missaengg

[missaengg]

Zayne: So, what is Caleb to you?

MC: The reason I wake up every morning.

Zayne: ...That’s adorable.

Caleb earlier that morning, barging into MC′s room, smacking pans together: WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!

[missaengg]

Jude Jazza's 2nd Birthday Voiced Letter

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Creative liberties were taken in order for a smoother translation. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

I have include the audio to his letter for listening, and for those who can't see the image, the text is below as well!

「 To the Princess still being Cursed by Me

If I were to toss all the celebrations and hatred that I've ever received up to the heavens, hatred would definitely win out. That's the way I live my life, 'n I don't particularly regret it. It'll be this way goin' forward too.

And yet, ya still offer up yer "congrats," on a plate so easily dont'cha? Lookin' like it's trivial. Leaves me fumin'!

Livin' in this shitty life in this shitty city in, ya dunno how much it means t'me.

It'll take ya a lifetime t'figure out how much yer celebrations are worth, so ya better be ready.

𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓮 𝓙𝓪𝔃𝔃𝓪 」

[Story Master List]

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

If you wish to be added to my tags list and are 18+, then please comment below and specify which suitor, or all translations!

[missaengg]

Mm… I want to slip my fingers through that chest opening…

I can't resist him.

[missaengg]

Jude Jazza’s 2nd Birthday: “The Cursed Moon Within His Merciless Arms” Epilogue POV

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Creative liberties were taken in order for a smoother translation. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

MDNI. NSFW.

Victor: Welcome back, Jude!

It was late at night when I returned to Crown castle after finishing up work at Raven Co.. That’s when Victor greeted me.

Jude: …..Why’re ya still up?

Victor: Why of course, to prepare for your birthday party tomorrow, Jude! …..

Victor: …Oh, look the date has already changed. JUDE, HAPPY BIRTH—

Jude: —Hold it.

Victor: I can’t even give you my wishes? ….That makes me feel so lonely.

Jude: Already gotta prior engagement with ‘em words.

After I rejected him, I thought back to the conversation I had with Kate before I left for work.

[Flashback]

Jude: I’ll be back late t’night.

I don’t share my schedule with others unless it’s necessary.

…..However, my birthday was tomorrow, and she asked me about my schedule a month in advance in order to celebrate it.

She’d been counting down the days, so I felt like I owed it to her to say something.

Kate: Oh, really….?

Seeing Kate look disheartened, guilt that I thought I’d long lost, started to surface.

Kate: ….Um, well, I just have one favor to ask, Jude.

Kate: I want to be the first to wish you happy birthday, so I want to come back to your room no matter how late it is.

Kate: If you sleep at Raven Co., your employees might be the first to tell you…

Kate: Oh, but I’m not saying you have to do it. Just only if it’s possible……

Kate said that with a pasted smile on her face.

It was obvious that she was trying to suppress her feelings so she wouldn’t burden me.

— A woman who understands circumstances, or a woman who doesn’t understand circumstances.

If you ask me which one is better, naturally it’s an understanding woman who stays in her lane.

(But…what’s this?)

(I reckon it’ll be fine to listen to some of the selfish things she says.)

Jude: …..Can’t make no promises, but I’ll try my best.

Kate: Really? Thanks, Jude!!!

[Flash Back Ends]

Remembering Kate’s bright smile, like a moon emerging from the clouds,

I parted ways from Victor towards my room, my pace a little quicker than usual.

When I returned I could tell Kate had waited for as long as she could, having fallen asleep in the chair.

(…..Whadda pain.)

I picked Kate up and carried her to the bed,

The line actually reads that he picked her up behind the knees. Essentially, he princess carried her. However, I felt this is already implied and opted to leave it out.

And then I quickly fell asleep thinking about the wishes Kate would say to me when she woke up.

When my birthday arrived, it was a crazy day.

In the morning, I wasted time dealing with a group of weaklings trying to kill me off,

And that afternoon, Crown celebrated my birthday with a song….

It was late in the evening when I was finally alone with Kate.

Kate: Ohh….Jude…..it feels so…..good…

When I bit into her throat and drove myself deep inside her, Kate clung to me looking blissed out.

When I saw that look, I swallowed hard.

I wanted to make her feel even better, to mess her up even more. To drive her even crazier……A violent need surged throughout my body.

(…..Am I a kid who gets turned on for seein’ my girlfriend gettin’ excited?)

Kate’s tearful eyes, her knitted brows as she tried to endure, her melted expression as she comes…..

I got excited by Kate’s expressions as our bodies melded together,

Just like a boy falling in love for the first time.

Jude: ….That so?

I replied bluntly as I cynically laughed internally at my own immature feelings, when Kate’s eyes flickered anxiously.

Kate: Jude……?

Jude: ……

Jude: …….Ain’t no way I’m gonna strain yer body by tanglin’ up with ya if it don’t feel good.

I gave a round about reply and then slowly moved my hips further forward.

As I dragged against each of Kate’s favorite spots, she let out sweet, soft moans.

However, even though she was completely absorbed in pleasure, Kate didn’t stop asking questions.

Kate: Jude, I…..feel so good…right now….I’m losing my mind….

Kate: Can you….say it more clearly….?

(….This woman’s way too worried if I’m feelin’ good or not.)

All she needed to do was surrender herself to the pleasure I was giving her, but she wanted both of us to feel good.

Each time that happened I felt this itchy sensation deep in my heart, like it’d been tickled by a feather…..

I could feel the presence of the thing called love.

(….Feels even weirder answerin’ without thinkin’ it’s a hassle.)

Jude: Guess ain’t no gettin’ ‘round it…..

Jude: ….Feels good, Kate.

Kate laughed as I brushed her bangs away from her sweaty forehead, and kissed her softly.

Kate: Hehe….hey, Jude….

Kate:……To be honest , I was hoping on your birthday, you’d say “I like you” or “I love you”…..

Kate: I kind of thought you’d say it….

Kate: But….this is plenty for now.

As if to say that she understood all the feelings I couldn’t express,

Kate smiled contentedly and caressed my cheek lovingly.

Illuminated by moonlight, Kate glowed brilliantly….giving the illusion of the moon falling from within reach.

(….Beautiful.)

Kate: ….Oh! But…..you can say them whenever you feel like it, okay? Words of love.

Jude:….If I feel like it.

When I brushed it off Kate pouted in dissatisfaction, and immediately I pressed my lips against hers.

In surprise, Kate tried to escape, but my tongue captured and entangled with hers.

(If I don’t say things like “I like ya” or “I love ya”, you’ll keep chasin’ me for ‘em.)

Just as I chase and cry for the moon, you can chase and cry for me too.

Just keep chasing me under a curse that will never be broken for all time.

I have no intention of telling her that….and I can’t let go yet.

Kate: Mmmm……Jude…..

The voice calling me in between kisses, dissolved all of my sense into a puddle.

Jude: …..Ya might’ve had ‘nough, but I ain’t had ‘nough.

Kate: Mm….the present?

When I attended Crown’s birthday party for me, Kate gave me a tasteful fountain pen as a gift.

It was chosen to match the same diameter of the pen I normally used,

'A tasteful fountain pen' was repeated in this line, but I dropped it because I felt it was redundant.

I’ve no intention of nitpicking about it now, and if you asked me to return it, I wouldn’t give it back.

Jude: Haven’t had ‘nough of ya .

Kate: Huh…..Oh!

I resumed the flow from earlier, and as Kate whimpered sweetly I bit her over and over again, sucking her up.

As I etched red marks into her skin, leaving behind traces of our love-making, Kate moved like she was trying to escape.

Jude: …..Oi, whadda tryin’ to run for?

Kate: B-because….if you leave marks there, I won’t be able to cover them with clothing…..

Jude: Tch…..yer tryna hide it now?

I was surprised that my retort carried a sulky tone to it.

….However, Kate didn’t notice the tone of my voice, but kept staring blankly at me.

Kate: …..Is that okay?

Jude: Is what okay?

Kate: Well….if the Crown members see it tomorrow morning, they’ll say something about it, right?

Kate: Jude, you seem bad with that sort of thing…..

Just as Kate said, some of the Crown guys might tease me if they saw the hickeys.

Or maybe they’ll just look on and not give a lick.

Jude: It’s fine ya don't do that…….Were ya avoidin’ me ‘cause ya were frettin’ over that?

Kate: …..Yeah, but if you don’t care Jude…..

Kate: Then I want you to leave lots of marks on me.

Kate:….Oh, I’m asking you to do everything again.

Jude: ….There’s nothin’ wrong with that.

You were the first to give me birthday wishes, kicked out those gits who attacked me, chose a gift that made me happy,

Called out to me with a soft, sweet voice, accepted me in deepest parts of you, and wanted to cater to me.

…..Kate might think it’s only natural since it’s my birthday, but it’s not just about getting someone to do something for you.

Jude: If that’s whatcha want, I’ll engrave ‘em on ya ‘til ya hate it.

This cursed, cursed night was far from being over.

[Story Master List] [Birthday Letter] Dividers: @.natimiles @.cafekitsune

PLEASE, he is SO SWEET. The way he's slowly noticing emotions in himself that he thought no longer existed, and the fact that he can feel the presence of love inside of himself (when he feels that he out of all people wouldn't, and feels it's suffocating overall.) Ugh, I can't wait to see his character growth over time. And that BLUSH when he admits he hasn't had enough of her!

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @complexivelovely @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

If you wish to be added to my tags list and are 18+, then please comment below and specify which suitor, or all translations!

[missaengg]

Yes 😭 Please hire me at Raven and work me like a dog until I'm a crying mess...

and then perhaps... perhaps reward me with your lips? Pretty please?

Jude...

*cough cough*

I'm sick...might need true love's kiss for this one...

*dramatically collapses*

*grabs you before you fall to the ground*

Hah, such a dramatic princess.

*brushes a finger over your lips*

Think it'd be fair if I gave ya what ya wanted right away?

[missaengg]

So I knew that I had seen this picture in an Ikepri related context somewhere on Tumblr, but couldn't remember where until @wistfulwanderingone reminded me!!

It was @chirp-a-chirp's post A Rhodolite Thanksgiving!

Thank you so much for the laughs and the inspiration ❤️, and I'm so sorry I didn't add this in sooner 😭

If you haven't read A Rhodolite Thanksgiving and you're looking for a silly laugh, I recommend giving it a read. I'm reading it through for the second time and still cracking up 😂

A Turkapus Monstrosity

10 Days Until Christmas: Shopping Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Prince Clavis Lelouch x f!reader Tags: humor, fluff, modern au Word Count: 999

“Put it back.”

“No.”

“Clavis…” You draw out the second syllable of his name, the warning in your voice obvious. You eye the prankster of a man in front of you, gesturing for him to put the twenty pound turkey back into the case. “Put the turkey back.”

“I refuse.”

A disgruntled sigh tumbles out of your mouth. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing you could massage the growing migraine right out of your temples. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you slowly breathe out. It doesn’t do much to help.

“Clavis,” you state, flatly, glaring at him, “we are not buying a turkey. And we are not buying an octopus.” You narrow your eyes, thrusting your finger at the aisle refrigerator he pulled the turkey from. “Put. It. Back.”

“But dearest, how else can I surprise my brothers with a culinary masterpiece?” Clavis pushes, an excited smile on his lips. He pulls out his phone, opening it to the picture he showed you a week ago. “Look at how delightful this is!”

You already know what you’ll see, but your eyes still flicker to his phone involuntarily, grimacing when they’re assaulted by the octopus turkey monstrosity. On the screen sits an image you were hoping you’d never have to see again – a beautifully roasted turkey, two beady eyes sitting on top of the opening that once used to be its butt, shitting out half an octopus. 

“Even the name is delightful,” Clavis beams. “Turkapus. How fun is it to say that? Turk-a-pus.”

You feel a blood vessel in your forehead burst as you stare at the turkapus, your eye twitching violently and your stomach churning. The turkapus stares back at you, its beady onion eyes mocking your futile attempts at dissuading your lovely fiance from one of his more harebrained ideas.

“Clavis, the turkey is already taken care of,” you tell him, gently pushing his phone away. “Leon’s in charge of roasting the turkey.”

“Yes, but a turkapus is far superior to a boring, normal turkey,” Clavis scoffs. He takes a step closer to the cart with the damned turkey still in his hands.

You scowl and take a step back, pulling the cart back with you. “No, sweetheart, I already told them we’ll bring a green bean casserole so that’s what we’re going to do. That’s final.”

Clavis pushes out his bottom lip. It quivers like a sad, kicked puppy, and you wince, your heart aching to see him so disappointed, like a child who has just had their candy stolen. You hate saying no to the man. It kills you to say no to Clavis because you know how hard he tries, how much he enjoys bringing joy and laughter to those around him, and how much he cares. Generally, you don’t, but you have no choice in this situation. As his fiance, you have an unspoken duty to save his brothers from his culinary disaster.

You soften, sighing as you come around the cart to stand in front of him. “How about you make the turkapus just for me?” You place your hands on his pouting cheeks. “It can be our holiday tradition. A special dinner just for the two of us.”

Clavis perks up a little at your suggestion. “With the eyes and all?”

“Yes,” you nod, a small part of you wondering if you’ve just sentenced yourself to a lifetime of Christmas turkapuses, “with the eyes and everything.”

Clavis lights up, that look he gets when he’s scheming blooming on his boyish face. “And I can make the sides and the dessert?”

“Yes, you can make the sides and the dessert,” you reply, a resigned sigh escaping you. You’ve definitely sentenced yourself to a lifetime of abnormal Christmas dinners, but… you see the excitement glowing on Clavis’s face… you don’t regret it, not when it makes him this happy. “But for now, you need to put the turkey back,” you say firmly.

Clavis thinks for a moment, taking far more time than is comfortable. A twinge of nervousness flutters in your stomach, that he might not accept the offer.

“If you put the turkey back, I’ll show you just how much I love and appreciate you,” you hastily add, sweetening the deal.

“Bribing me with love, I see.” Clavis blinks, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “I think you should show me right now.”

“Right now in the supermarket?” 

Clavis nods eagerly, reminding you of a little boy on Christmas waiting to open his gifts. His puppy dog eyes look imploringly into yours, and your heart lurches, melting into a puddle.

Ugh… you can’t say no to him… outside of having to save his brothers from that silly turkapus.

Blushing, you rise onto your toes, planting a little kiss on his lips. “There’s more when we get home,” you whisper.

Clavis smiles like a fool. “Well then, I guess I better put a turkey back.” He returns the frozen bird back to the refrigerator case much to your relief. 

You move to go back to the cart, but freeze when his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you into his strong arms. “Clavis,” you squeak, your blush deepening and your eyes darting around the store, praying that no one’s watching this moment between the two of you. Your heart clamors in your chest when he brings his mouth close to your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

“I think we should go home right now, dearest,” he murmurs, his voice a thready, sultry whisper. “I’m dying to see just how much you love me.”

A tingle runs down your spine, stoking a fire deep within you, your breath hitching as you catch the heat spreading in his golden eyes.

You have everything you need to get, right?

Well, if you don’t, you’ll just have to make another trip to the store. After all, it’s just down the street. Shouldn’t be a problem at all…

Or so you rationalize.

[missaengg]

This so much!!! And on the not so good days, I end up re-writing what I have because that one sentence just doesn’t feel right only to come back to it the next day and wonder why I felt a need to change it in the first place -_-;

being a writer is wild

like there are some days where all the words click into place and the sentences flow like silk and then there are other days where your plot is undergoing radioactive decay and you're about to punch through your laptop screen in frustration

[missaengg]

Only for you, Jude. Only for you.

Now make me cry, damn it.

Jude...

*cough cough*

I'm sick...might need true love's kiss for this one...

*dramatically collapses*

*grabs you before you fall to the ground*

Hah, such a dramatic princess.

*brushes a finger over your lips*

Think it'd be fair if I gave ya what ya wanted right away?

[missaengg]

I’m always here, which is how I end up with a million half-written stories sitting on my computer 😂

That's where we're at today ya'll

[missaengg]

❤️❤️❤️

The Fated Macaron

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Yves Kloss, Licht Klein, Cassandra (OC); (Clavis X OC story AU)

Summary: After embarrassing herself in the palace ballroom, Cassandra meets two young men

Timeline: 2 years after Bloodstained Rose Day, 8 years before the "Belle" year.

Thank you @dododrawsstuff for the art piece of Cassandra with her friends. Be sure to check out her page if you haven't! She's amazing!

@aide-falls @candiedcoffeedrops You will hopefully enjoy this!

The Fated Macaron

Standing in the entryway to the palace ballroom, Cassandra Bellerose smoothed the pale pink fabric of her gown for the umpteenth time. This room alone was more regal and elaborate than even her family’s own ballroom. Crystal sconces lined the wall, casting a warm glow over the room and reflecting off the polished marble floors and gilded mirrors. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive perfume, and the hum of conversation buzzed like a hive of bees from behind the immense double doors before her.

She glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrors and frowned. Her emerald eyes, framed by long dark lashes, stared back at her, wide and anxious. They reminded her of a doe caught off guard in the woods. Freckles, a rare and despised trait among nobles, dotted the bridge of her nose despite her mother’s attempts to cover them with face powder. Her rosy cheeks, flushed from the nerves and heat of the room, seemed to expose her every nervous thought. She wore the family colors of pastel pink and gold, her gown a delicate confection of silk and lace that shimmered with every step. The dress was beautiful, but it felt like a stiff costume, a mask used to distract from her own flawed true personality. She noticed a stray strand of brown hair escaping her meticulously crafted updo, stubbornly refusing to stay in place despite her best efforts. Tucking it back with a sigh, she couldn't help but feel the familiar sting of insecurity. Was she pretty enough? Graceful enough? Worthy of the attention that would fall upon her and her family tonight? Would she embarrass them? Disappoint them? Fail them? Would the perfectly crafted mask slip and reveal her true self and ruin her family?

As she followed her family toward the broad doors, each step felt like she was walking a tightrope. The doors opened, and she watched as her sister and her husband stepped into the light and the herald announced them. “Presenting Comtess Evangeline Bellarose-Toussaint and her husband, Comte Tristan Toussaint.” Beautiful Evangeline glowed like the confident, radiant rose she was, and her handsome, aristocratic husband smiled as all eyes turned to look at them.

Cassandra knew she couldn’t even begin to compare to the beauty and perfect grace her sister personified. Still, she took a deep breath and stepped forward beside her parents. It was all she could do not to jump as the herald’s loud voice boomed beside them. "Presenting Marquess and Marchioness Bellerose and their daughter, Lady Cassandra Bellerose."

Her parents led the way, their posture perfect, their expressions serene. Cassandra, bringing up the rear, felt every gaze in the room turn towards them. The walls seemed to close in on her, but she kept her head high, the lessons drilled into her by her parents echoing in her mind. Be graceful, be poised, be perfect. Do not frown. And absolutely do not trip on your dress. The weight of their expectations pressed down on her, making her shoulders stiffen, but she forced herself to smile, her emerald eyes scanning the crowd. The room was filled with nobility; each face more resplendent than the last, adorned in jewels and silks that shimmered under the chandeliers. But all she wanted was to find a quiet corner where she could disappear, avoiding any chance of causing ignominy for her family.

As they made their way deeper into the ballroom, Cassandra's gaze drifted upward, taking in the grandeur of the space. Brilliant crystal chandeliers, each of their facets catching the light, cast a warm, heavenly glow over the entire room. They hung from a high ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, each depicting scenes of Rhodolitian myth and legend. The polished marble floors gleamed underfoot, reflecting the light in a way that made the entire room sparkle. The centerpiece of the floor was an elaborate mosaic of a rose, its petals unfurling in exquisite detail. Tall, arched, gilded windows, each framed in ornate gold, allowed the moonlight to stream in, adding a cool, silvery touch to the warm glow of the chandeliers and the myriad candles.

Everywhere she looked, there were fresh, fragrant roses adorning every surface, from the tables laden with fine china and crystal to the mantels and window ledges. The air was thick with their sweet scent, mingling with the more subtle notes of expensive perfumes the guests wore. It was a room designed and decorated to impress and awe, every detail meticulously crafted to create an atmosphere of elegance and splendor. Cassandra was in awe of the sheer beauty and opulence surrounding her. It was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, but her anxiety overshadowed her ability to appreciate it like she would have liked.

Her parents glided through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and nodding at acquaintances. Evangeline and Tristan followed suit, basking in the adoration and admiration of the other guests. Cassandra, however, felt like an imposter. Her fingers brushed the delicate emerald necklace at her throat, a gift from her parents meant to enhance her beauty and status. But all it did was remind her of the expectations she could never quite meet. The necklace, though beautiful, felt like a chain binding her to a role she had never wanted, a constant reminder of her family's relentless ambition and expectations—things that she couldn’t even begin to desire.

Her eyes scanned the crowd again, looking for any familiar face, any friend who might offer her a moment of genuine connection in this sea of superficiality. The room was a blur of pastel gowns and dark suits, each person more resplendent than the last, yet all blending into a tapestry of indifference.

She knew it was hopeless—it always was. Everyone who spoke to her did so because of her family’s status or to secure a good deal on gems from their mine. Since her debut earlier in the year, men had begun to shower her with attention, but it was all for her family’s wealth and title, not out of any real interest in her. The polite smiles and flattering compliments felt hollow, their words thinly veiled attempts to curry favor with her influential parents. And why wouldn’t they use her in such ways? The only ranks higher than her parents in the kingdom were the royal family and the dukes. With her sister married into a count’s family, her family's wealth and title would eventually fall to her and whichever man married her.

Cassandra's heart ached from it all. She longed for true, heartfelt affection, someone to see beyond the glittering facade and see her soul—a soul that burned with passion and fire. She wanted to be free to be herself, chase her dreams, and be with someone whom she could love deeply and thoroughly and who would love her just as much in return. She hated this world of calculated alliances and strategic marriage. She wanted not part of it. But what other choice did she have? Such dreams seemed naive and unattainable. The reality of her circumstances was suffocating, where her every move was scrutinized and her every word measured and where no part of who she truly was could ever be permitted or welcomed.

As the evening wore on, her thoughts became unbearable. Cassandra's pulse quickened, and she desperately sought an escape from the overwhelming crowd. She needed a quiet corner to collect herself. Her steps became more hurried, and her breath came in short, anxious bursts.

Just as she spied a quieter corner, she collided with a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. The tray tipped, and the delicate glasses tumbled to the floor, shattering with a loud crash at her feet. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, and suddenly, all eyes were on her. The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence deafening.

Cassandra's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel the weight of their stares, the judgment in their eyes. She dared to glance at her parents, whose faces were masks of polite disapproval, their perfect composure a stark contrast to her own flustered state.

Whispers of her clumsiness spread like wildfire through the room. She could hear the hushed words, the snide comments disguised as concern.

"Poor thing, always so awkward."

"Such a shame, considering her family's status."

"Perhaps she shouldn't have come out so soon."

Cassandra's vision blurred with unshed tears as she bent down to help the waiter pick up the shattered pieces. Her hands trembled, the sharp edges of the glass pricking her fingers. She forced herself to breathe and calm the storm of emotions within her.

A hand grabbed hers, squeezing gently. "My lady, I can take care of this. Are you alright?" the waiter asked, his voice filled with concern.

She nodded, unable to trust her voice, and managed a weak smile. "Yes, thank you. I'm so sorry."

As she stood, her gaze once again met the disapproving eyes of her parents. She could see the disappointment etched on their faces, a silent reprimand before they turned their noses up and walked away. Their scrutiny and judgment made it even harder to breathe.

Desperate to escape, Cassandra made a quick curtsy to the crowd before heading to the small alcove at the edge of the ballroom she had spotted before her collision with the waiter. The whispers followed her, but she forced herself to keep moving, however unsteadily, with her head held high, longing for a moment of solitude where she could gather what little remained of her composure.

At last, she pressed herself into the corner behind a large potted plant, desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. She took deep, shaky breaths, her fingers trembling as they traced the delicate emerald necklace at her throat. The fronds provided a fragile barrier between her and the bustling ballroom. Leaning back against the wall, she gazed up at the ornate ceiling, the intricate patterns blurring as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She felt like a fragile vase, carefully displayed and polished, yet always on the verge of shattering. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, shimmering like raindrops on the brink of falling.

The incident with the waiter replayed in her mind; the sound of splintering glass mingling with the murmurs of the guests, her parents’ dismay. Each one of their disapproving glances and words felt like a sharp dagger piercing her heart. 

Why do I care so much? She clenched her fists as her internal voice became harsh and unforgiving. Why does it matter what they think? Why do I try so hard to please everyone? But then, the reasons came flooding back, each one a tether that bound her to this life. The innate desire for her parents’ love and approval, the importance of the family name and it’s historical significance, and the fact that she was a seventeen year-old woman with no other prospects or ability to provide for herself. What other choice do I have? If she ran away, she'd be destitute, wandering the streets with no means to provide for herself. 

Over and over again, she reminded herself that this was her duty, her role to play, her only option, even if it felt like a prison. The thought of escaping, of living a life free from these constraints, was a tantalizing fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy. She was trapped in this gilded cage, her wings clipped by obligation and reality, the bars forged from the iron of familial duty and societal pressure.

Finally, she began to feel a little bit calmer. Taking a deep breath she peered through the fronds of the potted plant, her eyes landing on a young man standing by the dessert table. He was the picture of flawlessness in his elegant pink attire, exuding an aura of nobility and refinement. His outfit was impeccable, every detail meticulously arranged. The tailored pink coat, adorned with intricate gold embroidery, complemented his delicate and beautiful face. His honey-blonde hair framed his delicate, porcelain features, and his sparkling blue eyes held an air of aloofness. Despite his haughty demeanor, a subtle unease flickered in those eyes. He stood there, a delicate statue of perfection, yet there was a fragility in his stance, a hidden vulnerability that resonated with her own feelings.

Cassandra recognized the look in his eyes; it was the same unease she felt in social gatherings. Her heart went out to him. The urge to comfort him, to offer some semblance of understanding, welled up inside her. Maybe no one would help her out of her own situation, but helping others had always been her refuge, a way to distract herself from her own struggles and to make someone else’s day better.

Then she noticed something else about him. No one approached him, no one spoke to him. They glanced at him with a strange mix of judgment and unease. Once they had receded a few steps, they whispered. He remained aloof; the only sign he noticed was the faint movement of his Adam’s apple each time it happened. And suddenly, she felt even more akin to him.

As she watched, another figure joined him. Clad in blue and gold, his military-style outfit was simpler yet equally commanding. His silvery hair, tousled and slightly unruly, framed his pale, porcelain-like complexion and highlighted his sharp jawline and piercing red eyes. She couldn’t hear the words they spoke to each other, but he stood close to the blonde man, his eyes scanning the room with a protective intensity as he spoke. Despite his solemn, almost detached expression, there was a warmth in the way he stayed close to the first man as if giving him a sense of assurance.

Gathering her courage, Cassandra stepped out from behind the plant, her movements tentative. She reminded herself that helping others always made her feel better, and perhaps offering a kind word to these strangers would do the same. She made her way across the room, her eyes never leaving the blonde man. As she approached, she noticed the faint lines of tension around his mouth and the way his fingers fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. 

"These desserts look amazing, don't they?" she said, her voice soft, attempting to break the ice.

Both men turned their gaze to her. The blond one’s crystal blue eyes were wide and childlike before he narrowed them suspiciously. "If you’re going to compliment the desserts, at least have the decency not to spill anything on them," he replied, his tone brusque but not entirely unkind, as he turned back to the other man.

Cassandra felt a momentary sting at his words, but as she looked closer, she sensed something beneath his haughty exterior—almost like he was trying to hide his vulnerability. His eyes, despite their sharpness, held a flicker of uncertainty, a guardedness that intrigued her.

“I’ll be careful," she promised. “You seem to be guarding these sweets. If I didn’t know better…I’d think you had made them yourself.” She offered a gentle smile, hoping to break through his defensive facade.

Wide child-like eyes again, then a frown and rosy-red cheeks. “What did you say?”

The silvery-haired man beside him regarded her with a wary gaze. His striking red eyes seemed to bore into her as if he were assessing her intentions. Despite his guarded demeanor, Cassandra sensed a deep sadness and a fierce protectiveness in him, like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Who are you?" the silvery-haired man asked, his voice low and guarded, as though bracing for a threat.

"Cassandra Bellerose," she replied, striving to keep her tone light and non-threatening, yet she felt a twinge of anxiety under his intense gaze. "I didn't mean to intrude. I couldn’t resist these desserts. It's not often I get to enjoy such fine sweets."

As she appraised the table, her eyes landed on a perfectly pink macaron sitting on a plate like a tiny, edible jewel. The delicate confection was too tempting to resist. Just as her fingers brushed its surface, the blond man nearly jumped at her.

"How dare you!" he squeaked, his voice a pitch higher than she expected. The blond man’s eyes were wide with shock and indignation, his perfect features contorted in a way that was both intimidating and oddly endearing. 

Cassandra froze, the macaron poised precariously between her fingers near her mouth, her heart pounding in her chest.  She could feel the tension crackling in the air, and for a brief moment, she was sure he was going to grab a cake knife and end her life.  The vibrant ballroom seemed to fade around her, the chatter and music muffled as if submerged underwater.

"I’m sorry," she managed to stammer, her voice barely audible over the roaring in her ears. "I didn't realize...I just thought...it looked so delicious." Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe coming over here wasn’t her brightest idea. No wonder her parents were always so nervous when they brought her to social events. The vibrant ballroom seemed to close in around her, its opulence and grandeur becoming suffocating as she stood there, the weight of her social faux pas pressing heavily on her shoulders.

"Yves," the silver-haired man said, laying a hand on his companion’s shoulder with a calm, steadying presence. “She didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?” Cassandra asked, her hand trembling slightly as she tried to decide what to do with the macaron. The delicate treat now felt like a burden, her fingers itching to put it back.

Yves didn’t seem capable of speech, his face a fiery red, eyes wide with indignation. He looked utterly scandalized, and Cassandra could see his lips moving wordlessly, struggling to form a coherent sentence.

The silver-haired man’s crimson eyes landed on her. Despite his stoicism, she felt an unexpected kindness radiating from him. "Yves made that for me. He said it would be my reward for attending this ball," he explained, his voice low and measured yet carrying a warmth that put her somewhat at ease.

Cassandra felt her cheeks warm even more as guilt filled her chest. She looked at the macaron, its vibrant pink mocking her, and then back at Yves, whose mortified expression tugged at her heart. “I am so so sorry,” she said earnestly, her voice quivering. She extended her hand to return the macaron to the silver-haired man, her movements tentative and apologetic.

"It’s alright," he said gently, taking the macaron from her hand. "Yves puts a lot of effort into his baking, and it means a great deal to him. Thank you for understanding."

Cassandra nodded, feeling relief and lingering embarrassment. "I do understand. And for what it’s worth, it looks absolutely exquisite. You have a real talent," she said, offering Yves a smile, hoping to convey her admiration and regret for the misunderstanding.

Yves's cheeks remained flushed, the fiery red slowly fading as he finally found his voice. He took a deep breath, his eyes flickering between the macaron in the silver-haired man's hand and Cassandra's apologetic expression.

“It’s...fine,” Yves managed to say, his voice still edged with irritation but noticeably softer. He ran a hand through his blond hair, a gesture that seemed to steady him as he smoothed it. “Just...be more self-aware next time.”

Cassandra nodded fervently, her own cheeks still burning with embarrassment. “I promise. I didn’t mean to offend you. I truly admire the effort and skill it takes to create something like this.” She glanced at the pink macaron with a newfound appreciation for the care and precision behind its creation.

The silver-haired man gave Cassandra a reassuring nod, his crimson eyes conveying a silent message of understanding. “I’m Licht, by the way,” he said. “And this is my brother, Yves.”

Cassandra smiled, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease slightly. “It's a pleasure to meet you both.” She gave a small curtsy, hoping to convey her sincerity through the graceful gesture. “Again, I’m truly sorry.” 

Licht cleared his throat and reached out to take her hand in his. “We can share this.” He placed the macaron gently into her hand, his crimson eyes looking so soft and sincere, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was smiling.

Cassandra’s heart fluttered at the unexpected kindness. She met Licht’s gaze, feeling a strange connection form in the silent exchange. “I’d like that,” she said softly, breaking the macaron in half and offering one part to Licht. The delicate treat crumbled slightly in her hand, releasing a subtle fragrance of rose.

Licht took his half with a nod of thanks. Yves watched the exchange, his expression softening further as he saw kindness between them. 

As they each took a bite, the rich, floral flavors mingled on Cassandra’s tongue, and the macaron fairly melted in her mouth. “Mmm!” She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips. Yves truly was talented! “Rose and lemon…and is that a hint of lavender? I love lavender!”

Yves eyes widened, and his perfectly pink lips dropped open. “Yes it is. I can’t believe you could tell after one bite.”

Licht’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Everything Yves makes is really good.”

As he spoke, Cassandra noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—a longing, perhaps, for simplicity or joy. A sudden urge to understand him better and offer comfort or companionship welled up inside her.

"I believe it!" she exclaimed sincerely, her voice warm with appreciation as she turned back to Yves. "Baking requires a lot of skill and patience. You have quite the talent; this is the most delicious macaron I’ve ever tasted. And it’s so light and airy. I’ve never had success with making macarons, but I can make a mean mille-feuille.”

Yves’ cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red, making him look utterly embarrassed and, to her, even more endearing. He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief and handing it to her. "Here," he said gruffly. "You’ve got a bit of...something on your dress, Lady Cassandra."

Cassandra took the handkerchief, a bit startled by the unexpected kindness. "Thank you," she said, dabbing at the small spot she hadn’t even noticed. "You can just call me Cassandra, by the way."

"Don’t think this means you can just take whatever you want,” he stated, though his tone was much softer, almost teasing. “I’m very particular about who gets to eat my desserts and you’ve yet to pass the test."

She couldn’t help but smile at his haughty tone, sensing the warmth beneath his stern exterior. "I wouldn’t dream of it without your permission," she teased lightly, hoping to see more of his softer side.

His blush crept even higher up his cheeks, and he looked away. "Well, you’ve got my permission for now. Just don’t make a mess," he said turning back to her, his tone softer than before.

Cassandra took the last bite of the macaron, savoring the exquisite balance of flavors. The delicate shell gave way to a burst of rose and lavender, making her close her eyes and hummed to herself briefly in appreciation. 

She wanted to prolong the conversation and delve deeper into the lives of these intriguing strangers. But the crowded ballroom was stifling, and the weight of curious eyes felt like a tangible pressure on her shoulders. She glanced toward the tall windows, their glass panes reflecting the warm light of the chandeliers, and saw the garden beyond, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight. The thought of escaping to the tranquility of the garden, away from the prying eyes, was too tempting to resist.

"This room is getting rather stuffy," Cassandra said, her gaze shifting back to Yves and Licht. "Would you two like to join me for a stroll in the garden? It's much cooler out there, and we could continue our conversation..."

Yves looked hesitant, glancing at Licht for confirmation. Licht gave a barely perceptible nod, his expression unreadable. "Alright," Yves agreed, his tone begrudging but not unfriendly. "I suppose some fresh air wouldn't hurt."

What began as an attempt to make someone else feel good, to distract herself from her insecurities, had quickly blossomed into curiosity. She sensed that beneath their facades, these two young men harbored great depths of character. From Yves, she sensed a profound loneliness and vulnerability, carefully masked with his sharp tongue and haughty demeanor. Licht, on the other hand, exuded a subtle melancholy that intrigued her, hinting at a past filled with grief and unspeakable burdens. His silence and reserved manner suggested a heart that had endured far too much.

The cool night air was a welcome change from the oppressive heat of the ballroom, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. Cassandra found her heart opening up to them. She wanted to break through the walls they had built around themselves and offer something more genuine—friendship, perhaps, or understanding, whatever it was they needed. Her own struggles and her family’s expectations faded into the background. In that moment, she sensed a familiar yearning in them, one that mirrored her own desire for something deeper than the hollow exchanges of the ballroom.

Yves led the way to a secluded corner of the garden and a stone bench nestled under a flowering arbor. The scent of roses filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the garden. 

"It's so peaceful out here," Cassandra said, looking up at the stars twinkling above and inhaling deeply. "I feel like I can breathe properly for the first time all evening." She settled onto the bench, gesturing for Yves and Licht to join her. 

Licht remained standing, his posture relaxed but alert, while Yves took a seat beside her, his expression softening slightly. The moonlight bathed his features, making the tension lines around his eyes less severe. "It is less insufferable out here," Yves remarked, his voice quieter. "I can't stand these grand events."

Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Neither can I. It's all so...overwhelming at times. But it's nice to meet new people, especially when they're as interesting as you two."

"You have very peculiar taste," Yves remarked, his voice carrying a touch of dismissiveness.

Cassandra laughed softly, feeling more at ease. "Well, I mean it. You both seem so...genuine. It's rare to find that in these circles."

Licht, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "You're not like the others," he said, his tone contemplative. "You're different."

Cassandra looked up at him, surprised by the observation. "Different how?"

Licht's red gaze was steady, piercing. "You actually care. Most people here are only interested in appearances and status. But you...you're sincere."

Cassandra felt a blush rise to her cheeks and a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude swell within her. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means a lot. I don’t want to be like them.” She gestured towards the glass doors where they could see the nobles dancing. “Honestly, I feel out of place. I don’t want to lose who I am or what I feel…” but she trailed off and bit her lip. She was starting to talk too much, revealing too much of her inner emotions.

"It's exhausting, pretending to be something you're not,” Yves stated softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. 

Licht nodded solemnly. 

“With us, you can just be yourself," Yves assured her, his voice softening with warmth.

Cassandra smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thank you." As the words left her lips, she felt a rush of vulnerability, almost embarrassed by how quickly she had opened up to them. The sincerity in their eyes reassured her, but the sudden rawness of her emotions left her feeling exposed.

As if sensing her discomfort, Yves cleared his throat. "So, Cassandra," he began, his tone taking on a conversational lilt, "what's your favorite dessert? I assume someone who enjoys sweets as much as you must have a preference."

Cassandra blinked at the unexpected question. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she was grateful for the diversion. "Oh, that's a tough one," she replied,  a smile forming on her lips. "I think I'd have to say lavender shortbread cookies. There's something about the delicate floral flavor combined with buttery sweetness that I just love."

Yves's eyes lit up with interest. "Lavender shortbread cookies, huh? A unique choice. Maybe... maybe you'd like to join us for afternoon tea next week? I could make some for you then." His cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink once again and he glanced away as if regretting the hasty invite.

"I'd love that." Cassandra's smile widened, feeling overjoyed at the invitation to spend more time with them. "And what about you, Yves? What's your favorite dessert to make?"

Yves leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed up at the night sky. "I enjoy making all sorts of desserts, but if I had to choose, I'd say éclairs. There's something satisfying about getting the choux pastry just right and filling them with rich, creamy custard."

"Yves's darioles are my favorite," Licht, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. 

The conversation flowed more easily after that. They shared stories, laughter, and even moments of comfortable silence. Yves’s sharp wit and Licht’s quiet strength became increasingly apparent, and Cassandra found herself drawn to their authenticity. The garden, with its fragrant roses and whispering trees, became a haven for them, a place where they could be themselves without the pressures of the ballroom. Cassandra felt an even stronger connection forming, a friendship that seemed to blossom under the stars.

It was only later, however, when a passing servant bowed deeply and addressed Yves and Licht as "Your Highnesses," that the realization dawned on her. Her eyes widened in shock, and she turned to them, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're...you're princes?"

Yves gave her a rueful smile, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I suppose we forgot to mention that part."

"Does it matter?" Licht's expression remained unreadable as he watched her with his crimson eyes, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his silver hair. 

Cassandra shook her head quickly, a smile spreading across her face. "No," she said softly. "It doesn't matter at all."

As they continued their walk through the moonlit garden, Cassandra felt a warmth spread through her, grateful for the unexpected camaraderie and the genuine interest they had shown in her. The night seemed to wrap around them like a comforting blanket, making her feel, for the first time in a long while, truly at ease. Under the starlit sky, she had found kindred spirits in the most unexpected of places, and for the first time in a long while, she felt hope for what the future might bring.

[missaengg]

He’s right, it’d be more fun if he teases and torments you first before giving in.

But damn, what a tease.

Jude...

*cough cough*

I'm sick...might need true love's kiss for this one...

*dramatically collapses*

*grabs you before you fall to the ground*

Hah, such a dramatic princess.

*brushes a finger over your lips*

Think it'd be fair if I gave ya what ya wanted right away?

[missaengg]

Hahaha 🤣 Hi NSA/FBI/some gov agency— if you’re seeing this, I promise you, I’m just a writer and not some crazy murderous degenerate! kthxbai. 😅😂🤣

how to spot a writer:

unhinged google search history

crying over fake people

owns 200 notebooks (they're all empty)

[missaengg]

Yay~ 🥰😍🥰🤭 I’m just gonna stay here for a while. *snuggles*

How do you always manage to be so happy and positive? You're a ray of sunshine☀️

Hm? Well, my secret is simple.

I lie to myself♡

Every day, I wake up, and say everything will be okay

But I'm lying.

[missaengg]

I think I need a hug and a kiss to feel better 😭👀

How do you always manage to be so happy and positive? You're a ray of sunshine☀️

Hm? Well, my secret is simple.

I lie to myself♡

Every day, I wake up, and say everything will be okay

But I'm lying.

[missaengg]

Please don’t check my Google search history… just don’t…

how to spot a writer:

unhinged google search history

crying over fake people

owns 200 notebooks (they're all empty)

[missaengg]

NO!! This is too sad!!! Ellis 😭

How do you always manage to be so happy and positive? You're a ray of sunshine☀️

Hm? Well, my secret is simple.

I lie to myself♡

Every day, I wake up, and say everything will be okay

But I'm lying.

[missaengg]

Dari's favorite🤭

ft. Kate's tortured cheeks