away, “uh- maybe over a week or twooo..?”

“Damn you wanted this bad huh? You whore,” he teases kissing the top of your head and you roll your eyes playfully smacking his chest.

“You’re so mean to me Kuna,” you whine pouting at him, but in truth you’re both smiling, and so very very in love with each other.

ROUND 2 —

Taking both [13in + 15in] 1.5k wc

Sukuna's strong hands grip your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he hikes you up, impaling you on his thick cock. Your back presses against the cool wall, the contrast to Sukuna's scorching body sending a shiver down your spine. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as he begins to move, his hips snapping forward with a force that steals your breath.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sukuna growls, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "So tight and wet for me."

You can only moan in response, your body stretched and filled, your nerves sparking with pleasure. Your thighs are spread wide, giving him complete control—And control he takes, his powerful body moving with a purpose, each thrust driving him deeper, harder.

The wall behind you provides little cushion, the impact of his body against yours pushing you into the solid surface. You can feel the pressure building, the pleasure coiling in your belly as Sukuna's cock hits that sweet spot inside you, again and again.

"K-kuna," you gasp, your voice a breathless plea. "Don't stop!”

And of course He doesn't. If anything, his pace increases, his body moving with a feral carnal need. Bullying his cock into your gummy pussy greedy for your cunt’s kisses to his base.

"I won't," he gravels. "I couldn't stop if I tried. You feel too fucking good."

Your body bounces with each powerful thrust, your breasts pressing against his chest, your clit grinding against him. That pretty ring of creamy white, sticky syrup stringing between your hips. You can feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as you climb higher and higher-!

Sukuna's breath is hot on your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he fucks you with abandon. "You close? Huh pet?" His hot breath claws along your skin. "Let me feel that pretty cunt milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, your body exploding with pleasure. You cry out, your voice echoing off the walls as your weeping cunt clenches around him, your orgasm ripping through you pulling tears from you.

Sukuna's grip on your thighs tightens, his body tensing as he chases his own release.

"Fuck, yeaah," he grunts. "Milk me. Take it all."

With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself deep inside you, his body shaking as he spills against your cervix in thick pumps. You can feel his hot cum coating your insides, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body begging another moan of his name from you.

He holds you there, pinned against the wall, his cock still buried deep inside you as he catches his breath. His forehead rests against yours, however tonight you have other plans.

You reach down, your hands trembling with anticipation as you grip his second cock, already hard and throbbing. You align it with your ass, taking a deep breath as you prepare to take both of Sukuna's massive cocks at once. He looks down at you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and concern.

"you sure about this?" Sukuna asks, his voice a low rumble. "One is enough, I don’t need both."

You look up at him, your eyes filled with determination and desire. "I'm sure, Kuna. I want to feel all of you. I want to take both of you at once."

Sukuna's grip on your thighs tightens, and he nods, swallowing. "Alright, but if it's too much, you tell me, and we stop."

You push back against him, feeling his second cock start to enter you. You moan, the sensation of being filled in both holes overwhelming. Sukuna groans, his head falling back as he tries to hold still, letting you set the pace.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he growls. "Doin such a good job."

You start to move, rocking your hips back and forth, taking more of him into your ass. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and slight pain as your body stretches to accommodate him. You can feel every inch of him, the veins, the heat, the press of feeling both in you at once.

Sukuna's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he starts to move with you, his hips stuttering forward to meet your movements. He groans leaning in kissing at you feverish and hungrily.

"More," you gasp, your voice breathless with need. "Give me more, Kuna. I can take it!”

He growls in response, his movements becoming more frenzied as he fucks you with abandon. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure—your moans, his growls, the wet slapping of your bodies coming together. You can feel your orgasm building again—your body tensing holes squeezing and fluttering.

Sukuna's breath is hot on your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he fucks you with wild abandon.

Your body a symphony of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as Sukuna's cocks bully into you. The dual invasion is overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and pain that sends your senses into overdrive. You can feel every ridge, every vein, every pulse of his cocks as they move in tandem, stretching you, owning you—tears dripping down your cheeks as you whimper.

"Kuna," you cry out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "You- ah- so deep. So fucking- big!”

He growls in response, his hands gripping your hips with a ferocity that will surely leave bruises. "You're taking me so well," he praises, his voice a low rumble. "Such a good pet, taking both my cocks like a champion."

Your body bounces with each powerful thrust, the impact of his body against yours pushing you into the wall with a force that steals your breath. The sensation of being filled to the brim, of being used and owned, sends you spiraling towards another orgasm.

"Kuna," you gasp, your voice a breathless plea. "I'm close. So close."

He leans in, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Then let go, pet. Cum for me. Show me how much you love me."

His words are your undoing. Your body explodes with pleasure, your orgasms ripping through you in waves. Your cunt and ass clench and squeeze him, your body convulsing as you scream his name, tears streaming down your face.

Sukuna's grip on your hips becomes bruising, his body tensing as he chases his own release. "Fuck, yes," he groans. "Take it all. Take every fucking drop."

You feel him twitch the stutter of his hips pumping up into you the break in his breathing. his body shakes as he spills his seed into both your holes. You can feel his hot cum coating your insides, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body, your muscles clenching and unclenching around him.

Now he’s slumped against your—body fully engulfing yours. You both are sweaty, steamy messes—breathless and spent. Finally he’s kissing your cheek murmuring, “that all okay? Still good? Still with me?”

You can only nod, your body too spent to do anything more. Your body is slick with sweat, your skin flushed, and your holes are overstuffed full of Sukuna's cocks, leaking his seed down your thighs.

"You did so good, pet," Sukuna murmurs, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. "So fucking good."

He slowly lowers you to the ground, his cocks sliding out of you, leaving you feeling empty and spent. He turns you around, pressing your front against the wall, his body covering yours from behind.

"Let me see that pretty ass and cunt," he demands, his voice a low growl. "See how well you took me."

He spreads your cheeks, looking at the mess he's made of you, and you can't help but feel a bit embarrassed being so spread. Sure you’re certainly so proud too but your legs are barely holding you up and you’re certainly a tragic mess down there-

"Such a good pet," he praises, his fingers tracing the mess of his cum leaking out of you. "I love this sight, seeing you fucked full to bursting."

He leans down, his tongue licking up the mess, cleaning you, tasting himself on you. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, your body too sensitive, too spent, but still craving all he had to offer you.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmurs against your skin. "So fucking perfect."

He stands up, his body pressing against yours, lifting you into his arms as he’s making long strides to the bathroom, “now let’s get you cleaned why don’t we? Uraume will make your favorite in the morning as well.”

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