#the eyes are the window to the soul

[dragongirl642]

The eyes are the windows to the soul (part 4 - final)

Masterlist

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It's the final part!!!!

I know it's been a while but I've been working on lots of things at the moment.

Be warned, this is a long post, you may want to get some tea and a snack before you strap in for the ride.

Trigger Warnings: Body horror, gore, stalking, yandere (ish) behavior.

-----------------Start------------------

All goes still and, if not for the gash on their forehead leaking red and the blood drenching their clothes, Not-Cameron looks exactly as they did when they left you earlier today.

Except for their eyes. Glowing silver and devouring black, staring at you with an unreadable emotion.

You don't move. While your brain tries to process what your seeing, fear and a tinge of confusion keep you rooted to the spot.

Not-Cameron stares.

Heavy silence blankets the hallway.

Not-Cameron remains crouched beside the body of your now-dead ex-boyfriend. Pupils dilating and shrinking, dilating and shrinking. Hands digging streaks into the carpet.

They don't look like they're going to move any time soon, so you take the opportunity to focus on the shaking in your limbs and the pounding of your heart.

You take one deep breath, slowly in, slowly out. Followed by another. And then another.

You count to 10 in your head.

Your heart starts to become less noisy. Your hands slowly unclench. The shaking slows.

Waiting.

After what feels like an age, Not-Cameron suddenly shifts. A whine bubbles up from their throat.

"I just wanted...why? Was it too much to ask." Their voice suddenly drops and distorts, the sound vibrates right down your spine.

Not-Cameron twitches, one still slightly-clawed hand reaching forward as they crawl a step torwards you. "______" Your name comes out in a distorted growl. "I thought this would work."

Another step closer.

"So many failures. So many faces. Why!? Why was his the only face you wanted."

You can't help shuffling a little back down the hallway. Your body reacting with natural fear to the uncanny valley effect sweeping over you from how their blank expression contradicts the distorted distress in their voice.

"I just wanted to love you. Now it's ruined." They appear to be spiraling, their hands have definitely sprung claws again.

It is with herculean effort that you stop your shuffle backwards and instead lean forward, speaking in an even calm tone. "Not-Cameron."

They freeze.

"That's what i've been calling you in my head." You take a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to meet their predatory gaze with your own. "Since you first arrived, seven months ago. I knew you weren't Cameron."

A deep vibration begins to echo in the hallway, one you recognise as a growl. Not-Cameron's face begins to twist into a grimace.

"I didn't care."

The sound stops as their eyes widen, impossibly. You can visibly see all their muscles tense under their skin.

You slowly raise a hand, bracing against the wall to stand. Their gaze follows you up. "I..." You clear your throat, fighting the dull pain from the bruises you can feel. "I liked you more than Cameron."

You take one step forward. "I liked talking with you."

Another step. "I felt safer."

You're stood right in-front of them. "I'm not afraid of you."

"You lie!"

Your fight your body's urge to flinch when they suddenly stand. Their hands come up, the tips of their claws resting just besides your face.

"You. Are. Scared. Of. Me"

You keep your feet rooted to the spot. Focusing on the tears at the corner of their eyes to distract you from the fear bubbling behind your teeth.

A human trait, you think, to cry when overwhelmed rather than just for pain.

If the distortion in their voice is indicator enough to you that their emotional state is currently too much for them to handle.

A memory rises in your mind, unbidden. A memory of Not-Cameron comforting you when you were overwhelmed.

Not long after they arrived. Your mind was beginning to buckle under the stress and you would find yourself crying alone in the bathroom or stiffling a scream while in the middle of cooking. Eventually you found yourself crying along in your bedroom, bundled up beneath the covers, trying to muffle your sobs with a pillow. Not-Cameron found you like that, red-eyed and snotty-nosed.

They had silently sat with you, gently rubbing your back and talking about anything and everything until you calmed. They asked what you needed, ran you a bath, made you food. Reassurences and affirmations tumbled from their lips like water. They gave you space, asked before approaching you for anything, gave you anything you asked for.

Eventually, you started to feel like you wanted something certain to combat all the fear and uncertainty. So you asked for routine, for surety. And they provided. Slowly, you started to feel better. Started to feel less scared and uncertain. Started to feel safe.

Even slower than when you stood, you bring your hands up. "If I was scared." You wrap your hands around the back of their fingers. "Would I do this." You turn your head, gently manouevering their hands so you don't catch a claw to the eye and lean towards them, placing a gentle kiss to their palm.

You taste iron, internally cringing at the knowledge that his hands are still covered in the blood of Cameron. But the disgust you feel at the wet sensation on your face cannot overshadow the relief you feel as their claws retract. You aren't dying today.

Tears are now freely flowing down Not-Cameron's face. "I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry." They choke out the words in between sobs, dropping to their knees and burying their face in your shirt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. He hurt you. I'm sorry."

The distorted growl in their voice sends a jolt through you, but the broken choking sound that follows after dispells all your fear.

You bury your hands in their hair. "It's okay, sweetie. It's alright."

Not-Cameron lets out a broken whimpers at the pet-name. Turning their watery gaze up to yours. "I'm sorry. I lied to you."

They look completely normal now. If not for the blood and the mangled corpse lying not three feet away, you would have found this position suggestive.

Suddenly Not-Cameron pulls away.

"Oh no." Their hands hover over your shirt and sides, not quite touching. "I got blood on you. I'm sorry. I'll clean it. I'll clean it all."

Their distress tugs at your heart, and you drop to your knees. "Look, it's..." You sigh. Gently resting your hands on their shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on their collar bone. "I won't say it's okay. But I will say we can work this out...I think."

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You physically jump at the sound of the smoke alarm.

"The cake," you whisper. A hysterical laugh bubbles up in your throat. "I forgot the cake."

Not-Cameron's bones audibly crack as they suddenly racket up to stand again. They gently push on your shoulders, directing you to turn. "I'll fix it."

Once you start walking towards the stairs, away from Cameron's corpse, a feeling of cold brushes over your shoulder. Suddenly, their image at the side suddenly seems to blur forward and you glance sideways to see no-one there.

The loud clatter of a pan on the worktop downstairs prompts you to quicken your pace. The smell of smoke and the grey haze in the air calls you to go faster.

The kitchen window is open. Not-Cameron is waving a tea-towel around to dispell the smoke. The charred remains of your cake sit in the pan on the side.

Another little laugh hiccups out of you. The domesticity of the sight jarrs against the shocking turn you just experienced upstairs.

You stagger forward. The cake is scrapped out into the food bin, and the pan deposited in the sink to soak. You take the opportunity to run your hands under the hot water. Scrubbing at the red staining your skin until the water runs thick with it.

Not-Cameron joins you, slowly siddling up to your side. Soap is dispensed and red foam swirls. After a few moments of harsh scrubbing your hands are looking cleaner than before, but you can't see it.

The red still fills your vision.

You keep scrubbing. Hands rubbing together again and again.

The warmth of Not-Cameron at your side is both a comfortable reminder of domestic normalcy and sets your teeth on edge.

The water runs clear but you still see red.

You grab the sponge. Drawing it over your skin like you want to scrub the flesh from bone. You think you hear something but all the sounds have gone muffled.

The image of Cameron's eyes staring at nothing in your mind, and yet somehow they glare at you accusingly in your memory. Scrub harder. Wash it away.

"_____ Stop!"

The sound of your name startles you and snaps your vision back into focus. Not-Cameron's face fills yours, concern evident in the turn of their lip and the frown pulling at their eyes. The sponge is ripped from your hands and something thick and viscous suddenly engulfs them. You go to look down but one of their hands suddenly catches your chin, stopping you from looking down.

"Look at me. Breathe." Their silver eyes hold your gaze captive. The squishy substance holding your hands hostage drags your arms up, pressing your palms to Not-Cameron's chest. Their heartbeat is steady...and strong, almost like it's beating right up against your palm.

Your mind zeros in on the steady thump-thump of their heart. Like the pitter-patter of rain, or the steady beat of footsteps on a cobbled road. The calming effect is powerful.

You take one shuddering breath after another.

"There you go, love. Breathe." Not-Cameron's voice surrounds you with its lilting, soothing undertones. A sound you had grown to like over the past seven months.

You feel the squishy substance coating your hands retract and change, until you feel the familiar weight of Not-Cameron's hand on the back of your palms.

"Come on. Come take a seat." Step by step. Beat by beat. They lead you through the doorway to the living room.

You're gently lowered to sit on the couch.

Your eyes zero in on the wet stain on the furthest cushion. Cameron's face starting to fade back into your consciousness.

There expression drops, glancing between you and the stain. A feral snarl rips through Not-Cameron as they fling the wet cushion away. Lowering themselves to kneel in the space left behind.

Their hands don't leave yours, thumb rubbing back and forth over the back of your left hand. The gentle pressure serves to keep you grounded; brings you back to the present.

"It's over. You're safe. Nothing else will happen to you, I promise."

The words combine with the pressure on your hand to form a powerful spell, banishing the images of blood and death to the back of your mind to be dealt with later in the quiet of night by your subconscious.

You only register the fact that you were shaking once it stops...and Not-Cameron releases your hand. Withdrawing just slightly, giving you space. They turn their body to sit in a more relaxed stance, staring blankly at the dark TV screen.

They hold out a cup to you, and you take it. You don't ask how they suddenly produce a full cup of your favourite drink from the empty space behind them; either they have more hands (or aproximate) than you know or they can levitate objects and you don't know which would be weirder and how much more weird you can handle right now.

"Thank you." You don't know if your whispered thanks are to thank them for helping you calm down, for the drink, or for stopping Cameron from suffocating you upstairs. A little bit of both you surmise.

The sound of a purr starts and then stops just as quick. Even though Not-Cameron has turned to the side, you can see their jaw shift as they clench their teeth. "I'm sorry. You need normal right now."

You almost jolt at how serious they sound.

"More normal than me."

You ponder those words.

The solid weight to them. The sadness. The regret. The bitter twinge of jealousy. The quiet easy-to-miss upward-lilt of a question.

Like coins, you count up your memories with them; the scary and unnerving are outweighed by the happy and comforting. But the most recent coin is tarnished and in need of polishing, before it can be added to the wallet and put away in your pocket.

"Upstairs. When you..." You trail off.

"Killed him." Not-Cameron finishes for you.

You take a sip to clear your throat before resting the cup on one thigh, wrapping your hands around the ceramic and focusing on the temperature to keep your grounded state. "Were you going to hurt me." The word "hurt" almost sticks in your throat.

Not-Cameron turns like they've been electrocuted. Their hands reach out for you but hover just short. "No. Never. Never hurt you." Their voice distorts again, a tinge of black creeping in around their eyes, but this time it doesn't fill you with a feeling of dread.

Their head bows forward, shoulders hunching inward. Shame overtaking their features. "I...I'm sorry. I thought if I scared you..." They blink rapidly. Hands shaking as they pull back. "I didn't want to..." It's their turn to take a steadying breath. "I don't want to lose you now."

"Okay. Listen to me." You put your drink on the coffee table and turn to Not-Cameron, shuffling closer until you knee almost touches theirs. You gently reach out for their shoulder, lightly brushing the flannel. "These past few months, have been like a dream. I've felt safe and happy and I finally know what it's like to love someone who loves me back just as much. But I have to know..."

Not-Cameron turns to face you again. The black has vanished from the whites of their eyes. Their posture is tense, like their set to run.

"...Why did you replace Cameron."

At your words they somehow tense up even more. Not-Cameron's gaze twists and for a split second you think they're gonna burst into tears again. But then suddenly their face relaxes, all expression dissapearing. "You didn't want anyone else."

"What do you mean?" You question.

"I tried. Before, I mean. I talked to you. Tried to get close." The skin of their face ripples and for a few seconds it's like a slideshow of multiple different faces appearing and dissapearing.

You even recognise some of them; a bus driver, a homeless man, a child who sat one table over at your local cafe who you spoke to for a while while they were waiting for their mother to come back from the shop next door, a guy who stood to give you their seat on the train.

They continue talking even as their face shifts. "So many faces. I learned so much. But every time I tried, I couldn't get closer. You didn't want any of them. You chose him." Their face settles back into the visage you've grown used to seeing over the past seven months. "So I used his face."

"What do you mean you tried?"

Their face changes again, until you're looking at the cute stranger you'd met in a bar three weeks before you started dating Cameron. They speak with a drawling twang, a voice you haven't heard in months. "Well, then beautiful. Could I buy you a drink."

Their face changes again, becoming the stranger who'd lent you an umbrella last year. Speaking in a higher smooth voice. "Take it. I'd feel bad if you caught a chill."

You'd forgotten about those encounters until right this moment. You remember the feeling of 'something's wrong' that had struck you during them.

Their face starts to change again and you snap. "Okay, stop!"

The shifting immediately settles back into Cameron's face.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. You blindly reach out, searching. When you find their hand you feel them pull back slightly before accepting the hand hold. You focus on the warmth of their hand in yours and quickly pull up your memories of cuddling on the couch and movie nights with popcorn. Once the beating of your heart has settled to a steady rhythm again, you open your eyes, meeting Not-Cameron's blank gaze with your own. "So, you became Cameron."

They nod.

"But...what I don't understand is...how did you know everything he knew."

They pull their hand out of yours, sighing before they speak. "I needed to ea-needed to keep him alive until I knew everything." Their voice cracks slightly when they correct themself. Their hand comes up to lightly brush the edge of your neck. "But you were hurt because he got out. I was too complacent."

"So you were taking his memories."

Another nod.

"He...the body upstairs. Um...will you forget, or..."

"No. i'll remember...." a sincere expression suddenly floods over their face like a wave "...and I'll take care of it. I promise."

The air grows heavy as a silence falls over you.

You sense no hostility in them but you find the silence uncomfortable.

A promise has been obtained that the immediate problem of the dead body lying in your upstairs hallway is not going to be a problem bringing police to your door and leading to a lifetime in jail.

And yet, an uncertain future hangs over your head, and the urge to set something in stone burns in your chest.

"I want you to stay." / "I promise I...."

You speak at the same time.

Not-Cameron's mouth snaps shut mid-sentence at your words.

You wait to see if they'll finish their sentence, but they seem to have frozen again like they did upstairs.

So, you continue. "I mean. Everyone would be suspicious if Cameron stopped going to work and, the neighbours love you, and as I said before...I think I might have...maybe...I love you."

Their breath hitches at the word love, but you continue.

"And well...the real Cameron can't ever come back so, it would make sense for you to stay and I would appreciate it if you would keep pretending to be him and..." You trail off.

There's something heartbreaking about the crestfallen expression making it's way onto Not-Cameron's face. He twitches each time you say the name Cameron, even as he nods along in agreement.

You switch track. "What is your name?"

"What?" Not-Cameron jolts, expression wiped clean for a second and pupils dilating.

"i can't keep calling you Not-Cameron. I want to know your name." You speak slowly to ensure the emphasis is clear. Keeping their eyes locked with yours.

For a few seconds, their pupils grow and shrink rapidly, like a blinker light. After a moment, they settle again and expression returns to their face. Their expression is reminiscent of a soldier, stealing themselves to face the firing squad. "Alright, love." They shuffle in their seat before suddenly holding out their hand to you again.

You take it.

"My name...my real name...is Dieter." Their voice distorts midway, becoming deeper and husky, like tv static given voice. "It was given to me. To be my own."

You repeat it. Testing the feel and flavour of their name in your mouth. You decide you like it, and say it again.

A lovestruck grin begins to spread across Dieter's face. Their teeth are slightly sharper than normal and their pupils turn into literal hearts, which they quickly blink away.

You grab their cheeks, lightly pulling their face towards yours.

Dieter follows like a sunflower seeking light, willingly shifting forward to kneel on the couch. Arms braced either side of you to not fall forward and crush you beneath them.

"If we're gonna make this work. Don't hide that."

"Hide what?"

"The hearts, they're cute."

With a single blink, the hearts return. "Okay," they breath. "Need anything else."

You take a deep breath and let go of their face. Warmth burns the corners of your eyes and tears begin to spill.

Your body has finally begun to register the finality of it all. Relief and the backflow of your emotions are all spilling from your eyes.

A distressed expression flickers across Dieter's face as you shuffle yourself back, leaning into the cushions.

"I need a hug or I'm gonna cry. Please."

It's a lie. Well the part about needing a hug is true, but the tears were going to fall regardless of whether you recieve the physical comfort immediately or not.

Dieter complies without hesitation, regardless of the truth to your ultimatem. Immediately following you into the corner of the couch and wrapping their arms under you. They turn, lifting you and settling you on their lap with startling ease.

You cling to them like they'll dissapear any moment. Burying your face in the crook of their neck and fighting the urge to scream out your emotions.

One arm coils around your legs while the other wraps around your back. A large hand cradles the back of your head, gently massaging your skull in a soothing motion.

A familiar humming vibration starts and stops again.

"I like the...the purring...t...too." You barely choke out the words against their neck through your muted sobs.

The vibration starts up again. The purr could put any motorcyle engine to shame. The sound is damn near ethereal, like sitting in an echo chamber filled with singing bowls playing healing vibrations; a feeling like liquid gold seeps through your battered frame.

"I love you. I will make it right. I promise." Dieter's voice switches between the familiar tones of Cameron and the deeper pitch they've revealed to be their real voice, but both carry the same weight of adoration.

Exhaustion rears its head and your eyelids grow heavy.

"You can sleep, meine liebe. Everything will be fixed when you wake."

The sobs wracking your body begin to lose their edge as darkness creeps into the edge of your vision. Dieter shifts, their body somehow becoming softer. The pull of sleep becomes too powerful to fight.

You begin to drift, cradled in warmth and soothing vibration.

Your last thought before darkness envelops you fully surpises you. The spark of your subconscious is as brilliant as a star in the void of the dreaming abyss.

How wonderful it is to be loved.

----------------------- End------------------

First < > Previous < > Last

[celestialmaison]

cw: implied jjk s2 spoilers (nothing direct, but iykyk)

definitely not a coincidence that jjk s2 is showing us a younger gojo when the person he literally loved more than anything was still bright and hopeful and we’re also seeing gojo’s eyes with either no or minimal obstruction in damn near every shot. just look at him:

we’re seeing those aquamarine gems every. five. seconds. it’s been a while since i’ve watched jjk s1, but i remember always making *kicking feet and giggling noises* when we were given the opportunity to see gojo’s eyes because a) metal b) pretty c) they were always covered. because they were blocked and hidden the majority of the time, seeing gojo’s eyes felt like seeing a part of his soul. they’re still partially hidden behind his glasses in a ton of s2 scenes, but we’re getting a lot of faded lenses and side angles that still allow us to see what’s underneath.

when gojo is young and geto is around and they share hope, gojo doesn’t really hide his eyes. as an adult, gojo primarily hides his eyes except for when he’s casting techniques i’m not crying u are

[twobrothersoneheart]

[wendyjames66]

Wendy sending love to everyone❤️❤️

[destinyc1020]

This might be out of order but why does Tom always looks like he’s undressing Zendaya when she takes his pictures 🥵🥵

Lol.... His eyes "go soft" for sure 😊

It's the type of look guys give you when they're interested in you and like what they see lol. I call it "the look" lol 😏

Z has a similar look when she looks at Tom too. Her eyes go soft and she gets kinda giddy and soft lol. 🥰

It's almost like you can literally feel when someone loves another person. It's all in the eyes.

[soulinkpoetry]

It’s not always shyness that keeps eyes on the floor, but fear of people peering into your tortured soul.

.

.

[kdmiller55]

More Than Skin Deep

She 12 While the king was on his couch,     my nard gave forth its fragrance. 13 My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh     that lies between my breasts. 14 My beloved is to me a cluster of henna blossoms     in the vineyards of Engedi. He 15 Behold, you are beautiful, my love;     behold, you are beautiful;     your eyes are doves. She 16 Behold, you are beautiful, my beloved, truly…

[greeenola]

[formywriyinglalala]

this genuinely breaks my heart

[wizardsimper]

There's something about how in Act 3 after Gale has visited the Stormshore Tabernacle, he tells the player (if romanced);

“I would much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness, and feeling. No god could ever compare.”

It's worth noting that throughout the game one of Gale's most prominent characteristics is his very expressive eyes, we see it in almost all of his scenes when he looks at the player, in particular his Act 2 and Act 3 romance scene, as well other instances throughout.

But compare that to Gale after he becomes a god, his eyes are no longer the same soulful, emotional eyes as before, but glowing with ambition even if he's trying to express his emotions. He'll never truly look at the player like he once did, even if he still loves them.

[elizabeths-storytime]

CrossGuild Skate Company

I passed by a skate shop called Crossroads and I went haha what if,

[dragongirl642]

The Eyes are the Windows to The Soul

Main story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 (final)

Bonus Chapter (Dieter's perspective) - Part 1, Part2

Dieter the Doppelganger OC Info:

OC info card

Dieter Backstory - TBA

Dieter Relationship headcanons Both sfw and nsfw

Bonus Stories:

TBA

[shadowduel]

eye of the beholder

[greenteaandtattoos]

crushed. destroyed. devastated. deCEASED after suddenly realizing their boba was the color of each other's SOUL

[thegoodthebadandtheart]

sam/dean panty kink as per request > 🩲

[hisui-dreamer]

trial romance

Pairing: Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

Synopsis: since you were going to be put in an arranged marriage anyways, you decided to let yourself experience a normal teenage romance first!

Tags: fluff, slow burn, rent-a-boyfriend mallesu, mutual pining nrc and sra are mixed schools, reader has an elder brother, reader is royalty

Word count: 2.7k+

Notes: woooh sorry for neglecting you mal mal :( i hope this fic makes up for it hehe

Masterlist

You've never really known love.

Born as the second child of a small, but affluent kingdom, you're not sure you have the right to complain. Each day dawns with the assurance of never experiencing hunger, attended to by countless devoted maids catering to your every whim. It's a life of opulence, one that stands in stark contrast to the struggles endured by those grappling with meager wages just to survive.

Still, there remains an ache within you, a yearning for a love that exists in the enchanting tales of old. A love so untainted that it remains steadfast in any circumstance, a love capable of cleansing away all your sorrows, becoming your very reason of existence.

But such a love seems as distant as the stars. After all, you're bound by the responsibilities as the second princess. Unlike your elder brother who inherits the throne, you are a mere pawn in the intricate game of politics, destined for an arranged marriage rather than a fufiling romance.

In a rare display of benevolence, your father granted you a fleeting taste of freedom, sending you off to live under a false identity at the renowned Royal Sword Academy on Sage Island. Three precious years, promising a respite from the constraints of duty, and you promised to seize each moment and savour the life of a normal person who yearned for love.

Which brings you back to the present moment.

"Jellyfish are such fascinating creatures, don't you think so dear?"

The man stands tall beside you, his golden locks catching the ambient blue glow within the aquarium, lending him an almost ethereal air. His emerald eyes fix upon you, awaiting your response.

You return his gaze, captivated by the way the light dances in his eyes. A soft smile graces your lips as you consider his question.

"They are indeed fascinating," you reply, your voice carrying a hint of admiration. "They move with such grace and fluidity, it's like they're dancing through the water."

He hums at your response, fix focus shifting back onto the creatures drifting in the display.

He's a peculiar man, no doubt. It's puzzling to fathom the sort of individual who would boldly advertise their boyfriend rental services on Magicam. Especially someone as strikingly handsome as he appears to be; you would have assumed he'd have no shortage of admirers or suitors.

But you suppose you're not really any better, the person who hired said rentable boyfriend.

Though you're a bit ashamed to admit, you harbor a certain discomfort when it comes to meeting new people. And with your identity as a merchant's daughter, you've had few interactions with your schoolmates, leaving you with a shortage of friends, let alone a romantic relationship.

It was in then that you stumbled upon his listing.

And now, here you are, on your first ever date, exploring an aquarium together.

"Do you mind telling me what dates you're free?" you ask casually as you stroll towards the tropical section, bathed in the vivid hues of exotic marine life.

He trails alongside you, his presence exuding an air of calmness. "Dates...?" he muses, his tone tinged with intrigue. "Ah, you wish to see me another time, I presume?"

You cast your gaze downwards, a hint of bashfulness coloring your cheeks. "Yes... I would like that."

He contemplates for a moment, a hint of concern crossing his features. "Hmm... My fees are quite high you see. Your finances may suffer if you spend too much time with me."

"Hmph. You don't have to be concerned. This money has nowhere else to go anyways," you scoff.

His gaze lingers on you with a hint of curiosity, before a gentle warmth softens his features as he nods. "Very well," he murmurs, his hand reaching out to envelop yours in a tender clasp. With a delicate gesture, he presses a fleeting kiss upon the back of your hand, his voice resonating with anticipation, "I look forward to seeing you more often, my dear."

Aquarium Date ✅

First Date ✅

"You seem quite troubled by this book. Is something the matter?" Mal asked, peering over the edge of his book, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He sat across from you, textbooks and notebooks scattered between you, each page turned with a quiet reverence. The library was bathed in a soft glow, the gentle hum of whispers filling the air like a comforting melody.

You glanced up from your own notes, running a hand through your hair in a gesture of resignation. "I have a test coming up for Magic Analysis, but I always get so overwhelmed with information I forget the details."

"Magic Analysis... Perhaps you're approaching it from the wrong angle," Mal suggested, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "What if we break it down into smaller, more manageable chunks? We could create a study plan together."

The idea sparked a glimmer of hope within you, the prospect of tackling the daunting material with a structured approach feeling suddenly within reach. "That... actually sounds like a good idea," you admitted, a tentative smile forming on your lips.

"Alright," Mal began, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. "Shall I give you a demonstration?"

There's something to his smile that worries you slightly.

Study Date ✅

The quaint café bustled with life, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the sweet scent of pastries.

Mal's eyes sparkled curiously as he scanned the menu, his fingers tracing the various options with keen interest. "This place is quite charming," he remarked.

You smiled, a flutter of warmth blooming in your chest at his appreciation. "I'm glad you like it. I heard it's one of the best spots in town. Have you decided what to order?"

His brows furrow lightly. "I'm not sure... They all look quite enticing..."

"How about a parfait then? You can choose different flavours of ice cream too," you suggested, gesturing to the other page.

Malleus's gaze followed your gesture, his eyes alight with anticipation. "Ice cream, you say? That sounds delightful," he replied, a spark of childlike excitement dancing in his expression.

You couldn't help but mirror that smile.

Cute Cafe Date ✅

The night stretched out before you like an endless canvas, painted with a myriad of twinkling stars scattered across the indigo sky. Cradled in the comforting embrace of a soft blanket spread out on the grass, you lay your head gently upon Mal's shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath as you gaze upwards.

"It's breathtaking..." you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the tranquil stillness of the night.

His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining in a silent gesture of affection. "The sight never fails to captivate me," he responds, his voice tinged with awe. "I'm often reminded of how quickly time passes when I stargaze."

Lifting your head slightly, you steal a glimpse of his face, illuminated by the ethereal glow of the night sky. "Ah... Fae are known for their longevity, aren't they?" you remark, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of his blonde hair behind his pointed ears. "Is that part of the reason why you became a rentable boyfriend?"

He smiles ruefully. "Partly so," he admits. "My mentor suggested it as a means of broadening my perspective and gaining new experiences.

A giggle escapes your lips. What's with that? To think you're doing this for educational purposes..." you tease, though the chill of reality briefly brushes against your thoughts. "I hope you've at least had fun?"

"Absolutely." He envelops both of your hands in his own, his gaze unwaveringly earnest as it locks onto yours. "My dear, I've thoroughly enjoyed every second spent with you,"

A blush tinges your cheeks at his sincerity, and you respond softly, "It's the same for me. I had so much fun when I was with you,"

You find yourself ensnared by the ethereal presence of the man before you, his proximity stirring a flurry of emotions within you. His face, mere inches from your own, is illuminated by the soft glow of the twinkling stars, their light mirrored in the depths of his serene emerald eyes. Your heart quickens its pace, thumping so loudly in your chest that it threatens to drown out his next words.

"...Can I kiss you?"

You feel yourself nod slightly.

He tentatively closes the distance between you, his movements deliberate yet achingly tender. His hand, warm and reassuring, cups your cheek, his touch sending shivers of electricity dancing across your skin. The scent of night blossoms and distant pine trees fills your senses, mingling with the heady anticipation swirling in the air.

The kiss is tender at first, a tentative exploration of each other, as if testing the waters of this newfound intimacy. But soon, a surge of desire courses through you, fueling the passion that blooms between you. You lose yourself in the moment, surrendering to the intoxicating whirlwind of emotions that sweeps you away, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed by him.

The sequence of events that followed remains a hazy blur in your memory, the details shrouded in a fog of uncertainty. All you recall with clarity is Mal's familiar presence beside you as he walked you back to the imposing gates of your school hand-in-hand, just as he'd always done.

Just like clockwork, you retrieved a thick envelope from the depths of your bag, its contents weighing heavily on your mind. "Hold this," you instructed quietly.

He stared curiously at your actions. With a practiced fluidity, you extracted a handful of bills from your wallet.. With unwavering composure, you extended the money towards him, your tone devoid of sentimentality. "This is the bonus for kissing," pressing the bills into his palm.

Leaning forward on tiptoes, you planted a chaste farewell kiss upon his cheek, the gesture a stark contrast to the emotionless exchange that had just transpired. "See you next time," you murmured, before turning away.

Each clack of your heels against the pavement resonated within him like a mournful toll, echoing the hollowness that had taken root in his chest. He watched, transfixed, as the last sliver of your silhouette dissolved into the far distance, the bittersweet echoes of your footsteps fading into the twilight.

Dark, menacing clouds stretched ominously across the vast expanse of the sky, casting an eerie pall over the landscape below. Before you realised it, raindrops cascaded from the heavens in a frensied blur.

Stargazing Date✅

First Kiss ✅

The evening air was cool as he led you through the labyrinthine streets of the old city, the cobblestones whispering tales of centuries past beneath your feet. Towering above you, ancient buildings adorned with weathered stone facades loomed like silent sentinels guarding the secrets of bygone eras.

"This way," he beckoned, his voice tinged with excitement as he pulled you along into a narrow alleyway veiled in shadows.

With eager steps, you followed his lead, anticipation coursing through your veins as you delved deeper into the heart of the historic district.

"You know," you mused, breaking the silence as you walked, "when I said you could choose our next date, I never imagined it would involve a trip to the City of Flowers. Have you been here before?"

"I have," he answered. "I was invited here once. There was a magnificent festival here, but I was more interested in the gargoyles."

"The... gargoyles?" you echoed, casting an intrigued glance at the statues that adorned the buildings around you. "There do seem to be quite a few of them."

"They've watched over these buildings for centuries, warding off evil spirits and protecting those within."

"Really? That sounds fascinating," you murmured. "Would you mind telling me more?"

A smile graced his lips, his eyes gleaming with a unbridled glee. "Gladly," he agreed, his voice reverent. "Each one has a story to tell, waiting to be heard by those who seek to listen."

You listened intently as he recounted the legends surrounding these ancient sentinels, his words weaving a captivating narrative that transported you through time. As you continued your exploration of the historic buildings, he regaled you with tales of the city's storied past, his words painting vivid pictures of times long gone.

Somewhere along the line, night had descended like a comforting shroud, cloaking the city in a blanket of darkness. Now, you found yourselves strolling along the tranquil riverbank, the rhythmic lapping of the waves providing a soothing cadence to your thoughts.

Your three years of time is almost up.

Soon, you'd be back in the confines of your childhood room, the familiar walls suffocating with the promise of the same, predictable routine. Then, like a ship launched by an unforgiving wind, you'd be whisked away to wed the spouse your father had chosen, leaving behind your fleeting moments of freedom and the memories far away in your teenage years.

Mal glances sideways at you, noting the unusual quiet that had settled upon you like a shadow. "Is everything alright, my dear?" he inquires, his voice laced with concern.

You pause, grappling with the weight of your impending confession, searching for the right words to convey your thoughts. Finally, you draw in a deep breath, steeling yourself for the revelation to come.

"No... It's not," you confess, your voice faltering slightly as you let go of his hand. "Mal, this... this will be the last time I'm hiring you."

Confusion furrows his brow as he searches your eyes for clarity. "But... why?" he responds, a note of sadness creeping into his tone.

"Because..." you begin, your gaze drifting towards the glistening surface of the river, unable to withstand his earnest gaze. "Because I'm leaving Sage Island. I'll be graduating and returning home, and... and I won't require your services anymore."

"I... see."

A heavy silence descends between you, the weight of your confession hanging in the air like a tangible presence. And as you continued your stroll along the riverbank, the knowledge that this would be your final night together lingered like a bittersweet farewell to the memories you had shared.

His Choice Date ✅

Breakup ✅

You've never liked riding in carriages.

With each clop of the horses' hooves, the entire contraption lurched, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It was a waltz of unease, the sway and groan of leather and wood a discordant melody against the cobblestone streets.

The confines of the cramped cabin also felt suffocating, a gilded cage that further severed your connection to your freedom. But the carriage rolled on, carrying you not just through the mountainous terrain, but towards a future you desperately wished to outrun.

Malleus Draconia was your spouse-to-be.

Throughout your school days, whispers of the famed fae prince from Night Raven College echoed in the halls. Tales spun of his unmatched prowess in Spelldrive, where he emerged victorious alone against all teams, his formidable magical abilities casting a long shadow of fear over his opponents. His towering and menacing presence, coupled with the dark horns that crowned his head, only added to the mystique that surrounded him. You could only hope that beneath this formidable exterior lay a heart capable of kindness, granting you the chance for a peaceful existence.

Though, you wouldn't say you could forgive him for having such a similar name to Mal.

As the carriage comes to a halt, the sound of hooves and wheels ceases, accompanied by a palpable sense of anticipation. With the opening of the carriage door, your guards stand at attention, their expressions solemn yet resolute. "Your Highness, we have arrived," one of them announces, his voice carrying the weight of the moment.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve, steeling yourself for the encounter that awaits beyond the carriage doors.

Just as your foot grazes the carriage step, a gloved hand extends towards you, reaching out towards you with a graceful assurance.. You glance up to meet the gaze of your betrothed, and for a moment, time seems to stand still.

His eyes are a familiar shade of emerald green. A shade that's grown to be your favourite, in fact.

"M-Mal?" you stammer, the name escaping your lips before you can stop it.

"It's lovely to see you again, my dear," he smiles, as radiant as the sun.

Masterlist

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