#and i am only starting to feel normal now

[cerisahh]

summary — love language headcanons for the arcane characters (giving and receiving)

characters included — jinx, ekko, silco, vander, viktor

cerisa speaks — literally started writing this the night of s2 act 3 release and only now finishing it if that doesn't tell you something about how inconsistent i am idk what does. ATTENTION PEOPLE IN MY REQUESTS!! i swear to god i will do your request in the next year for sure! viktor forgive me, amen.

jinx — gift giving. jinx's most loyal companion is her imagination so it isn't hard for her to think of gifts that are personal to you that'd you'd enjoy.

we see many of the little homemade trinkets that she's made for silco throughout the years, my favourite being the ashtray he keeps on the desk in his office. so dependant on what you're into, she'll showcase her love for you in the form of a trinket.

oh, so you like to read? she sees you dog-earing a page of your book whilst you two are in her hangout and drops her current project to fashion you a bookmark. you only notice that her tinkering has stopped when the bookmark has been dropped on your lap and she's made a blasé comment about you destroying your book for too long so she just had to make you this so you'd stop.

hiding behind a mask of indifference when giving out her gifts is kind of her thing, but she's anxious to no end to see if you like it. her mind runs a mile a minute; 'don't they like it? do the colours not match? they hate it they hate it theyhateittheyhateittheyhateme-'

until you're holding it carefully between your fingers and your mouth is making that 'o' shape it does when something unexpected has happened. when you say that it's the most thoughtful gift you've ever received she's insistent on making you a hundred more.

physical touch. stop booing me i'm right! let me explain. as we see before powder becomes jinx, she's quite normal with physical contact, we see vi hugging her, putting a hand on her shoulder, claggor helping her down to the apartment, etc.

it's after vi slaps and abandons her that she becomes uncomfortable with physical touch. silco (most of the time) lets her initiate it on her own terms.

one time he doesn't is where she's playing airplane with his shimmer device and he grabs her wrist. she lets him retain his grip for a moment but when she does move her arm away he doesn't follow her. through my own delusions i've come to the conclusion that jinx wants, maybe even craves physical comfort, but quickly feels smothered by it when it's forced on her.

despite this, with the right person i feel like she would be willing to accept physical affection from them. it would take time to establish and develop a trusting relationship with jinx but when you're there, you're there. she's also a deeply insecure person when it comes to relationships of any kind and retaining them so you'll have to slip in some words of affirmation between touches.

her favourite way to receive physical touch would for sure be you playing with her hair. running your fingers through it and scratching her scalp? congratulations, that's your new job. you mention off the cuff how you'd love to see her hair down? suddenly there's a brush in your hands and an expectant and giddy jinx sitting in front of you.

even though she trusts you, she'll still get startled and tense up if you suffocate her with too much affection. holding your arms out for a hug or patting the seat next to you so she can lean into your arms is a much better way to initiate contact with her.

a little extra headcanon, when she's doing your nails she'll use her own hands to hold your fingers still instead of a wrist rest. she says it keeps them steadier so she doesn't make any mistakes but really she craves that subtle contact.

ekko — acts of service. season two episode seven dictates this as canon i'll be taking no arguments on this day. seeing his huge mural of future vi to show powder after he upsets her really just cements this headcanon. this is a pretty big action so i'll focus on the smaller ones for now.

starting off really strong with him decorating your room for you. close your eyes and imagine him building you a shelf to store your books or keepsakes. not only building it but carving designs into it. ohh you like music? well take a look at those carvings of sheet music! and do you spy some new books in your collection (stolen from a piltover library, naturally)

with so many different types of people living at the tree, at the beginning he was pretty much forced to learn how to cook all different types of meals. it paid off though because no matter where you hail from, he'll be able to prepare you any of your favourite dishes.

the more i type about ekko the more i realise he is the best househusband out of the arcane gang. he can cook, he can clean, he's a provider - he is quite literally the entire package. him being a certified pretty boy also helps because everyone needs a little eye candy in their life.

this one is sickeningly sweet but for relationship milestones, and even just randomly, ekko will fully plan out a date night for the two of you. picnics on the top of buildings that overlook the neon lights of the undercity, just the two of you. it's so intimate.

physical touch. now this i truly will be taking no arguments on. receiving physical affection for ekko is huge. we all saw how fast he hugged benzo in the alternate au!!

with so many people from his early life either dying (benzo, vander, claggor, mylo) or leaving (jinx and vi), ekko hasn't really had anyone to offer him any form of closeness. sure, he has the firelights. it just isn't the same though.

so when you come along with all the tender hugs and fond touches that he's been deprived of for so long he knows he's done for. consider him addicted. even just clapping a hand on his shoulder after a fight, hell, LEANING ON HIM?? that man is YOURS to command for now until the end.

knowing you're just physically there and not going anywhere - not abandoning him - he's content to bask in your presence.

quick kisses and brief glances at each other come in abundance. if you're not at the firelights base then you're on the go. it's these times that make you both appreciate the time you have with each other. ekko plans to take full advantage of the downtime you both have between missions. don't expect to stray a few feet from each other.

silco — acts of service. silco's acts of service are usually communicated through orders that he gives his goons. say you offhandedly mention that some shimmer addicts have set up camp in the alley next to your apartment. when you leave the last drop and go home you notice that those shimmer addicts you briefly complained about? gone. without a trace.

i feel like he prefers to give out acts of service to you as a kind of 'i can provide for you, don't leave' kind of thing. you don't need to ask silco to do something, he'll take the initiative. he wants you to view him as a reliable provider. this sounds very 50s but he's an old fashioned kind of guy so it checks out.

not the kind of guy to do chores at the start i'm afraid. he has people for that. maybe you can convince him to wash the dishes after you cook you, him and jinx a meal. but never and i mean NEVER will you catch this man hoovering or mopping the floor. that is just simply not going to fucking happen. you'd have better luck asking him to quit smoking.

not gonna lie he just lightens the load of whatever jobs you need to do so you can spend more time together. the famed eye of zaun is clingy.

physical touch. actually controversial take no way CHILLS! similarly to jinx, silco wouldn't actively look for physical touch in any given situation. he's obviously traumatised by his former best friend choking him out and drowning him underwater. not to mention completely brutalising his eye.

jinx is likely the only person he would willingly let touch him. not even sevika on a good day gets that privilege. you would need to spend a lot of time gaining silco's undying trust. only when you two are emotionally close will you be able to share his touch.

buying you jewellery just so he can feel the warmth of your body heat as he clasps the necklace around you neck. silco is very subtle and sneaky when he wants to be close to you.

his neck is off limits to everyone, even you. placing your hand on his collarbone whilst entangled in bed together is the furthest you'll get.

vander — physical touch. oh i just know this man gives the best bear hugs. physical intimacy with vander is just safety incarnate. when he takes you into his arms it really feels like a breath of topside air after a lifetime underground.

i don't think vander would really like being with a partner that didn't enjoy physical affection. it's not only a bonding experience for the both of you to engage in but also a display of trust that he deeply values.

conveying his love for you with intimacy, non-sexual and sexual is something he cherishes. the level of mutual understanding and relationship building that comes with it is indispensable to vander. basically the keys to a successful partnership with him.

that little symbol of love in the undercity where two people touch their foreheads together? that's the most significant way you can show that you truly care for someone and it's vander's favourite way to connect with you in moments of peace.

words of affirmation. vander is the type of guy to not necessarily need words of affirmation to feel good about himself but will appreciate it all the same. he tries so hard to be a good example to the kids and in general to the populace of the undercity. he wants this life to be better. he wants to be better.

he's the leader, the protector, all the pressure is on him. affirming his efforts through words goes further than you might think.

it's you and him against the world. the brewing political storm that plagues both the undercity and piltover is little more than a distant thought when you're whispering honeyed words to and fro in the dead of night. for a man with such an imposing presence, telling him that you love and need him makes him weak.

with your words of affirmation, he's more certain of his role in the undercity than he's ever been. you renew the passion he had in youth, he wants the best for you and will do whatever he can to obtain it.

viktor — quality time. viktor is all about sharing the same space as his partner. with him being the co-founder of hextech, it's difficult for him to find time alone to dote on you. which is why you''ll often find yourself in the company of viktor (and oftentimes jayce) in their lab, them working on a new use for hextech, and yourself either studying or simply watching the magic (literally) happen.

when jayce is off being the poster child of hextech or following councillor medarda around like a lost puppy, you and viktor will settle into comfortable silences. usually with the only noise being the tinkering of science equipment or the quick scribbles of pen on paper. there's no pressure to fill the room with unnecessary chattering. just you being with him is enough. your presence is akin to a relaxant to him.

sometimes most of the time you'll need to remind him to take breaks when you've been there for hours on end and he's showing no signs of stopping or slowing down. it's a practised routine at this point; he refuses, you leave it alone for five minutes, during this time he is sneaking glances at you when he thinks you aren't looking, waiting for you to ask again.

when you do, he feigns reluctance as you grab his hand to get you both some fresh air and a proper meal. he might actually be part cat now that i'm thinking about it. he just can't help but love spending time with you.

words of affirmation. actions speak louder than words? pft, yeah right. communication is deeply valued by viktor. he's exceptional at deducing someone's intentions behind their words so don't even bother trying to get something by him. it won't work. you try to plan surprise birthday party for him? he's one of the first people to find out about it.

so when you earnestly tell him how special he is to you or how appreciative you are of him, he knows it's 100% what you actually think and BOY does that fluster him more than anything.

he isn't very big on compliments, not that he doesn't value the ones you so willingly give him, but he finds it hard to accept the good and beauty you see in him. there will always be a part of viktor, machine herald or mortal man, that refuses to believe he could be good enough for this type of love. when he retracts inside his mind and lets his doubt drown him, it's you who can pull him out of the water and onto land. telling him that you love him just the way he is will silence his uncertainty.

oh you know what would just about finish him off? making him a lunch box and putting a note in there. it doesn't having to be something poetic, even a simple 'i love you ♡' will be at the forefront of his mind until he gets back home to you.

honestly, if you're someone who expresses their love through words of gratitude or proclamations of admiration then a relationship with viktor will be smooth sailing.

[rose24207]

Mafia lando smut where reader was mad at him from an argument the other day, so she spends heaps of money on his bank account. He doesn’t find out till the bank calls to make sure it wasn’t fraud. And he punishes her

Stress Shopping

Summary: After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: arguing, spending way too much money

A/N: loved the idea but I changed it a little! Hope you don’t mind! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the mansion, shaking the antique fixtures on the walls. You stomp into the grand foyer, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your anger palpable in the air. Lando's sharp voice follows you, his British accent more clipped than usual.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, love!" he barks, his footsteps quick behind yours.

You spin on your heel to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "What do you want me to do, Lando? Stand there and listen while you talk to me like I’m one of your employees? Like I’m beneath you?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles working as he clenches his teeth. He’s wearing that infuriatingly expensive suit you helped him pick out, and right now, you’d love nothing more than to rip it off him—not in the fun way. "I don’t treat you like my employees," he growls. "But I am in charge, and you seem to forget that sometimes."

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. "Oh, how could I forget? You love reminding me every chance you get."

Lando rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. Normally, the sight would make your heart soften, but right now, it only fuels your fire. "You’re being unreasonable," he snaps. "We had an agreement—"

"No, you had an agreement!" you interrupt, your voice rising. "I never agreed to this ridiculous, controlling nonsense, Lando."

His amber eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it," he warns, his voice low now, like a storm about to break. "You’re pushing me, and you know I don’t like being pushed."

But you’re too far gone to care. "And I don’t like being treated like some trophy wife who needs to follow orders. I’m done with this conversation."

Without waiting for his response, you grab your purse from the console table and march toward the front door. His voice chases after you. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you snap. "Don’t wait up."

Before he can stop you, you’re out the door, the evening air cool against your flushed skin.

The mall is your sanctuary. Under the glow of bright lights and the hum of happy chatter, you lose yourself in racks of designer clothing, rows of shoes, and glass cases of sparkling jewelry. Lando's black card burns a comforting weight in your purse, and tonight, you intend to make full use of it.

You start at Chanel, swiping the card for a pair of heels and a matching bag without so much as glancing at the price tag. Next is Cartier, where a sleek watch catches your eye. After that, you make your way to Dior, where a silk gown feels like the perfect antidote to your frustration.

Each purchase soothes the ache in your chest, replacing anger with satisfaction. By the time you leave the mall, your arms are laden with bags, and the backseat of your car is filled to the brim with boxes and tissue paper.

But your phone buzzes just as you’re pulling out of the parking lot. You glance at the screen and see Lando’s name flashing. You don’t answer.

Back at the mansion, Lando is pacing his study, his phone pressed to his ear. The man on the other end clears his throat nervously before speaking. "Mr. Norris, this is Daniel from Barclays. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your account and wanted to confirm if your card has been compromised."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "What kind of activity?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"A series of high-value transactions," Daniel replies. "Chanel, Cartier, Dior... altogether totaling a little over seventy thousand pounds. Should we freeze the card?"

Lando smirks despite himself, shaking his head. "No, Daniel," he says, his tone resigned. "It’s just my wife... throwing a tantrum."

There’s a brief silence on the other end. "Ah," Daniel says finally, clearly unsure how to respond. "Very well, sir. Shall we flag the transactions as authorized?"

"Yes," Lando says. "And don’t call again unless it’s life or death."

You return home hours later, your anger dulled by exhaustion and the satisfying sight of your new purchases. You push open the door to the mansion, your arms laden with bags, only to find Lando waiting for you in the foyer. He leans against the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

You ignore him, stepping past him with your head held high. But before you can make it far, he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Don’t ignore me," he says softly, dangerously.

You whirl around to face him, the fire in your eyes reigniting. "What do you want, Lando? To scold me for spending your money? Go ahead—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of lectures lined up."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady on yours. "It’s not about the money," he says. "You know that."

"Then what is it about?" you demand. "Because I’m tired of fighting with you over every little thing."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he speaks. "It’s about us," he says. "About you running off every time we argue instead of dealing with it. You think throwing my money around is going to make things better?"

"It made me feel better," you snap, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

"Fine," he says, his voice cold now. "If that’s what you want—things, clothes, jewelry—then take it all. But don’t pretend it’s going to fix what’s wrong between us."

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. "Maybe if you treated me like your wife instead of your possession, we wouldn’t have these problems," you say quietly.

Something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe. But he doesn’t respond, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heel and head upstairs, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.

Hours later, you’re sitting in the walk-in closet, surrounded by your purchases. The excitement you felt earlier has faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sigh, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the Dior gown, wondering if you went too far.

A knock at the door startles you, and before you can respond, Lando steps inside. He looks tired, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. In his hands, he’s holding a small box tied with a black ribbon.

"I brought you something," he says, his voice soft.

You raise an eyebrow. "More things? Haven’t I spent enough of your money today?"

He ignores your sarcasm, setting the box down on the bench beside you. "Open it," he says.

Curious despite yourself, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate necklace, a simple gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s nothing like the flashy pieces you bought earlier, but somehow, it feels more special.

"It’s not to bribe you," he says quickly, as if reading your mind. "I just... I wanted to remind you that I don’t care about the money or the fights. I care about you.“

You look up at him, your heart softening. "You have a funny way of showing it," you say, though your tone lacks its earlier bite.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I know," he admits. "I’m not perfect, and I don’t always know how to handle you when you’re upset. But I’m trying, love. I promise I’m trying."

For a long moment, you say nothing, letting his words sink in. Then, finally, you reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "I’m sorry too," you say. "I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It wasn’t fair to either of us."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. "So... we’re okay?" he asks, his voice tentative.

You smile softly. "We’re okay."

The next morning, you wake up to find Lando already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted and his usual confidence back in place. He leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he says. "And I told the bank not to call me again if you go on another shopping spree."

You laugh, pulling the covers over your head. "Good. Because I might need a few more things."

He chuckles, his hand brushing against your hair. "Just try not to spend the GDP of a small country next time, yeah?"

You peek out from under the covers, grinning. "No promises."

And for the first time in days, everything feels right again.

Thank you for reading!

[kaislvves]

IN WHICH; you and kaiser get into an argument over a stupid reason which leads into a hard launch after his match.

a/n: do NAWT speak to me about how unrealistic the last scenes are. i KNOWW how crazy fans can be and they’d probably be mauling/trampling you guys to death😭 also say no to telling me to put my ear to your mouth and listen what you have to say (kaz ref…) only to tell me this is ooc leave me alone pls. & not proofread lolz

cw: swearing, arguments -> making up, my writing

“i could stay for tonight.”

it was sickening coming from your tongue because kaiser knew he didn’t want you only for tonight. he’s coming close to crushing you with how hard he’s squeezing your body like he never wants you to leave.

“just for tonight?” is a question he poses. the air around you two remains silent and it angers him—are you thinking about an answer? for there is no other answer than accepting defeat and staying in his arms, forever.

you try squirming around to wiggle your way out of his hold because it was getting warmer than you’d like it to be. “yes, micha. just for tonight.” you start whining at this point but he does not budge no matter how hard you try. he’s only growing more irritated by your response paired up with the nickname you call him to be affectionate.

affectionate his ass—you’re basically admitting you hate him. as much as he loves being seen as an enemy in others’ eyes, he hates when you perceive him in such a manner. “don’t call me micha.” his huffing out and you can feel the vibrations in his chest

“okay mr. football prodigy.” your tease is muffled by his chest. in most situations, he’d take it as a compliment to feed his ego but he knows you’re deliberately trying to egg him on. and though he currently can’t see your face because of the position you guys are in, he swears he can feel your eyes rolling at him.

“i still have a life… and a job.” now it’s your turn to get fed up by his behavior. “am i not your life?” he’s sounding like you genuinely just offended his whole bloodline and hell, maybe even very distant ancestors. you want to say he’s joking but judging by experience, he most certainly isn’t.

one thing you understood when you first started dating him was that he would not give up his career for you and using the same logic, you didn’t have to either. now can some mind reader tell you why this is happening? why is he being so stubborn about this in particular? not like kaiser isn’t dramatic or stubborn most of the time but he’s never been this stubborn over a matter like this.

“michael that’s not… i just—i can’t just give everything up for you.” oh, now you���re calling him by his full first name? perhaps that wasn’t the best way to word it because you feel grip shifting to the back of your head to keep it in place, he does this because he doesn’t want you seeing his face. “why not?” he barks a lot quieter than he normally does.

“what do you mean by ‘why not’? this has been my life, even before i met you.” you try holding in the scoff that you were trying so hard to avoid but it’s obvious now.

as if it wasn’t already tense but it feels like it bloomed into a raging silence. you believe he’s thinking of an answer but in reality, he isn’t. he’s thinking about anything else other than him opening his mouth because only the heavens know what words would spew out of his mouth if he were to—imagine how worse he’d make this petty argument.

you hate this.

you hate silence.

you hate him being silent.

and you make the dumb decision to add salt to the injury—the one thing kaiser didn’t want to do. “do you actually want to argue about this? if so, i’m not staying at all.” there you go, saying things you don’t actually mean. “do you mean that?” oh he actually responded. you did try to choose your words carefully but your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.

“and if i did?” you’re lying through your teeth, but he takes the bait.

that was what unlocked his vile mouth that should be censored on television after losing a match. “you really are annoying, you know that? i hope you didn’t because i didn’t know that either when i started liking you. or were you just leading me on? i don’t care if you aren’t staying anymore. just fucking leave.” he’s lacing his words with cyanide.

he’s second guessing his thoughts of wanting you to stay forever if you were just going to be acting like that. his grip on you is finally loosening and it’s easier to slide right past his arms. you take the chance and peak at his face. it wasn’t the look you want to see on him normally but it is justified in this situation. he has a scowl on his face but he still looks so pretty like this. he’s looking at you too, albeit not with the admiration you’re doing.

it isn’t the best idea to stay silent and so you don’t.

“fine then.” you say while walking away from him to head towards the entrance and like expected, he doesn’t follow you. you take the bag from the front-door rack and slip on the shoes he gifted you.

you spare no time opening the door, not even glancing back when you shut the door as well. kaiser is the one looking, glaring at the back of your head before you disappear behind his door. after he knows you’re off completely, he goes over to lock it shut but also ends up smelling the slight scent of your perfume floating in the air.

looks like you won’t be staying tonight anymore. and now that this happened, will you ever? did he want you to?

this argument could have been so minor if both of you had just sucked it up.

were you still together? it didn’t end in clear closure, just him telling you to leave and you did.

did you still want this? did he still want this?

in all honesty, he just wants you. no matter what form, no matter what, he still wants to say he knows you. it didn’t have to be this way.

safe to say neither of you had good sleep that night.

kaiser has many ways to express his aggression. be it words, physical contact (past), or what he’s doing right now—football. he hasn’t contacted you ever since that day and you haven’t either. makes him question what he still is to you.

why does he care? if you don’t want to talk to him, neither do you. if you hate him, he hates you.

however, whenever he does take his anger out of the field, he dominates it. effectively becoming the king of the field. from the get-go it was obvious bastard munchen would win the match against some other team they were playing against.

you could tell too, setting aside the fact you were sitting pretty far from the game. what made you want to watch the match even if you thought he was probably your ex already? you didn’t know. it’s like you just gravitate towards the stupid rat tails man, he’s an annoying magnet to you now.

and like everyone betted on, bastard munchen did win.

the team immediately celebrates by huddling together, slapping each-others hands, carrying each-other, and what not? you unconsciously smile at the scene, it was small, you could still feel it but you couldn’t help it.

kaiser is celebrating with his team, being somehow lifted on-top of ness’ shoulders (which he is really annoyed at and he’s wondering how the fuck he’s doing that, what is wrong with him?). he ultimately scored the last goal they needed to win. it wasn’t a surprise because when he plays, he wants to—needs to—win.

despite that, his teammates couldn’t help but realize his anger, leading to yoichi asking him a question that makes kaiser want to choke the black-haired man on the spot.

“the hell was that?” he asks (referring the stupidly impossible goal kaiser was able to score, but you know… he doesn’t believe anything is impossible.) “i have a question for you too, yoichi. what the hell is that kind of question?” he’s laughing out, still on ness’ shoulders. but he’s laughing so hard his whole body starts to shake, making ness stumble a little.

still, yoichi was able to tell something was off.

“uh… what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

but before kaiser could answer that with going off on him, he’s being pulled into an interview.

what made that goal possible?

“it was never impossible.”

what do you feel after winning?

“as if we weren’t going to win.”

boring questions he didn’t want to answer but he was obligated to—for he was basically the star of the show, like always. that was until a certain question was asked that made him look around the stadium for the first time.

that was quite an impressive goal.

“of course.”

is there anyone you wanted to watch that shot?

he’s silent. he’s thinking of you as he gazes around the bleachers—embarrassingly thinking everyone has your face and accidentally making eye contact with crazy fans that go berserk when he does. the only reason he never looked before and during the match was because you wouldn’t be there.

what a desperate reason, right? row after row, he’s scanning every seat, even the ones that are empty and imagining you’re the one sitting in it. 3rd to the top row, he scanning and not expecting to see you.

the fuck? is that you?

is he looking at you? kaiser is looking in your direction and in the area you’re seated but you’re so high up you can’t tell and it’s very unlikely he is but he keeps staring. you’re awkwardly looking away and around your section to hide your face.

oh but he’s already gotten a look of the face he so desperately wanted to see and he’s not going to look away, nor will he stand in one place. like a lunatic who just escaped some mental hospital, he’s booking it from the interviewer who stands shocked.

oh ok... he totally saw you which defeats the total point of you sitting so far away, was he lying to you when he said his eyesight wasn’t the best? probably. anyway, that was your sign to also walk away.

screams of fans were deafening and you felt like your eardrums were going to burst anyway.

who cursed you? because it was such a coincidence that kaiser comes out the way you were going to exit. he didn’t count how many fans who were asking all sorts of things he ran past to get to you.

as soon as you saw his face, you tried playing it off cool and spun the other way to walk away but he was by no means dumb and he saw you do that. he clicked his tongue in annoyance.

it felt like when you ask your friends to chase you and they actually do and now you’re screaming your lungs out trying to outrun them. obviously it was futile because he was so much faster than you.

no words could explain how fucking loud the crowd was, first when he ran, second when he entered the spectator area, last (hopefully) when he hugged you tightly from behind, stopping you from running.

like that night, he was warmer than you’d like him to be. arms wrapped around your waist and his chin on your shoulder. “are you running away again?” he’s whispering into your ear and despite the crowd + the booming voices around you… ++ the paparazzi basically stomping on people to get a photo, he’s unbelievably close to your ear, you have no trouble in hearing him.

“kaiser.” you breathe out in the same shock the interviewer was probably in. “don’t call me that. answer my question.” he huffs—he hasn’t heard you call him that in for like… forever! (unless you count other arguments)

“should i want to run away?”

“i don’t want you to.”

the grip is getting tighter and it slightly stops you from breathing for a second. you don’t want to run away, you don’t hate him.

you were thinking the same as him, whether or whether not he still considered you his. but you know his ego is way too high for his own good so you do him a favor and ask him instead.

“are we still something?” you ask and it hurts him that you do—did you not think that anymore? his eye is twitching with uncertain emotions. “…tell me your answer first.” there’s hurt evident in his voice because he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions and hurt his ego even more than he already has fighting for his way to get to you.

“i don’t know, are we?” he’d flick your forehead with full power if he wasn’t trying to make up with you. it’s barely audible but you hear “i still want this.” a frown is on your face and he took it as a bad sign.

“i do too, micha.” you admit, he’s spiraling by how you say his name.

as much as he wants to say that he did want you to stay with him forever, that he didn’t want you to leave him, that he doesn’t actually find you annoying, that he loves you. he decides on doing only the second and last option because he’s kept himself, you, and the fans waiting far too long.

(you also wanted to say you didn’t mean it.)

he’s spinning you around to face him.

“don’t leave me, ever.”

he holds your hands in his, leaning forward to kiss you.

and though you guys still have so much to apologize, discuss, and everything in between… you both would rather leave that for a private matter. just stay in this moment, in his arms for now? if not forever.

oh and now you hoped this was the last time the crowd got as rowdy as it was.

GERMAN FOOTBALL PRODIGY; MICHAEL KAISER AND HIS SUPPOSED PARTNER MAKE IT PUBLIC! WHO IS THE LUCKY PERSON? EVERYTHING WE KNOW RIGHT NOW…

locknessmonster : bro wtf

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[nodoubtily]

MMMM THE WAY-

Fuck. The way I’d actually showcase my cunt to him.

TW:// smut so mdni! Switch!Sunoo x Switch!Fem!Reader, p in v, dirty talk, degrading as fuckkkk, possessiveness, talks of edging but not really detailed, not proofread as this was written at 1:11 am. UPDATE: proofread at 3:28 am

Not your fucking good boy.

“Please-“ he begs, his hands scrunching the bedsheets because you so cruelly won’t let him touch you. And normally he’d be a brat, but he actually wants to fucking cum.

“I don’t know. I feel like you can beg better then that.” You giggle, so happy he’s under your control. “You wanna cum?”

That question opens up a barrage of frustration-filled cries of desperation.

“Yes, oh god- please!” He begs as your hand speeds up around his shaft again before quickly letting go completely, denying yet another orgasm.

“Not good enough. Do you not want to cum? You don’t want to finally release?” You’re laughing, feigning a shocked expression.

“What do you fucking think?” His question stops your wrist moving, but he doesn’t really flinch. Instead, his larger hand grabs your wrist and flings it away from his cock, before moving up to your arm as he manhandles you under him. He straddles your stomach, annoyance covering his face. “Asking stupid fucking questions as if I haven’t been begging.”

He grabs your (his) shirt, pulling it off your body. Thankfully, you’re only wearing panties under, so your pretty breasts are on display. He then moves off you, ripping your flimsy panties off. You, out of instinct, go to close your legs when he wrenches them open, sliding himself in between, his hot throbbing cock resting on your clit.

“Sunoo- you’re not being a very good boy-“ your breath hitches as he slowly starts grinding over your crotch. “Right now.”

“Do you really think you’re in the position to say shit like that? I suggest you keep that dirty mouth closed before I put it to good use.” And for some reason, that shuts you up.

Sunoo pulls back far enough where his cock doesn’t touch your folds, until his fingers spread you entrance wide. With a quick thrust, he slams his dick straight in, quickly bottoming out. You exhale a whine elicited with pain mixed with pleasure. He just straight up groans.

“S-sunoo!” You gasp out, adjusting to him.

“Fuck, how is this pussy still so tight?” His voice is laced with whimpers he’s not afraid to let out.

“M-move.” Your hips don’t even get the chance to create fiction until Sunoo lowers, one hand clamped around your throat while the other comes to your face, fingers mushing your face as he stares into your soul.

“You aren’t making decisions anymore. All you can do now is lay here like the obedient slut you are and take my sensitive cock. It’s your fault I’m like this now.” After that, he begins moving, hips thrusting in short sharp japs, the sound of skin slapping against skin quickly filling the room. “Edging me, trying to make me beg as if I’m your fucking good boy.”

“You ar-are.” Your voice cracks, airway limited due to his hand grasping your neck like a necklace.

“And yet you’re not my good girl, are you?” The question irks you, wondering the last time Sunoo was like this. One particular thrust sends desperate vibrations straight to your pussy, clamping your walls tightly around his cock. “Fucking hell.” A breathy moan escaped from his chest. “This fucking pussy- is mine. All. Fucking. Mine- oh fuck.” Every word is followed with a hard thrust, jolting your body. “Who’s pussy is this?” He asks, feeling you squeezing him, signalling you’re going to cum shortly.

“M-mine.”

Sunoo stops moving, taking away the warm pleasure that’s been building. “Say that fucking again. I dare you.” His voice sounds dangerous, and you know better then to egg him on more. So you stay silent. That wasn’t going to suffice him either. “Who’s. Pussy. Does. This. Belong. To?” Short stabs abuse your g-spot. Pride and wanting to cum fight, but the latter wins.

“you. This p-pussy is yours.” More whines escape from Sunoo’s throat as he continues to relentlessly pound into you.

Sunoo scoffs. You went from smirking to begging quickly. “That’s right. Mine.”

@jyikeu THANKS FOR THE IDEA POOKIE

[jjunbug]

finally here hehe!! get ready for the absolute novel i’m about to drop in this reblog because you aren’t ready at all…

oh how i love the sheltered princess who’s desperate to see the real world who ends up meeting someone from said real world and finally feeling normal trope. it’s literally one of my favorites and it hits every single time. and lemme tell you, this HITSSSS. firstly, i’m obsessed with your writing. the prose is so gorgeous and i love the way each paragraph flows into another. secondly, you will pay for the pain you put me through, TRUST.

“Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?” MMMMMM… this line… i love it.

the bickering is so so good i love the way you write it!! them going back and forth, quick with their responses… hehe it reminds me of my lady jane. her and guildford was always bickering like this and it’s like the best part of the show!!

already immediately infatuated with yeonjun. like ooo tell me your story, archer hehehe~~ “Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed.” ????? i’m so curious. and the scar across his brow?? “a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse.” oh i’m tuned in!!!

AHHH THE SCENE WHERE HE SEES HER IN THE BALLROOM??? oh my god. the faltering and the recognition???? i’m literally on the edge of my seat stop. them thinking that they’ll never see each other again but here they both are?? and her being the princess of all people, part of the people who yeonjun absolutely despises… i love it. i love it so much.

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. “Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. SCREAMS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS. OH MY GOD. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly. “Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate.” AHHHHHHAHGHRRRAHEGRHWAHHHHH i have no words oh my god. the only person getting ruined is ME.

kai being so incessant on yeonjun teaching him how to shoot a bow and arrow is so cute and so funny to me. it’s like heartbreaking angst and then here comes kai with the papers😭😭

LORD TAEHYUNNNNNNNNN!!!!!

THE LETTERS. what if i started sobbing. what if i cried so hard and so much that i formed a new ocean. what if that ocean then formed a massive wave that destroyed everything. would you be able to deal with those lives on your hands? think about the greater cost here… i’m begging you… “The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.” THINK ABOUT THE WAVE AND THE LIVES OF THE PEOPLE WHO WILL BE CRUSHED. PLEASE.

“Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure.” this paragraph… i am broken.

“That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.” just got a cold chill… please girl… stay inside for my sake. DONT MAKE UNNECESSARY JOURNEYS!! DONT TAKE RISKS AND TREACHEROUS ROADS!!!! PLEASE… ITS A TRAP!!!!!!

“I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” kai what if i cried. MY SHAYLAAAAA

“He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else.” oh god… “You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” NOOOOOOOOOOO “But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

them in the garden… i need them to run away together like PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. forget what said earlier and run to the further country, to the further corner possible. I NEED THEM TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING. PLEASE RUN RUN RUN!!! and don’t look back!!!!!!!

“A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun.” NOOOOOOOOOO

“A bloodstained arrow.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT THE FUCK NOOOOOOOOO MY SHAYLAAAAA😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 i’m literally about to start crying WHAT THE FUCK.

“Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.” i’m sorry but i laughed so hard… like😭😭 “oh wait” LMAOOOOO

“The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness.” YESSSSSSS RUN LIKE THE FUCKING WIND!!!!!!!

…….WHY WOULD THEY GO BACK TO THE CABIN????????

“To the family of HueningKai,” OH IM JUMPING OFF A BRIDGE.

“They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.” YESSSSSSSSSS‼️‼️‼️ you don’t understand how happy i am that they got their happy ending, even if it was a little bittersweet. i was seriously scared there for a second omg…

kai… my shayla……. sobs and cries and bangs head against a concerte wall. YOU DIDNT DESERVE YOUR FATE😭😭😭

FUCK THE VILLAGERS. FUCK THE GUARDS. FUCK THE NOBLES. FUCK THE KINGDOM. FUCK THE KING. FUCK THE QUEEN. AND FUCK TAEHYUN‼️‼️‼️‼️ beomgyu you’re cool

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you��it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ chapter i: ahoy! ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

warning: slight cussing, time travel confusion.

main masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.

The next day you wake up, you felt weird textures coming up to your nose. It felt like… dust. You woke yourself up by sneezing hard, first sneeze of the day. What else felt off? It was your room that was being quiet different… Scratch that, it was completely different from when you slept on last night. The room that Mrs. Byers made you sleep in for the rest of your exchange days, the once nice purple room with soft bed, now turned into a horrifying, messy, and filled with dust.

You unlocked your phone to look for any notifications

9.13 P.M. Friday, 27th June 2025 No new notifications

P.M? But the sun is literally shining outside? And Friday is yesterday... Today's supposed to be Saturday? Things are starting to feel off, so you stood up and went out of the house.

The once beautiful house seems to be... Abandoned, now. All glass are falling out of it's place, boards covering some of the window and doors. It looks like there's no one ever lived on this place. You kept looking around in confusion as you went out of the house, coughing like a sick maniac.

"What the hell?"

You started walking down the neigborhood, passing all these big houses along the way. This still looks like Hawkins, though... But, something feels different. Seeing all the people dress weirdly like they're in some kind of cosplay event.

As you kept walking, the town starts to get crowded. Looking at these people give you the creeps, but what actually gives you the chills are the fact that lots of people stare at you as you walk. You don't feel like you're dressing weird, you feel normal. Black T-shirt, baggy jeans, and red converse, with a dark red flannel, yet these people just can't take their eyes off your, like you just comitted some murder.

𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖⋆.ೃ࿔*:･✧˖°.

You saw a building in front of you.

STARCOURT MALL

A neon sign says above the mall's entrance. The neon signs was already lit up even though it was still... Probably like 10 or 11 A.M? You don't really know what time is it now, since the clock on your phone basically stopped at 9 at night.

The whole vibe of the mall felt off. It’s like… you’re in the backrooms… Might as well watch too much TikTok videos, you thought. But, you were actually convincing yourself that al this doesn’t seem right. It felt like a dream. Well, at least your phone’s clock stopping is a sign that you’re dreaming, it doesn’t make any sense, right?

The mall was filled with people and shoppers of all ages, it was like the mall was just opened a couple of days ago. You really want to ask the people here about where you are and why do these people dress weirdly.

scratch that.

You only want to ask about where you are right now. Even though this whole places does look like Hawkins, but it doesn’t feel like Hawkins. Sadly, your urge to ask the people around you isn’t strong enough, compared by how these people look like they’re enjoying their time at the mall. You don’t wanna be some party pooper who just ask random people a nonsense question and ruin their mood. Until finally, you found a not-so-busy ice cream store.

The yellow colored sign with blue background, that was surrounded by red light edges says

SCOOPS AHOY ice cream parlor

You saw a guy, leaning on the counter, as if he’s so done with his job. You decided to ask the guy about your question(s) earlier since he doesn’t look so busy.

“Ahoy, there! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain… I’m Steve Harrington.”

His sudden ice cream jingle scared the shit out of you, it made you widening your eyes at him.

“Hi, uhm… mind telling me where am i now?”

"You're in Scoops Ahoy Ice Cream Parlor, ma'am... How may I help you?" The man answered your stupid question with a bored tone. Geez, he must hate his job so much, huh?

"No, I mean... Where am I excatly now?"

The man in front of you squinted his eyes, like he's being suspicious with me.

"You're in Hawkins, Indiana. The United States of America." He responded once again, as if I have no idea where Hawkins is. So this is actually Hawkins? Indiana? Why so different?

You looked around the ice cream shop, leaving the man staring at you in confusion. You pay attention to every detail in it like some kind of detective trying to solve a murder mystery, even if you can still feel the man's eyes on you through your every move.

"Ma'am, are you okay? You need help with anything?"

"No, no... I'm fine, don't worry." Your voice says otherwise, though.

Your eyes finally stopped at the box shaped television on the counter, showing a news broadcast about the newly builded mall, this Starcourt Mall.

"...the year 1985 will surely be a memorable year for us, the people of Hawkins, getting a chance to witness and experience the beautiful Starcourt Mall..."

You felt like your head was spinning when you hear the words: 1985.

“Ma'am, are you sure you’re okay? or do i need to call a doctor?” His face is fully concerned of your well being right now. Instead of answering him, your eyes travelled from the television back to the man's direction.

“What year is it now?"

“it’s 1985? duh..?”

And that's the moment when you knew.

You are doomed.

note: finally, the first chapter's here! i really, reaaallyyyyy hope y'all like it! i'll make sure to post daily since i also need to catch up with some school stuff here. if there's any confusion about this whole time travel thingy (trust me, i was also pretty confused with my own thoughts) feel free to ask! and feel free to request to be on my taglist! happy reading <3

taglist: @xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse

[666anxiety666]

HAI HAI HAI CAN I REQUEST A FIC WITH DAISUKE (<3) AND CURLY WHERE DAISUKE IS IN A LEE MOOD AND GOES TO ASK CURLY FOR TWORDS I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE SILLY THEY’RE SO SILLY (not in a romantic ship way) AUGH

OOP-

🌺just ask🌺

Mouthwashing tickle fic

Lee: Daisuke Ler: Curly

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

Daisuke didn't know what was wrong with him... why on gods earth was he feeling this way? all day, all damn day he had been flustered and shy. this was obviously very unlike Daisuke. why was Daisuke acting like this you may ask? it all started that morning on the tulpar.

"morning Daisuke." Curly mumbled as he entered the kitchen area of the ship. Daisuke smiled and opened his mouth to respond. but instead of ruffling Daisuke's hair like he normally did, Curly poked Daisuke's side, drawing a small yelp from the boy.

thankfully no one was around to see or hear, only Curly who chuckles as he grabs whatever it is he's getting from the fridge and walks away. Daisuke sat there flustered out of his mind, and he had been like that all day. the slightest touch setting him off and making him shiver.

that evening, Daisuke was laying in bed. still replaying that same moment in his head over and over. what the hell was wrong with him?! Daisuke couldn't take it anymore. he left his room heading down the hall.

now we are here, Daisuke standing outside of Curly's bedroom door. he debated even going through with this. asking Curly, the CAPTAIN, of all people to TICKLE him?! "god damn it, Daisuke..! just knock and ask... I'm sure he wont mind..." Daisuke paused "no, NO! you can't ask him THAT! what am I even doing? oh man, this isn't a good idea-" Daisuke's words caught in this throat when Curly's bedroom door slid open, revealing Curly himself standing there with a confused look.

"Daisuke? what are you up to?" the captain asked, a small huff of a chuckle leaving his throat. Daisuke froze. "C-Cap! I-I was um... I, well..." Daisuke trailed off, he had no idea what to say, he was so flustered. Curly chuckled, placing a hand on Daisuke's shoulder, causing Daisuke to shiver. "why don't you come in, kid?" Curly smiled, already slightly pushing Daisuke before the younger could protest.

Daisuke sat on Curly's bed. the room was organized and laid out nicely. Daisuke was so flustered, unsure what to do with himself other that sit as still as possible on the bed. Curly sat next to him after a few moments.

"so... what's got you so worked up? and don't tell me its nothing. you're not really quiet when talking to yourself." Curly chuckled. Daisuke cursed himself in his head. "something about wanting to ask me something..?" Curly asked. Daisuke looked away. "I-It's embarrassing, Cap..." Daisuke stammered out.

Curly blinked before huffing softly. "I'm sure whatever it is, its not as embarrassing as you think, kid..." Curly smiled, holding his hands up. "I won't laugh, i swear." Curly chuckled. Daisuke looked at Curly for a split second before looking away once more. god he hated this.

"can you like... do the thing you did this morning..?" Daisuke asked in a quiet voice. Curly raised an eyebrow. "what thing?" Daisuke huffed. he was really going to have to do this, wasn't he? "y-y'know... when you did the thing, you... tickled me..." Daisuke mumbled out in an almost whisper. Curly blinked. "when i what? come on, kid. spit it out-." "can you tickle me again, damn it..!" Daisuke blurted out. his face quickly went red once he realized what he just sputtered out.

Curly paused. it was quiet for a good few seconds. just as Daisuke was convinced he had weirded Curly out. Curly chuckled. Daisuke's gaze was quick to land back on Curly. "you said you wouldn't laugh!" Daisuke exclaimed.

Curly continued to chuckle for another moment before calming slightly. "sorry, sorry, it's just... that's all?" Daisuke blinked. "what do you mean?" Curly rolled his eyes slightly. "I mean is that what you got yourself all worked up about? it's not a bid deal, kid." Curly pat Daisuke's shoulder.

Daisuke was dumbfounded to say the least. "I-" Daisuke was suddenly cut off as Curly's hand moved from his shoulder to his hips, going right for the kill. Daisuke almost jumped like ten feet in the air, letting out a loud squeal. "CUHUHURLY! WAHAHAHAHAIT!" Daisuke instantly tried to pull away, but curly was quick to hold Daisuke down.

"what's wrong, Daisuke? isn't this what you wanted?" Curly chuckled. a small smile on his face as he dug his thumbs right into Daisuke's hips, making the young intern squeal and kick his legs weakly in a failed attempt to get away. "THIHIHIHIHIS ISN'T FAHAHAHIR!" Daisuke thrashed, trying to divert Curly's attention elsewhere.

"oh fine, fine..." Curly let up a tiny bit by moving to Daisuke's sides. Daisuke was still giggling like crazy, have face all pink. "is that better?" Curly asked, half teasing but also half caring. "s-shuhuhut uhuhup!" Daisuke giggled. his hands latched to Curly's wrists, but not pushing him away.

Curly gasped in mock offense. "shut up!? do you speak to your mother with that mouth? and hear I was going soft on you!" Curly instantly moved his hands once more, this time to Daisuke's tummy. forming his hand into a claw and digging in without mercy. Daisuke shrieked. throwing his head back as he cackled. "NOHO! WAHAHAIT! IM SOHOHOHOHORRY!" Daisuke pleaded desperately.

even though Daisuke was fighting this, he genuinely needed this after basically suffering all day. "CUHUHURLY PLEHEHEHEASE!" Daisuke squealed. jolts of ticklishness sparked through him as he weakly kicked his legs again, only for Curly to pin the down with his own. "Please what, Daisuke? I'm not doing anything..." Curly teased with a small smirk as he played innocent, still clawing at Daisuke's poor tummy.

"maybe if you say sorry I'll stop..." Curly trailed off. Daisuke was trying so hard to push Curly's clawed hand away, even though he didn't want Curly to stop. "JUHUHUST FUHUHUCKING STAHAHAHAHAP!" Daisuke pleaded franticly, secretly dragging this on more. Curly tsked. "you're gonna play this game, huh? how rude, no manners at all..." Curly chuckled.

"fine then..." Curly pulled his hand away. Daisuke panted, thinking it was over, much to his disappointment a little. however, before Daisuke could think anything further, Curly was blowing a raspberry right onto his stomach. Daisuke screamed, instantly trying to push Curly's head away.

"AHAHA- W-WAAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEASE!" Daisuke Pleaded through squeals of frantic laughter. it was a shock no one else on the ship heard Daisuke and thought the poor boy was being murdered. Daisuke's please fell on deaf ears as Curly kept it up. Daisuke was loosing it. kicking his legs harder, his hair now a mess covering his bright red face.

Curly kept up his raspberries for a minute or two before taking pity on the poor intern who was bright red to the point it reached his ears. Daisuke panted heavily, curling up on himself and hugging his stomach as he giggled even after it was over.

"oh man..." Daisuke huffed, his hair a wreck. curly chuckled "you okay, Daisuke?" Curly asked softly, helping the younger sit up. "y-yeah... that was..." "Good?" Curly butted in as he nudged Daisuke's shoulder. Daisuke's face flushed a little. "h-hey! it was... okay, maybe..." Daisuke trailed off as he averted his eyes. Curly laughed, ruffling Daisuke's hair.

"nothing to be embarrassed about, kid..." Curly said softer. "you can ask anytime you know..." Curly carried on, his eyes meeting Daisuke's once more. Curly smiled, poking Daisuke's side one last time, causing the young boy to yelp. "it'll be our secret, huh?" Daisuke sighed with a small chuckle, rubbing his side slightly. but he nodded, feeling relief. "yeah... thanks cap..."

♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

loved writing this! took multiple takes cause I couldn't figure out how to write a Lee mood in the best way, but I did my best! :>

[vhygoxo]

Twilight New Age

After inheriting her grandparents house in the Quileute reservation, La Push, Y/N moves to her home rez. Hoping to start a new life she is soon involved with what she thought were just old legends.

Paul Lahote x Reader

Romance | Fantasy | Drama | Angst

CHAPTER 3

<<CHP 2

The music was playing loud with the help of Embry’s subwoofer. Everyone was feeling the drinks as the group talked over one another. Only the older members sat around the bonfire. Consisting of Y/n, Quil, Kim, Emily, Leah, Sam, Embry, and Jared.

Leah and Embry sat beside y/n on either sides. Emily and Kim eventually found their way to their respective partners. Kim and Jared sat next to each other basically fondling one another. Emily and Sam were too absorbed with one another to even join the group conversation.

Almost an hour and a half had passed since Paul had left. Y/n still sat with her heart racing out of her chest as she barely finishing her first drink. Still nursing what was left in the can. Wondering anxiously when Paul would get back. Feelings in turmoil as she switched from feeling desperate to frustration at herself.

The three outside of y/n seemed to take no notice or care about the couples. It seemed that it was just something normal for the others. Y/n faded in and out of the conversation, thinking of him, then snapping into reality. She wondered if he’d even come back.

She was getting along with Leah, there were some qualities they shared, even some interests. Y/n was relieved to know she wasn’t as scary as she thought. She was one of the most welcoming and generous people out of the group aside Emily.

“So your grandma said you’re living all alone down at her old place?”

“Yeah just me out there at the moment”

“Seems a lot of work for one person. How are you handling it all?” Leah asked with serious concern. Y/n nervously laughed “I’m handling it so far yeah. It’s true it’s a lot of work for me but not much besides the house I have to look after. I’ll worry about the yard once the snow is fully melted.“

“Well if you ever need any help I live nearby your place. I’ll give you my number in case of anything. Or if you just want to hang. I’m sure you can handle but it’s still scary for a single girl to live alone there. It’s a pretty isolated area”

“Really? I appreciate that it’ll help. I’ve been worried about the recent wolf sightings in my area. Least I know you’re around”

Leah fell silent after they exchanged numbers. Embry she enjoyed as well but y/n found it hard to befriend men most of the time. It never lasted long with her guy friends in the past. Besides she wasn’t sure if she was wanting to just befriend him.

Other times she’d be really enjoying herself. But after feeling that intense connection earlier from Paul she wasn’t sure about much now. It didn’t help the fact that Embry and Leah kept bickering with one another quite loudly.

“So how are we feeling tonight y/n?” Embry asked catching her attention. He wore a soft smile on his face. “Great. How’s your night so far?” She asked earnestly with a smile as he leaned in closer. Her cheeks flushing at how close they were at the moment.

“Same here. You’re not much of a drinker are you” He asked looking down at her empty can. She shrugged her shoulders “Usually” she said as he scoffed. “Usually? Why not tonight? I thought you were having a great night” he asked with a worried look.

“I mean I am but—“ y/n trailed off nervously. Embry shook his head slightly. “But?” Gazing into his eyes he gave off a unique Intense energy. An unsuspecting darkness was hidden inside him. He must’ve noticed from Leah and y/n’s reaction how he was behaving. Leaning back slightly away from her as Leah got up to leave.

“I just…” Y/n trailed off trying to figure what to say. Explain that she somehow missed Paul even though they literally just met? She wasn’t sure If one could even call that an introduction.

“Look, I get that you’re not used to being around people like us. We can come off how do I put it. A bit scary? Intense? I dunno but personally I hope you have a good time here with all of us. In the meantime can I get you a new drink?” He offered which made y/n smile.

“Sure, thank you” she answered as Embry stood up. But before he could leave she pulled onto the edge of his sleeve. “I just wanna say I am having fun. I don’t wanna give off the impression I’m not. It’s just that I didn’t realize how tired I am y’know? But I’m sure a drink will help with that”

He smiled slightly at her nodding in acknowledgment. Leaving to get a drink out of the cooler for her y/n sat in thought. Her heart beat was still pounding loudly. The lingering energy settled over her and her heart.

It wasn’t as if she thought everyone was scary. They seemed interesting in a way she couldn’t describe. A certain mystery that she wanted to unravel about all of them. They seemed so close and familiar. It made the feeling of being a new person all the more obvious.

The evening was great so far, but with how much time had passed, she wondered if Paul would return. Would she even cross paths with Paul again? She wanted to rid herself of this inner conflict she was going through already.

Maybe then she could actually focus on her surroundings. She kept getting flashbacks to her dreams. Running in the woods wildly, the light of the moon, with the sounds of howls echoing the valleys. Chills ran down her back all the way across her spine.

Embry came with her new drink in hand. She kept harshly blinking as to help with her vision, fading in and out of reality, then back to her place in her dreams. As she reached for the can she saw a flash of fierce piercing grey eyes in her mind. Making her gasp in surprise she almost dropped her drink.

The loud noise of truck pipes echoed as a black truck rolled up. Instantly catching the attention of everyone as the driver slammed into park. Y/n once again felt a wave of chills go through her. She knew there was only one person it could be.

Paul had returned with Seth by his side. He wore a completely different outfit than the one had a few hours ago she noticed. Glancing up he found her and locked eyes instantly. She was frozen in place as he made his way down to the area.

Sam rose to greet the two as Paul kept his eyes on y/n. The rest of the group eventually stood along with y/n. At this point all y/n felt she could do was look away and stare into the fire. Feeling his intense look baring down into the side of her neck.

“Paul you made it” Sam said as he was almost instantly ignored. Embry stood beside y/n not bothered by his entrance. Paul was glaring at him, while y/n scanned Paul once more, looking upon his face closely.

“So” His voice was smooth but gruff. He had a slight smirk across his face standing in from of her. Y/n looked up as she breathed in regaining composure. All everyone else could do was watch and wait in anticipation.

“You’re her aren’t you?” Paul said in a tone that made her heart race. “Her?” She answered as he wore a stern expression. One that seemed like he wouldn’t let up. His intensity was something y/n had never experienced before.

“The one. Everyone has talked about you at least once a day since you came” He said making y/n lift an eyebrow, she felt he was somehow annoyed, at how much everyone was excited over her. “Yeah well that’s me. And you are?” She asked as he smiled slightly at her response.

“Paul” he said causing a short pause between the two. For both it felt like an eternity fit into a second. Y/n’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. Down to his neck and chest focusing on his collarbone. She was too busy taking in his features to realize he was also.

“I never got your name” he said as she felt the warmth on her face spreading. “My name is y/n… Not just the one” y/n bluntly corrected Paul. He smiled finally breaking the harsh exterior he held. “I’d hope not” he said as y/n felt somehow more at ease now that he was back.

The rest of the guys broke the conversation by pulling Paul to the drinks. Catching both of the two by surprise. Everyone erupting into conversation as y/n caught her breath. Separating into their respective corners.

She felt her nerves calmly settling down. As her heart beat steadied she sat down clutching her chest. Embry took notice as he joined her side once more. “Hey you okay?” He asked worried as she nodded her head.

“I’m fine it’s just a bit cold out here. Still getting used to it I guess” she tried to assure while he shook his head. Embry wore a thick fleece lined flannel jacket which he was trying to take off.

Leah instantly as she seen the sight and got up to intervene. Knowing how the situation would bode with a certain someone. Paul was already shooting deathly eye glares from his corner. Leah rushed over with a blanket, wrapped up y/n, before Embry could place his jacket on her.

Y/n flushed red as Leah wrapped not only the blanket but her arms around her. “Here” Leah said looking down at her, she could smell her scent waft past, which was a mix of rain and lavender. Embry frowned as he shuffled his jacket back on.

“Even from where I sat you could see how cold you are” Leah smiled teasing y/n who was bashful. As Leah rubbed her shoulders for warmth before sitting back beside her. “Thank you. I’m not used to the weather here just yet” y/n replied in a soft tone.

“Is it bad if I hope you don’t?” Leah said as she peered in close to y/n. Gazing at her through her thick lashes y/n felt flustered. Noticing how close the distance was to the two. Jared and Kim sat with Paul who was sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Now why would you hope for that? You wish for me to be freezing all the time?” y/n answered trying to focus. But Leah had her own intensity to her that y/n struggled to match. Leah in the other hand couldn’t but find her demeanour cute.

“Because. Then I wouldn’t be able to warm you up like this” Leah made y/n instantly blush heat spreading across her face. Leah sat with a sly but subtle smirk as she stifled a laugh. Quil on the other hand was sick of watching everyone fight over his cousin.

Everyone was acting different since she arrived he noticed. It was as if they all forgot how to act in the first place. When did everyone get so sweet? He rose from his seat eager to march right over. Paul determined to follow him but Sam whipped a glare to him.

The loud sound of a car arriving interrupted everyone. As they all shifted their heads to see who had pulled up. Y/n felt her heart drop into her gut in an awful way. Everything in her body told her she should flee. Instead her body froze stiff in place.

The men all stood up on alert before the truck could even fully park. Sensing something that y/n was somehow also reacting to. Paul whipped his head over to Quil then y/n. Embry left y/n’s side walking over to stand by Sam.

Quil marched over to y/n taking Embry’s place at her side. Y/n noticed Quil’s protective stance as everyone else stood up alert. Leah also rushed in front of y/n as if to block her from something.

Out from the truck was Jacob and the girl Renesmee. Y/n stiffened again as the two immediately locked eyes. Sam rushed up to meet with Jacob who walked with Renesmee in stride.

The two men began to talk in harsh but hush tones to each other. Renesmee kept her eyes on y/n who was trying to stray away from the girl. Looking down eager to avoid y/n felt utter chills throughout her body.

“Hey there. It’s me from the diner remember?” Renesmee beamed innocently with a bright smile. Strolling over past the two men and the rest of the group confidently over to y/n. Everyone eyed her with wild and fierce eyes shocked.

Y/n slightly gasped upon hearing her voice, seeing her coming over, she felt her self hesitate. Quil and Leah immediately closed ranks sliding close to one another. Shoulder to shoulder they blocked Renesmee from approaching further

“Just the other day was when we met. I’m sure Quil remembers. I didn’t think you’d be here what a nice surprise!” The girl continued as Quil nodded with a straight stern face. “Yes it’s good to see you too” he tried to dismiss her. But to no avail as she peered over and in between the two to look at y/n.

“Yes hi Renes—”

“Jacob” Paul called out in a serious tone as he hovered close by. Arms crossed as he showed obvious discontent. “Renesmee” Jacob called out making the girl look back concerned. In a brief moment she sighed and joined his side once more.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice everyone’s strange behaviour. How the energy shifted as soon as these two pulled up. But she wasn’t quite sure how to react given the mood so far. Kim and Jared looked at one another before they separated.

“C’mon y/n I think we should go for a quick cruise. Leah come with us. We’re almost out of drinks” Kim chimed in as y/n looked back up at Renesmee. A sad look upon her face as she gazed into the fire. Kim quickly linked arms with y/n pulling her away from the area.

“Em you too” Leah spoke in a firm tone as Emily nodded. The four left together explaining they’d be right back. Y/n didn’t know what Kim meant by saying there were hardly drinks. When there were at least two coolers full still. She understood there was something weird going on they didn’t want to say.

Whatever it was had to do with Renesmee somehow. Or at least Jacob she decided in her mind on the drive to the liquor store. Even the girls didn’t dare bring the two of them up. Leah drove since she didn’t have anything to drink.

As she parked the car y/n made the other two girls go inside. Wanting to sit alone with Leah for a moment. Y/n waited for Leah to light her cigarette. Watching as she exhaled her smoke into the air.

“So that was Renesmee and Jacob huh? I remember Jacob but I’m not sure who the girl is”

Y/n tried to make her intentions discreet. Leah took a long drag, thinking of what to say, she took a moment before answering. “I thought she said you met at the diner” y/n agreed but quickly dismissed her.

“But that was quick I barely spent a minute with her” Leah nodded slightly. “Yeah well that might be for the best” Leah answered as she took a drag. Her ash lighting up as she inhaled. She seemed so reserved y/n thought as she looked at her.

“For the best? What do you mean by that?” Y/n peered curiously. Wondering what could be so wrong about Renesmee. “I hardly know the girl either. Just that her and Jacob have been gone for like 3-4 years until now. The girl can be a bit much at times from what I remember” Leah continued.

“And Jacob? Is that his…” y/n trailed off unsure whether to say it out loud or not. Leah glanced over with a small smirk. “His what?” Leah questioned as y/n blushed. “I mean is that y’know… His girlfriend?“ Leah laughed slightly as she flicked her cigarette out the window.

“No that’s not his girlfriend. They’re close like…” she struggled to explain as y/n tried guessing. “His little sister?” She answered as Leah agreed. “Yeah… Yeah something like that…” Leah finished her cigarette putting it out. The two girls were coming out the store now with small bags.

Once they returned y/n noticed how they came with more bags of ice than anything. More so than the booze they were supposedly getting. She didn’t want to question since no one needed to black out tonight. Hopefully these boys weren’t black outs who’d fight each other when wasted.

“Good to see Jacob back isn’t it?” Kim brought up lightly, her and y/n sat in the back, as the other two sat quietly. “It is yeah…” Emily said drifting off onto something unrelated. The topic of Renesmee wasn’t brought up in the slightest. It was like she didn’t exist to these people.

Getting back to the beach Jacob and Renesmee were gone, everyone explained they just came for a bit, since Renesmee was supposedly tired. Jacob decided to bring her home instead. Explaining he won’t be able to make it back until another day.

Unadmittedly y/n was disappointed to know she was gone. There was something about her y/n felt she needed to uncover. Why does she keep haunting her dreams with her presence? It all wasn’t making much sense to her. Figuring if she got to know her maybe it’d explain somethings.

Jacob as well she surprisingly missed. She’d cross paths with him as a child growing up. Since him and Quil were always close, she had hardly recognized him, not like she knew him that well anyways. But it was a missed opportunity she was hoping to get another day.

She tried not to focus on it too much and instead focused on visiting here. Tonight would most likely not be different than the rest. Renesmee would likely be awaiting for her in her dreams. As she went to sit down on the logs with the rest Paul came towards her.

She felt nervous as he stepped close, in his hands were a warm blanket, looking up at him he wore a stern expression. “Have this” he said bluntly making her quickly take it in her arms. “It’s cold out tonight. You’ll need it to stay warm” he said very matter of fact. He smelt of firewood smoke and a faint smell of cologne.

“Oh okay…Thank you” she said softly as he handed her a drink, the kind she was drinking before, instead it was a fresh one. Before he walked away satisfied back to his seat. Wrapping herself in the blanket she couldn’t help but blush at the interaction. How thoughtful she thought as the rest watched closely.

The rest of the evening y/n spent with Kim and Emily. Despite y/n’s attempts hardly anyone spoke of Renesmee. The conversation always somehow leading back to Jacob. It bothered her since she was overly curious of the girl.

“So y/n what do you usually like doing around here? Now that you’re fully moved back?” Emily had asked y/n. “I mean there’s not much to do around here really. Well at least from what I remember” she said making everyone laugh.

“That’s quite true” Emily said as she calmed down. Y/n couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed for the comment. “I love going to the beach but it’s not warm out yet. Hiking too but again it’s so cold yet. I’m mainly at home unless I travel out to the city” she said trying to shift the focus off of her somehow.

“Well how about sometime this week you come over for dinner? I usually cook big meals and we’d love to have someone new come by. I can show you what we do for fun here” Emily was sincere and kind which y/n was glad for. “Yeah of course I’ll come” y/n said eagerly making the rest smile, except for Paul, who looked over to Sam and Emily concerned.

“Just let me know what kind of dishes you like. I can cook whatever it’s no issue. Since these guys hunt I usually have a variety of wild game” Emily insisted sweetly. Ignoring Paul’s glares and Sam’s concerns.

“Wow really? You guys hunt?” Y/n asked the rest of the men who were surprised by the sudden attention. “I mean yeah all the time” Embry said in a semi sarcastic tone that y/n caught. Y/n frowned slightly as she turned away. Soon as she did Paul elbowed Embry’s side harshly.

“I can bring by some meat to stock your freezer. I know you love elk meat” Quil chimed in making y/n perk up. “Really? I’d really appreciate that since I haven’t eaten it in so long” y/n said as Quil nodded.

“Wait a minute. I knew I recognized you! But I wasn’t sure from where. You’re the cousin that Quil took to prom right? What was that? Junior or sophomore year?” Jared exclaimed as he finally remembered. Both Quil and y/n’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Yeah it was grade eleven I came out for the prom. It was a goodnight” y/n explained much to Quil’s objections. “Sorry I didn’t remember sooner. But damn that was bugging me for a while” Jared said relieved.

Everyone got a rise out of that as they shared stories of that night. “I remember because everyone thought she was your girlfriend. Awe man most of the guys were so jealous until they knew she was your cousin” Jared continued on.

It was starting to annoy Paul as much as Quil. “Yeah well I had the prettiest girl on my arm that night that’s all that mattered” Quil defended his self while the boys continued to tease him.

“That’s because you couldn’t get a real date” Embry started as the two broke into rough housing one another. “Fuck you, you didn’t even show up with a date, at least I did” he bickered as Embry tried choking him.

The conversation trailed off into what the guys wanted to show y/n. Once the two broke apart thanks to Paul. Which was just basically a variety of the sports they all played. She got along with Embry and Quil the most. Since they all had somewhat nerdy interests. Embry’s sarcastic humour was starting to rub off on her.

Y/n had started to notice Paul’s presence more with each passing moment. Eager to steal secret glances to look at him, but their eyes would meet each time, making her heart skip a beat. It was as if he was staring at her long before she could look at him.

It caught her off guard in some moments. Or how if she shifted her position and seat he’d find a way to sit directly across her. How he leaned in each time they spoke to one another so far. Just their few passing words was somehow enough for her to feel smitten.

The visit was cut short since Sam got a phone call. Apparently the majority of them work on as a type of security, for the community, Sam was one of the leadings officers. All eventually decided to leave and end the night.

“It’s not unusual for Sam and some of the guys to leave like this. It takes some getting used to” Emily explained as she sighed. Trying to hide her obvious disappointment at her fiancé leaving.

Y/n laid in bed that night tired and tipsy. Thinking back on what had happened. She was glad to have met everyone so far. But Paul stood out amongst the rest even against Renesmee. How intense she felt being near him, in some moments she felt her heart beating so loudly, thinking it’d run right out of her chest.

Paul made her feel things she never thought she could. Tossing and turning her mind was filled with Paul. Despite the erratic emotions she felt somehow at ease also. Each time she closed her eyes to sleep it was as if he was staring back at her.

A howl echoed in her mind as she was lulled to sleep. It was the first night she didn’t have a weird terrible dream. Instead only remembering comfort that came in waves and the howl that echoed.

Y/n finally felt refreshed and rested after what felt like forever. The weird dreams were really messing with her quality of sleep. Thankfully not much happened last night to disturb her. The only thing she couldn’t get her mind off was Paul. Somehow switching him for Renesmee in her mind.

It still freaked her out about the other day with Kim, how Renesmee was in the middle of the road, that she couldn’t explain. In all honesty it messed with her confidence driving. Honestly her confidence in general.

She seemed so alluring and captivating. Despite only spending a few moments with her. Coming off as somehow hauntingly sweet. It wasn’t so great thinking so much of her. Luckily she had the thought of Paul distracting her.

Getting ready for the day she continued with her chores. Continuing to clean and tend to the house. She gradually felt cooped up and uncomfortable, surrounded by chaotic mess, boxes and items left scattered everywhere. She texted Kim to see if she wanted to hang.

But after waiting a minute Kim didn’t respond. Unusual since she always answered quickly. Deciding to just suck it up she wanted to go to the book store. Have a day to herself of shopping and being spoiled.

A chance to get over her nerves and get out. She finished what was left of her chores. Putting on her coat she grabbed her keys out of the bowl by the door. Once last look in the mirror she headed out.

Leaving the house she turned to lock the door. Only to hear a ruffling noise coming from the trees. Whipping her head quickly to see a huge gray wolf, shocked she dropped her keys, but for a brief second she made eye contact.

It was true there were wolves around here! Would it leap and attack her she thought? But the serene energy she felt told her otherwise. Holding the eye contact before the beast turned running into the forest.

She stood for a moment in disbelief. And also just to make sure there weren’t anymore around. After realizing what just happened was real and not a dream she gathered herself. It was her first time seeing a real wolf. Picking up her keys and driving down the road.

The sight of the wolf made her wonder. In all seriousness y/n was spiritual especially with how she grew up. Wondering if this was the same wolf that plagued her dreams and thoughts. Her grandfather always said there was a power, a certain energy, to the wolf.

Overwhelmed y/n knew she needed to just focus on herself today. Everything since moving here was so weird and different so far. She just needed to do something normal and docile. Something that was familiar to her. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any wolves on her way back.

Driving she listened to music to calm her nerves. Getting into a better mindset she got herself a coffee through a local cafe, going through the drive thru, before heading to the stores.

Shopping around a few clothing boutiques she wandered around. Finding a new small store she explored. Not realizing it was an indigenous owned store. There was a wall filled with jewellery. Different types of beaded, dentillium, shell earrings and jewelry.

Coming across a stunning pair of wolf earrings that were beaded. It was more intricate and detailed than what she’d found. She was so taken by them the lady at the register even noticed.

“Those were all made by local artisans in the community. Every item bought a portion goes back to them”

“Really? Do you happen to know the name of who made these?” She asked as the lady who looked at the earrings. “Usually these have a tag with their names and contact info of the artist. But this is missing one” she showed the other earrings with tags.

“I’ll still get them if that’s alright” y/n insisted as the lady happily rang them up. The earrings were too pretty to pass up. Especially after that encounter with that gray wolf. These ones had a gray wolf with an orange sunset coloured background.

Reaching the bookstore she noticed it was also indigenous owned. Something she wasn’t used to where she lived with her parents. It made her excited since she needed more indigenous literature on her shelves.

The man at the counter greeted her as she entered. It was semi busy with people mingling around. Looking around she found a section dedicated to Quileute knowledge and history. Which immediately caught her interest as she went towards it.

Scanning through she found a book on Quileute myths and legends. It reminded her badly of her grandfather. Growing up when she’d be at their house he’d always tell stories. Passing them down from his grandfather to her and her cousins.

Most were stories of his time as a child. Before diving into myths and stories he knew about. She and Quil spent the most time with him out of the grandkids. He’d always take the time to explain what each story meant.

Skimming through she was entranced by the story she landed on. It reminded her of a certain story she had trouble remembering of his. Because he only told it maybe once in her lifetime. Reading the title of the chapter she began reading further.

“Myths and legends of the Quileute tribe

In times before the white man came to the country, the Quileute tribe have been a small but resilient people, with their own unique traditions and power. Recognized and respected by the surrounding communities as fierce warriors.

They are also recognized for their mysterious ‘gifts’ and so called ‘blessings’. Some say they have multiple types of strong magic and power. One being their connection to the wolves. Accounts from other surrounding tribes speak of their unnatural abilities and ties.

The Makah people specifically, have certain accounts, and stories of such abilities. For when encountering them in battle, the Quileute owned what was believed to be direwolves, which are now extinct to the modern world. They’d send them out to assist during battle. Many believed they raised and trained them among their own. But there’s no such evidence to support that.

The direwolves were said to be as big or even bigger than the average horse. A different breed of wolf that was uncommon in the Washington area. On the battlefield they would announce their arrival by howling. Sometimes striking so much fear into the enemy they’d flee.

The Quileute people say otherwise about the direwolves. Claiming that they themselves were the direwolves. Denying that they ever raised such beasts, hence no evidence, but there was no proof to support their original claim.

As a tribe they were used to human threats. Other men trying to conquer their tribe and land. All until the arrival of the ‘cold ones’, people that were made of hard stone, and an unnatural thirst for human blood.

Claiming that the reason they could shift into the powerful wolf, was to kill such horrific creatures, in order to best protect not only their people but humanity it self.”

It sounded like they were describing vampires y/n thought. She only had fuzzy faint memories of her grandfathers story. Surely she would’ve remembered if he mentioned talk of vampires.

The thought of them sent shivers down her spine. How could vampires even be real? The way her people described them made her feel scared. How would they even come across one, let alone many, and also be able to kill them?

Just how big did these wolves get to be? What was shifting exactly like? It was almost describing a werewolf. Intrigued by the idea y/n continued further.

“The cold ones were creatures born of the night. They are unnatural and forever ravenous. Wishing to only feed on human flesh, the Quileute describe them as cannibals, cursed to live forever for their sins of eating human flesh. They appeared as attractive and seductive. With cold solid skin that shimmered like the sun on the water.

Their ability to transform into wolves they say came from one man. Whose name was name was long forgotten. As was his bloodline, they say the last of his line, died honourably to save the tribe. He was named as the last shifter and last wolf of the tribe.

A cold one had strayed from his partner and the trail. Belonging to a group of French colonizers who were trapping. The man found the village first, coming across a band of women and children, bathing and washing by the river.

Legends say the last shifter had to sacrifice his self to save the tribe. Other say it was him and also his sons who died in battle. All the stories end the same way. Wth both of the cold ones being killed and burned to ash. Stating that the cold ones ate many women and children before the last wolf could stop him. Their bodies looked deflated, pale, and flat for they had no blood in their bodies”

An image was attached, a hand drawn depiction of the grimly scene, a woman being sucked at the neck with bodies surrounding. The cold one’s eyes looked dark and ominous. Her eyes were piercingly light as she dressed in fine furs.

“Found yourself a good book I see?” A familiar voice chimed behind y/n surprising her out of her trance. It was Renesmee who stood with a sweet smile. Giggling slightly at y/n’s scared reaction.

“Renesmee! I didn’t realize you were here” she replied as her nerves settled. “I seen you come in earlier but you looked interested in reading. I didn’t want to disturb you but I wanted to say hi. I wasn’t able to talk to you at the bonfire the other night”

“Yeah sorry about that we thought the cruise wouldn’t be so long. I was hoping to see you too”

“Jacob ended up wanting to leave. I think he was too tired to be honest. But anyways I heard from Jacob you recently moved back here. Is that true?” She asked with eyes full of wonder. Y/n couldn’t help but take notice of her ethereal beauty, how perfect her brown hair was, or how her skin glistened under the sunshine.

“I mean yeah but I’m not new to the area—”

“Great to hear. That means I can show you around. Y’know I’ve read this book before and it’s a great read” she said as y/n clasped the book close. “Y-Yeah it has been so far. I think I’m going to buy it actually. I want to read it more” she said her hands covering the front of the book.

“Wait… I’m not sure this is the same one I’ve read actually. Can I check the cover?” Renesmee asked as she reached to flip the book over. “Sure—“ y/n replied before her hands touched her, as they did the air from her lungs sucked out, and her field view changed before her.

She was stuck in the middle of the forest again. The same exact spot she had been stuck in the past. Another flash and the sky was no longer night but day. With a blinding sun that shined down on her.

The next was the moon flashing in her face. With the same intensity as the sun somehow. The sound of heavy footsteps on soft earth intensely struck the ground. Shocked and scared she couldn’t move not even a budge.

All she could see now, was a pair of eyes, glaring at her in the dark. Peering out through the darkness as it came forward. Gray eyes revealed to be the gray wolf once more. As he stepped out of the shadows to reveal itself.

Renesmee’s grip loosened as y/n stumbled backwards. Air rushing back into her lungs. Dropping the book to the floor suddenly. A cold sweat was running down her back as she looked up at her. Renesmee’s eyes fixed onto her neck, before looking back up at y/n, as she smiled Innocently.

“What’s wrong? I don’t want the book *that* bad. I said I read it already *remember*?” she said with such a nonchalant tone. Y/n felt her stomach instantly turn into a big huge knot. Something was *off* and she *needed* to leave.

Picking up the book Renesmee helped her with it. “Here. You have to be careful“ she said in a sweeter and much softer tone. But not enough for y/n to feel even slightly normal. Rushing to get up she felt her gut turning worser by the second. Her hand somehow brushed against hers once more.

Flashes of red filled her vision, similar to a strobe light, it made her stumble down again. “Are you sure you’re fine? You keep stumbling all over the store here” she said clutching y/n’s arm. Upon her touch she writhed away from Renesmee’s grip.

Turning around immediately she slapped a large money bill on the counter. “Thank you?” The man behind the register said as she practically ran out. Renesmee stood quiet as she watched her take off.

In a panic she ran down to her car. Only to be met with something in front of her stiff as concrete. “Woah there. You okay?” A voice said making her look up, it was Jacob his self, he held her shoulders as he helped her steady.

“Y/n?”

“Jacob?”

She asked bewildered by the encounter. “Yeah I’m okay you just surprised me” y/n replied as he smiled. “Me too. You came out pretty quickly. Like a bat out of hell. You okay?—“ he tried asking again but it only triggered her flashbacks to the vision. She could see sharp teeth snapping down, the sound of growling and snarling, as the wolves ran beside each other.

Y/n’s face drained of its colour turning her pale. Jacob noticed as he furrowed his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” He asked with a genuine concern. His face somehow reminded her of the weird visions she was plagued with.

Renesmee stepped out of the book store. Jacob turned and greeted her like normal. But y/n fled down the path way with no shame or warning. More focused on her and her own sanity.

Y/n hopped into her car and sped home. Hoping and praying she wouldn’t come across Renesmee on the road. She so much as didn��t even want to think or utter her name. For fear of somehow summoning her.

Her grip was tight on y/n’s hand but she felt warm. At least she was warm instead of having an unnatural coldness. It actually surprised y/n she was warm, but it didn’t rid her of her suspicions, there was something about Renesmee that was different.

If she was a cold one, like she suspected, what could she even do? They were cannibals, literal blood sucking monsters, how could one defend themselves? They had to be just some stories elders told to keep kids inside.

Ridding the thought of her she hustled back home. It was raining outside, not as much as usual, it was more of a spit than anything. The smell was calming her down somewhat. Not as much as she wanted or hoped really.

There was no way she could think otherwise if she wanted to feel safe. That girl Renesmee just had to be a sweet normal human. And something else was plaguing the mind of y/n. For her to even experience something as this so often.

How far would these delusions go? It wasn’t as if she was this fascinated by such fantasy’s. Vampires never interested her much. Werewolves also she never paid attention to any fiction such as that. It was a big question on why y/n kept having such delusions.

Flashes of what she experienced kept coming to her. How Renesmee’s eyes although sweet were filled with a never ending darkness. Last she seen her eyes they were so dark. But this time they were a lighter color, a brown almost auburn, how could she never notice?

Her hands were practically shaking as she gripped the steering wheel. Driving fast she kept her eyes on the road. As the rain continued to pour down onto the ground. She could see something following her in the corner of her eye. But she dared not to look away from the road.

Although y/n wanted desperately to go back home, to her safe space, in her gut she knew it was a bad idea. Since Kim didn’t want to answer she knew who she could rely upon. Her grandmother Molly, she was a great comfort to her, anytime she was in need she answered. Even now she answered her obscure call.

“Gramma? Are you home?” She called out with clear desperation in her voice. “Yes. Whats wrong?” Was all she said to make y/n melt into a child again. “Nothing… I’m just missing you and wondering if I would be able to sleep over?” Although y/n was trying to be discreet Grandma Molly could sense her true intentions.

“I’ll be home my girl. Drive safe it’s raining out” Grandma Molly knew she’d arrive sooner than later. Y/n needed to grab clothes but she dreaded going back home. Pulling up to her driveway she sat in the car for a moment.

“Shit” y/n said out loud as she groaned. The anxious feeling churning deep in her. It’ll have to be quick but simple in and out. Stepping out she rushed to the door, still worried about the wolf from earlier, almost dropping her keys out of fear.

Getting inside the house it was quiet and undisturbed. Taking a second to pause and wait. A wave of peace fell over her in the moment. Debating if she wanted to stay and just visit her grandmother. Come home sometime later this evening. It’d be great if she could truly relax.

All until she could hear creaking floorboards in the upstairs hallway. The sound of weight shifting around the floors. A sinking feeling made her stop in her tracks.

‘What the fuck?’ She thought frozen in place again, a familiar eerie feeling washed right over her, she knew it wasn’t right to come here. A moment passed as she awaited for something she didn’t know.

Pulling her courage from somewhere in her. She grabbed the baseball bat she left hidden by the door. Y/n marched right up the stairs into her room ready to face whatever it may be. She wasn’t dumb enough to not have a weapon nearby. Especially as a young woman living alone.

Her bedroom window was open slightly with watery tracks everywhere. Nothing was taken or trashed but someone was inside. Only her bedroom was on the second floor. Who knew how to climb and then open her window?

After checking the house top to bottom with no intruder in sight. Y/n packed up a bag to go and see her grandmother. Locking every single window and door in sight before leaving.

Arriving at the house she felt relieved. This was the familiarity she has been searching for. Since y/n moved in the house her grandmother moved in with her sister Melissa. Everyone in the family called her “grandma Milly”. Who was Kim’s direct grandmother, since they were getting older, they decided it best to look after one another.

“My girl” Molly cooed as she hugged y/n tightly. Sinking into her arms she felt the comfort she needed. “What’s wrong?” She immediately asked y/n once they both let go. Shaking her head profusely “Nothings wrong. I just miss you is all” y/n answered.

Grandma Molly looked at her searching for dishonesty. Y/n didn’t feel it’d be appropriate to tell everything so far. She would eventually but for now she just wanted peace. As if she knew grandma Molly didn’t push any further. Instead bringing y/n inside for dinner.

“How are you settling into the house? Are you feeding yourself? You look pale” she fussed over y/n at the table. “I’ve been feeding myself yes—“ she tried to say before grandma Milly cut her off. “Are you sure? You look thinner than last I seen you”

“I’ve been adjusting to living alone. I don’t think I’ve withered away that much” y/n joked but the two didn’t let up. “Hm” was all Milly said as they finished dinner. Eventually she cleared everyone’s dishes. The two could sense something was up with y/n very quickly.

Settling in the living room they spent the evening watching TV together. Checking her phone she wondered about Kim. It was unusual for her to not answer. Chalking it up to her being busy, she wished she would answer, she needed her support.

“I’m going to go rest. My meds are kicking in” Milly said as she left the room. Bidding goodnight to the two girls. Y/n continued to watch tv as her grandma looked over at her with worry.

“My girl are you sure you’re okay? I don’t mind a surprise visit like this. It’s just… You seemed panicked earlier when you called” Grandma Molly pushed her. Seeing it was just the two of them alone y/n sighed in defeat.

“I mean I am fine. It’s just ever since I got here I just… I don’t know” y/n struggled to find the words. “I love the house. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve given me so far. So I don’t want come off as rude”

“I knew it! The house is too much work for you isn’t it? I was worried this would happen but I figured you wanted your own space. Quil was so adamant you get the house when we talked about it—“

“No no that’s not the issue here. The housework I can handle” y/n explained making her grandma sigh in relief. “It’s just ever since I moved in… a lot of stuff has been bothering me—“

“Oh I know you loved your grandfather. It’s a hard loss for everyone and a big adjustment—“

“I mean like actually bothering me” y/n almost spat out making Molly sit up. “What do you mean? I thought I told you to smudge the house after I left. You know it’s important especially since we cleared everything from there. You don’t want something else moving in” Milly explained as y/n sighed deeply. Figuring out the best way to explain.

“I did smudge with sweet grass even. What I’m trying to get at is my dreams have been crazy lately. And I can’t help but feel like they’re trying to tell me something. Show me something anyways…” y/n trailed off unsure on what her grandmother would say.

Molly sat quiet for a moment as she looked at y/n. “What did you see?” She asked as y/n looked up into her eyes. “The first couple of times I’m lost in the woods. I’m being chased or else I’m running to find something. I’m not sure really“

“Oh I’m sure your dreams are just reflecting how you feel here. I’m sure you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by everything” Molly tried to understand. But all y/n did was shake her head.

“I seen grandpa in one of them” y/n said making the expression on Mollys face drop completely. “What happened” she asked with quite a serious tone. “It was… strange to say the least” y/n shivered thinking back on it. Molly awaited for y/n to continue.

“Each time in my dream I’m in the same spot in the forest. Confused and lost. All of a sudden, in this one dream, someone had asked me if I was lost. I looked up and it was grandpa. He laughed, went behind a tree, he came out as his younger self” hearing this made grandma Molly gasp. And tear up at the thought as she covered her mouth.

“Aw well that tells me he’s doing well. Don’t you think so?” She asked y/n who sat quietly. A solemn look on her face told Molly otherwise. Raising her eyebrows at her granddaughter y/n gave in.

“When he left he… he was… I swear he turned into a wolf and ran into the tree line” y/n finally confessed. Y/n expected her gramdma to chalk it up to some crazy dream. That stress had been affecting her and her sleep so of course she’d dream crazy.

Instead grandma Molly sat quiet with a hand on her mouth. Staring off into the distance in deep thought. “Gramma?” She peered curious thinking it’d snap her back to the conversation.

“Have you seen Kim lately? Did she or anyone else come talk to you yet?” She asked making y/n confused. “No she didn’t answer me. What do you mean talk to me yet?” Molly sat up and held y/n’s hand in comfort.

“You must be tired. What with all your stress. For me the dream is just grandfather coming to visit you. You know how he’s always been attached to wolves and their spirit. Rest easy and have some peace of mind” Was all Molly said as she basically dismissed the conversation. Feeling like there was a blockage y/n settled with just going to bed.

There was no dream or nightmare that night as well. Maybe it really was just stress y/n thought. Eating breakfast with her two grandmothers they discussed their day ahead.

“Me and Milly here have to attend a meeting today. You’re welcome to stay here if you want while we’re gone. Fridge is stocked and the TV will be free”

Y/n knew her grandma Molly was a councillor. But grandma Milly wasn’t, she questioned what meeting they would have together, but instead of being too nosey she let it slide. She wasn’t quite sure what grandma Milly did to be honest. Besides bingo and chain smoke everywhere she went.

“Yep you’re lucky my show isn’t on today” grandma Milly teased her making the two chuckle. “No that’s okay grandma I think I ought to head home. There’s some things I left unfinished” y/n picked her fork around her breakfast. She wondered about Kim for some reason.

It was quite unusual for her not to answer y/n, especially since it’s been a whole day later, surely she wasn’t upset at her? Or even worse she was in some danger? It seemed ridiculous but y/n knew Kim was never not on her phone. The ignorance from Kim seemed deliberate.

“Well you’re always welcome to stay again anytime. Me and this girl aren’t usually this busy most days”

“I’m glad I came, I really needed this visit, thank you guys” y/n smiled at the two. Finishing up their breakfast the three departed on their separate ways. Y/n wasn’t lying about having a great visit. It’s just she left with more questions than answers.

Would nothing explain these crazy delusions she’d been having? Perhaps she needed to just focus on self care, cut out her stress somehow, to make it all stop. But it all didn’t explain the possible intruder in her home.

It wasn’t like she just dreamt up the wet muddy tracks in her room. But really what could she do about it? She lived alone and it wasn’t like her grandmother could do anything. She’d tell Quil but what would he even say or do? Most likely just call her crazy and be bothered she made him check the house.

Getting back to the house she sat in the car for a moment. Her beloved childhood home was starting to feel different. She knew the energy would change once it was just her in the house. She didn’t want to think it, but sadly, it was starting to feel unsafe.

With a deep sigh she stepped into the house. Pausing for a moment to hear anything. Doing a quick perimeter check there was no one around. In moments such as this she wish she had someone to rely on.

That evening she did what she could to cheer herself up. Deciding to clean up her room and area. Before doing a complete pampering routine, a hot bubble bath, fit with a sheet mask to keep her skin soft. Doing what she could to also make herself feel comfortable being here alone.

Watching reruns of her favourite tv shows, she kept all the TVs in the house on, as a way to fill the eerie silence. Cooking her favourite foods she settled in somewhat. Praying that her windows would stay shut tonight.

As she slept she had a very lucid dream that freaked her out. It started out with her in laying bed like usual. Opening her eyes a few times to her room like normal. Until in the corner stood a dark shadow, a woman with long hair stood, just out of sight. But y/n knew she was there watching.

As her vision faded in and out the woman eventually stepped out. The light from the window shined down on her. Only to reveal the one and only Renesmee, her eyes dark with a straight expression, her mouth slowly started to open wide.

Revealing small but sharp fangs it made y/n startle out of her sleep. As she sat up Renesmee wasn’t in the room as she thought. Her window wasn’t open and there weren’t any tracks on the floor. But her heart was racing more than ever.

It was five am and y/n couldn’t go back to sleep for the life of her. She was way too freaked out to even think of lying down. Instead she hyped her self up with many cups of coffee. She did message Quil to try and hang but no answer from that guy either.

She was already not trying to overthink about the bonfire. But now she was starting to wonder did she mess up somehow? Or maybe their friends didn’t really care about her? She wasn’t sure but it was unusual for those two to ignore her.

Everything so far was making her feel so isolated. Was it truly a good idea to come back to the rez? This was what she was trying to escape, being alone in isolation, but it seems it what’s she’s walked into. Maybe even a worser case now with the delusions.

All day she spent it on the couch, the heavy rain seemed to match her mood, as she anxiously awaited nightfall. What would await for her when she fell asleep? She didn’t even want to fathom it. Listening to the rain pour down onto the house it calmed her slightly.

Watching the tv she began to slowly drift off to sleep. Feeling somehow safer on the couch with the dim light of the grey clouds. Eyes and body heavy as her eyes fluttered shut. It’d be best to get sleep while she could. Hoping not to see Renesmee once more.

Suddenly someone was knocking and pounding on her door. In a very erratic and panicked manner it shocked her. Sitting up she checked her phone but there were no messages. No one called her either it confused her who would be there.

“Please! Open up it’s me!” The girl begged as y/n recognized the voice. Rushing to open the door to reveal a rain soaked Kim. Standing there with tears streaming as she sobbed hard. “Kim?” y/n asked worried and concerned. “I need you” Kim sobbed out as she grabbed y/n’s shoulders.

Chapter 3 is finished 🤍 Finally settled into my home after moving in a short while ago. Got caught up with writing more. I wanted to write more insight into an outsiders perspective. How shifters and vampires would look like to ordinary people. Especially the tribe’s over all insight. The next few chapters will be interesting🤍

[lunarriviera]

new year's letter from halan, january 1998

dear everyone, hello, it is i, captain zheng bei of the halan public safety bureau anti-narcotics task force. things are going well however there have been a few challenges this winter so i thought i would take this opportunity to update you on our progress here in halan.

first of all there's xiaoguang and nan nan. everyone is really happy that xiaoguang sat up again and started talking and getting better, me most of all. i might have cried a little and i definitely hit him. the weird thing is he speaks exclusively cantonese now and we're not sure why but hopefully nan nan's cantonese will get better so they can communicate. gu yiran says it doesn't really matter because they could never actually communicate in the first place and i don't want to say gu yiran is right but just in this one specific instance he might have a point. anyway nan nan seems happy and they sing a lot. and make other noises as well but we aren't going to talk about those.

zhang xueyao is also doing well, she has some kind of boyfriend but she won't let us meet him and i find that somewhat distressing. i'm worried if he is ugly or maybe has two heads. or what if he's really tiny. maybe he's only like 150 cm tall and she just beats him up all the time, something that would not be good for a police officer to do. on the other hand she seems a lot calmer and doesn't chase guozhu around the office anymore trying to kick him, so i guess it's been good for her. again gu yiran claims that the boyfriend is probably completely normal and just afraid of us but i don't know why that would be true. we're only cops, there's nothing scary about any of us?

ding guozhu has not changed in any way whatsoever, he has knitted eight sweaters this winter and at this rate the only one of us who doesn't have a sweater is me. that's because i don't wear sweaters because i never get cold. i only wear t-shirts even when it's -30ºC which it is right now. gu yiran on the other hand is wearing three sweaters at this very moment in his lab but i can still hear him bitching. i told him when he wears three sweaters at once he looks fat and he told me my head is fat. i told him his head is stupid and he looks stupid and then he told me i am an unmitigated idiot and then we wound up in a supply closet in the hallway and then some other stuff happened. when we came out of the supply closet somehow i was wearing one of guozhu's sweaters. surprisingly it is very soft and kind of nice, and guozhu made it red, my favorite color, and tried to give it to me so maybe i will keep it after all.

then there's uncle. he went on vacation with his granddaughter to hangzhou and they never came back. i think he likes it there, he keeps sending us photos of them by the lake eating sugar pastry in shirt sleeves and smiling. we have all started using email now and uncle likes it the most because he says he doesn't have to waste money on postage anymore. gu yiran tried to explain to him that electricity and telephone usage also cost money but uncle says he's already paid for those so it doesn't count. anyway he keeps sending very large photos that clog up the office inbox for several hours while they download. sometimes there's a lady in the photos, i keep asking him who that is but he never answers. gu yiran says when he feels like telling us about her, he will. here's an old picture of him with gu yiran because it's how i like to think of him, still here with us.

ma and ba are fine and nan nan finally talked them into closing the restaurant one day a week to take some rest. they are saying they might go visit uncle in the spring, or go to shanghai. they are a little bit upset that gu yiran and i moved out, but they also like having nan nan out of their apartment so that worked out okay after all.

i guess that's the big news, that gu yiran and i moved to a new place. it was sad to leave the building but after the incident with the wall we figured it was probably time. i explained to ma and ba how the hole was only an accident but it was still a very big hole so they were right to be upset, we all worked very hard one weekend to tear the wall down and replace it with a better one. the hole wouldn't even have happened if gu yiran and i hadn't had a fight, but we did, and then we weren't speaking so he went home to do his experiment in the apartment instead of in the lab, and there was sort of an explosion. but it was really my fault, because if i hadn't called him an arrogant cocksucker we wouldn't have fought. on the other hand if he hadn't gone after six drug dealers in the chicken van by himself with nothing but a baseball bat and some sock bombs then i probably wouldn't have called him that. so i guess maybe we were both to blame.

the good news is our new apartment is very solid and sturdy, we found this out on the first night when we walked in the front door and gu yiran threw me bodily up against the wall and proceeded to [redacted] me. he says that as a true scientist he has to keep conducting ongoing tests to ensure the structural integrity of our domicile and i'm not entirely sure what that means but as long as he keeps slamming me up against things honestly does it really matter.

here he is studying and looking very handsome and also cute. when he catches me taking photos of him studying, he hits me and tries to get the camera away from me, i don't mind because when he starts hitting me it's sort of funny and also easy to tickle him. it turns out gu yiran is very ticklish, and when he starts laughing and his glasses fall off and his hair gets messed up he looks even cuter and then we usually forget about studying or taking pictures or hitting or tickling.

well that's about all the news from halan. there are always new drugs and new dealers trying to make money off them so we stay pretty busy. director gao says i can't say anymore about that because it's official police business but i will tell you that even though we have a new office and a bunch of new recruits from the academy, i still miss the old cafeteria, and uncle bringing noodles and bao for the team.

PS gu yiran says he wants to get a cat. at first i wasn't sure it was a good idea considering his track record with houseplants, but then i thought about it and decided i don't mind being the one who mostly takes care of the cat. after all i do a pretty good job with xiao ran.

[slutforpringles]

SMM: I just, where I feel sympathy for Doohan is just in the fact that when a driver finds themselves in a, you need to prove yourself or you'll lose your seat scenario, that doesn't normally come in the very first races of your career, and it doesn't normally come two months before you've even got in the car for preseason testing. Every single question Doohan gets asked now, it's going to have an undertone of, you might lose your drive. Every session that he does is going to be done with the backdrop of, you could lose your drive. Every time he makes a mistake in a session or something goes wrong for him, there'll be a TV camera cut to Franco Colapinto standing in the Alpine garage. That is how it's going to be for him now. I just, just to say that word again, because sympathy is kind of very rare that we would dish it out in such circumstances. I think the sympathy lies in the fact that I quite like Doohan, I like the way he goes about things. He's trying to be as professional as he can, and he's very determined. He's clearly a decent driver, and I say decent in F1 context, he's obviously a very good driver in pretty much any other context. Is he a superstar? I don't think so, but I do think he deserves a real chance to show how he can perform in F1. I am just a little bit worried he won't necessarily get that in these first few races. The counterpoint is if he steps in and does do a really good job, that I think that will speak volumes for his ability and his capacity to handle pressure, because I can't imagine a worse kind of setup to be making your [debut]. The only recent equivalent I can think of really, is it kind of felt a little bit like Nick De Vries was on a road to nowhere within the Red Bull organization, after the weird way that he came into Formula One. But even that was such a bonus for him, it almost didn't matter. Whereas for Doohan this is everything. He's worked super hard from this, and he's having his legs chopped out from underneath him before he's even started. ES: Yeah, it's certainly not ideal. I don't think it's a great situation to bid him in, and I do think it's worth trying to make sure your drivers are in the best possible environment to thrive, but at the same time, the point I'm sort of making is that it's within his power to make sure that the worst doesn't happen to him. I don't think we should underestimate Jack Doohan. He's a very quick driver. Without that chassis-crack problem, it's possible he could have won F2 a couple of years ago, and I think then people would view him a little bit differently.

Scott Mitchell-Malm and Edd Straw discussing Jack Doohan's situation within the Alpine organisation and his future in F1 within the context of Franco Colapinto being signed to the team as test and reserve driver on The Race podcast

[godhandler]

Rent A BF!

#2 | young toji fushiguro x reader | fluff, mentions of prostitution and related violence, period accurate and sometimes offensive terminology | 880 words

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31st December, 1995 | 11.57 AM  

20th May, 1996

In his months-long career as a rental boyfriend (and before that as a full-on prostitute), Toji has seen many different sorts of people who pay for company and, yes, sex. Most are older gay men who enjoy feeling young, many of whom are conservative family men who called it an ‘occasional treat’- getting fucked up the ass while being called sissies. And then they go right back to being firebrand homophobes. They amused Toji the most. Now Toji wasn’t gay, but when he took on those customers, he was homeless– so same results, really. 

No, Toji didn’t like his job, but he took it like a champ. Blamed it on capitalism like the rest of us all.

After a couple of very satisfied male clients, he was deemed worthy to graduate to women. Unlike men, there were no ugly women clients. The only women who look for a male prostitute are rich ones, and rich women are never ugly. It’s a cardinal sin of wealth.

Toji would know. Though he could only lick the scraps, he once sat at the elite tables too. 

All his clients, men or women, ugly or otherwise, were lonely. Toji couldn’t judge them for it, he was lonely too. Sitting in front of you at the café shop, he wondered about your degree of loneliness. 

“Would you want another boba milkshake, Toji-kun?” 

“No, miss. But the truffle cake looks heavenly.” 

Usually Toji got the requests to play the Big Strong Boyfriend (bless his incredible heaven-gifted physique). The type to fight for your honour if someone even looked wrong at you. But you had simply asked for, in the words of the receptionist,  a normal chill guy.

He could do that, easy as pie. He could also get truffle cake while doing that. You look lonely enough to pay for whatever he asked. 

“Miss, would you mind us getting the seasonal fruit platter too? It looks great, and frankly, I haven’t had much except for ramen these past few days.” 

Toji liked to push boundaries, see how much you would spend before you told him off. Instead of his company-issued suit and tie, he’d just worn his loose white sweater (ketchup stain at the hem), jogging pants and sockless Crocs. Hey, if you asked for a scrappy dude, Toji would show you real scrappy.

“Sure, order it.” Yup, lonely as hell. I could squeeze easy money out of her. It’s hard to contain the delight in his face. He’d live like a king the next couple of months. “Eat well, Toji-kun. You know what to do when we get home, right?”

Eyes on the waiter bringing his truffle cake, he nods, his milkshake forming a cream mustache on him that you wiped off with a tissue. Compared to free boba and truffle cakes and fruit platters, the sex was definitely one of his lesser favoured parts of the job. 

...

I take it back, he grumbles to himself as you started another episode of Dragon Ball Z, all his clothes still on him. You sternly instructed him to enjoy the show: breaking into shoulder-shaking laughs and nodding eagerly at your commentary as Vegata fights that dried Egyptian cat.  I’d rather get pegged with an axe than take anymore of this. 

8k yen per hour. He chants in his head. His cheeks hurt from fake laughing. Osaka boating summer. 

The dried cat wins. 

“Ey, O-Toji!”

Said Toji finds Shiki sitting on the broken wall of his apartment compound after he comes back from your house. Unlike your residential colony, Minami-Senju is the part of Tokyo that nice women with LV purses avoid. The Tokugawa shoguns used to execute their criminals here, the evil ghosts of whom the women say they’re avoiding the area for, and definitely not the melting-pot of urban poverty that resided here. At the time when Tokyo was trying to modernise itself, all the undesirables of the city poured into Minami-Senju: low-level Yakuza goons, Filipino street-hawkers, prostitutes, ex-prostitutes turned single mothers, Indian truck-drivers, transgenders, convicts hiding from the police, army veterans handicapped from the war 45 years ago, gambling addicts, runaway kids, and the worst of them all– Koreans. 

Shiki managed to hit several of these categories. He was a runaway kid, transgender, prostitute, and a gambling addict. It was one of those chains of events that makes you understand the whole story at once. “Toji-sama! I’ve got ye the ticket ye wanted!” 

He used to get beat up by his clients until Toji moved to the neighbourhood last January. That’s my boyfriend, Shiki would lie. Toji’s gonna kill you if you don’t pay up now. And Toji might not have shown it, but he was actually so happy to make his first friend. 

“80085! Now thass the golden number!” Shiki waved the lottery ticket at Toji. “I’ll let ye have it if ye give me 5 cups of ramen.” 

“Nah, I've won the lottery already.” Toji flashed Shiki a wide grin, walking up the steps to his apartment. Shiki jogs along. “This lady I’ve bagged is richie rich. And get this– I don’t even have to lick a single cunt. She makes me watch dogshit cartoons and pays me a million yen.” Shiki’s mouth hangs open. “5 cups of ramen? Nuh-uh, we’re getting grilled pork today. Dinner’s on me, Shiki, I’m motherfucking rich!” 

You’re definitely the best sort of customer he’s ever had.

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a/n: divider. i love strangergraphic's collections of dividers so much. the tone of the fic was heavily inspired by @jimlingss's Student Council Prez, fantastic series do check it out! on the same note, we need to document the impact bts had on fanfiction.

Shiki is supposed to be from the provinces and have a provincial accent, maybe something seaside? up to the reader really.

[multi-fandomdisaster]

Here you go Soup anon! One order of Paul getting taken over by Pokey/the Hive!

(Word Count: 687)

All eyes were on him. Paul Matthews. Probably the most normal man in Hatchetfield. There was nothing particularly interesting about him, and yet they all watched him with those unnatural blue eyes. The meteor - the presumed “brain” of the Hive - was only a few feet ahead of Paul. This was the end. The “final boss." The atmosphere in the Starlight Theatre felt unnaturally thick, like something foreign was in the air. It made Paul uneasy. And then he heard it.

Music.

It was music in its most perfect form. It was Its music. The Song oozed into his thoughts, coating his mind like a thick coat of slime. It was disgusting, yet...oddly pleasant. It was so tempting...

The Song leapt from his mouth without warning. It was terrifying; like an odd sort of lapse into nothingness for a brief moment. Empty. Relaxing. Horrifying.

“What was that?” he asked.

“You let it out,” the Hive responded.

“Was that a note? 🎶Or just a sound? Am I finally coming 'round to a rhyming scheme?🎶”

Oh God.

Paul wanted it to stop. He felt like he was splitting in half, part of his mind - the sensible, real part of his mind - very adamantly protesting this sudden musical affliction that was taking over him, and the other part that thought that maybe letting it out wouldn’t be so bad...

NO!

The Hive surrounded him, Singing to him, urging him to join - to Let it Out. Paul wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop or if he wanted to Sing along anymore.

The words left his mouth so effortlessly. Sure, he was still incredibly distressed, but there was a strange soothing feeling that overtook him as he Sang. It wasn’t just the Hive watching him anymore. There was an audience. If he looked beyond the spotlight, he could see a full crowd watching him with a thousand eyes. It was horrible. He couldn’t take this anymore.

Paul fought. And fought and fought and fought with all his might, until he managed to break through the sludge in his thoughts and pull the pin of the grenade in his hand. This was it. He was going to win. It didn’t matter if he had to sacrifice himself to get there. Hatchetfield would be safe. Emma would be safe.

“We will not be resisted!”

Paul looked out to the audience one last time, his own eyes slightly bluer than before, as he let out one last defiant shout.

“I DON’T LIKE MUSICALS!”

And that was the end.

....or maybe not?

Paul didn’t feel the pain he’d felt what had somehow seemed like simultaneously only moments, and yet an eternity before when his body had been partially decimated in the explosion in the Starlight. He blinked. His mind was clear. There was no Song. Just an odd silence.

I have to commend you, Paul. You did put on quite a show.

The Voice surrounded him. Paul should have felt fear, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t feel anything. He was a husk. A puppet ready to be used. A mind glazed over in a newly reformed body.

“Thank you,” Paul simply replied. It...felt...good to be praised.

I think it’s time you finish what We started. She’s waiting for you, you know.

Emma!

For a brief flicker Paul felt again. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that he felt anymore, but it was something. Fear? Excitement? Horror? Relief?

Oh God. He didn’t make it. He sacrificed himself for nothing. Now he was going to be used to get Emma too. Oh god, not her-

And then the Feelings and Thoughts ceased again. Paul was puppet once more, waiting for direction.

The finale is approaching. It’s almost time to take a bow for all of your hard work, Paul.

Paul smiled. Yes. It was the end of the show. The grand finale was growing ever nearer. He would get the girl. Unity would spread throughout the world. He would be a hero. He would be happy. He and Emma would be happy under the Singular Voice. It was Inevitable.

[mylovesstuffs]

Jin version !

Request: May I pls request jealousy headcanons for BTS members? reader (she's not famous and has a normal job) thinks of them as just friends, cause she never thought they would have a crush on her but they do.Then one day they get jealous when she ignores them for her guy best friend (whom she has a crush on) so they force her to leave but can't confess because they know she only likes them as a friend? unfortunately I am not very good with handling angsty stuff 🥹 so it will be great if you could write some fluffier headcanons about my request

A/N: This is the first post of the series, I hope it's not as bad as I say 😭 it's not the best I know but I'll try my best to improve. I don't know why it didn't turn out like I hoped for.

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This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Jin always tries to be the reliable friend—the one who makes you laugh, gives great advice, and checks in after a long day. But lately, he’s felt like second place to your guy best friend.

He notices how you light up when you talk about your best friend. It stings more than he’d like to admit, but Jin tries to brush it off with jokes like, “Oh, should I start taking notes from him?”

You’ve canceled plans with Jin a few times now, always saying, “I promised g/bsf I’d help him with something.” He plays it cool but spends the rest of the day eating snacks in front of the TV, sulking and grumbling under his breath.

Jin’s jealousy doesn’t make him angry—it makes him hurt. He wonders what your best friend has that he doesn’t, or why you’d never think of him as more than a friend. Am I just not boyfriend material? he mumbles to himself. (Jin, my love, you're not boyfriend material unfortunately instead... you're a husband material)

He gets extra clingy the next time you hang out—offering to cook your favorite dish, teasing you more than usual, and even pulling out his dad jokes just to get your attention lmao.

When you’re with your guy best friend in Jin’s presence, he turns into the ultimate performer. Suddenly, he’s louder, funnier, and more dramatic—ANYTHING to distract you from your best friend.

One day, he snaps when you ignore him mid-conversation to reply to your best friend’s text. Jin blurts out, “Do I have to be him to get your attention?” It catches both of you off guard, and he immediately regrets saying it. *insert skeleton emoji here TT*

Feeling cornered by his emotions, Jin suggests leaving early from your next hangout. “I just remembered I have to be at the studio,” he lies, not wanting to see you fawn over someone else anymore.

He tries to convince himself he’s being selfish. She’s happy, he tells himself. That should be enough for me. But it’s not, and the ache in his chest doesn’t go away.

Jin throws himself into his work, making himself busier than usual to avoid thinking about you and your best friend. Other BTS members notice his uncharacteristic silence and try to pry, but he just brushes it off with a laugh.

One day, you sense something’s off. Jin has been distant—short replies, fewer calls, and even declining an invite to hang out. You confront him, worried you might have done something wrong.

Jin doesn’t confess outright but hints at his feelings. “Sometimes, I feel like I’m not important to you,” he says with a sad smile. It’s the first time he’s ever let his guard down like this, and it leaves you speechless. (Obviously)

You spend the next few days reflecting on your friendship with Jin. You start noticing the little things—how he remembers your coffee order, how he texts you to make sure you got home safe, and how he always seems to know when you need cheering up.

The realization hits you like a truck: Jin isn’t just your friend. He’s the constant in your life, the person who makes you feel safe and valued in a way no one else ever has.

The next time you see him, you decide to test the waters by spending the day with just him. Jin is hesitant at first, worried you’re only there out of guilt, but your warmth and attention slowly ease his nerves.

1By the end of the day, you find yourself looking at Jin differently... like your feelings have finally been reciprocated. When he makes a lame joke, you don’t just laugh—you admire the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. When he cooks for you, you realize how much love he’s poured into every detail.

Jin doesn’t push you to admit anything, but the shift between you two is undeniable. It’s in the lingering glances, the subtle touches, and the way he prioritize you in his noised life. Neither of you says it out loud, but for the first time, you feel like you have a chance.

Closure: It ends with hope. Jin doesn’t need grand confessions; your actions are enough to show him you’re starting to see him the way he’s always seen you. And for now, that’s all he needs...

Now that you’ve started seeing him differently, Jin becomes even more attentive. He insists on cooking you meals, saying, A love as great as mine deserves a feast. He also gets flustered when you sneak up behind him in the kitchen, wrapping your arms around him. His ears turn red, but he plays it off with a smug.

Jin loves teasing you about your newfound affection for him. He’ll smirk and you roll your eyes, but your shy smile gives you away every time, and he EATS IT UP.

He’s a natural flirt but doesn’t even realize it half the time 😭 Like when he adjust your necklace, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. It leaves you breathless, and he definitely notices.

He runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, but the way his touch lingers on your shoulder or arm feels a little more intentional these days.

Jin doesn’t try to be sexy—it just happens. Like when he’s focused while rolling up his sleeves (I'm sorry but I'm drooling) or wiping his hands on a towel, you catch yourself staring. He notices your lingering gaze, smirks, and says, “Like what you see?” (OF COURSE WE DO!!?!?!!!!!!!!!?!!)

Mornings with Jin are pure fluff. He’s sleepy and cuddly, pulling you back into bed if you try to get up too early. He mumbles, “Five more minutes,” but those minutes turn into hours because he’s so warm and inviting you can’t resist.

Now that he knows you like him, Jin is more physically affectionate. He’ll casually rest his hand on your lower back, tug you closer when crossing the street, or kiss your temple as he passes by. It’s subtle but so Jin coded.

Honestly, nowadays his cocky side is very attractive.

Jin in cozy sweaters is a problem. When he’s lounging at home in a soft, oversized knit, you can’t help but want to curl up next to him. He teases you for staring, but secretly, he loves how smitten you are.

He doesn’t openly flaunt it, but there’s something undeniably attractive about the way he carries himself. Whether it’s his low, rumbling laugh or the way he looks at you across the room, there’s a quiet intensity that leaves you flustered.

Kissing Expert™: Once you’re comfortable, Jin’s kisses go from sweet and soft to take-your-breath-away levels of intense. He’s got this way of cupping your face and pulling you in like he’s waited his whole life for this moment.

Jin being Jin, he’ll occasionally get dramatic about how much he loves you. “I’d battle an army of chickens for you,” he declares one day, and while you laugh at his comment, the sincerity in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

Even when he’s being playful or teasing, Jin’s actions always make you feel safe and cherished. Like holding your hand in a crowded place or softly humming a song while you’re together, every little thing he does says, “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

[dandelion-system]

Hello!

I’m not sure of the extent of our covert-ness, as a couple of people have said after our diagnosis that they ‘had a feeling something was going on’. But, nobody ever bought it up before our diagnosis, except the occasional snarky comment from my mum that I acted like ‘a 2 year old’ sometimes or I was just ‘not the dandy she knew’

But other than that- im reckoning that we were pretty covert.

I (Raven) haven’t been around as long as some of the others, so I’m gonna go off what they’re telling me. But according to them, when we were physically younger, we would very, very frequently have conversations with, arguments with, debates with ourself using we/us pronouns. As a kid we just told ourself we were using the royal we, and woke did it when we were alone. But we did it. Lots of disagreements over food and clothes and what games to play or shows to watch- and also a lot of ‘mum is gonna kill us’ ‘stop being so dramatic ugh look at us!’ ‘Why am I talking like this?’ ‘I’m just gonna be quiet for a bit now.’

I wasn’t aware back then that these were alters, but it’s the earliest I can say that we have been communicating.

Come our early teen years, and this I remember doing myself because I was a little weirdo as a 13 year old- we got really into spirituality, both the meditation kind and the ghosts kind. I think it was me and Cass, and I was more ghost and Cassie was more meditation. Anyway, I was like, 90% sure we were haunted, and I would talk to the ghosts in my head. I was hanging around some witchy people at the time so I was completely convinced this was normal. Cassie did a lot of visualisation meditation, and she got actual VISUALS! she met up with Sasha most, but saw some others. I don’t know and she’s asleep so I won’t bother her.

Pre system discovery, communication was not exactly easy or something we understood. Post discovery, it’s been a bit better. We’re still covert, except for the people who know our diagnosis.

The thing that started making us think about being a system was actually a psychology class. We were doing a childhood unit and talking about how emotional needs need to be met for regular development, and I started thinking, and I started realising that we actually had a really rough time of it. A bunch of circumstances and bad environments had likely led us to develop a bunch of the ‘irregular’ behaviours we were studying in class. We’ve always been curious, so we started looking at patterns in behaviours.

Eventually, we found that the only things we could see a pattern in was memory loss. This led us to discovering dissociation and how it can cause amnesia.

Fast forward a bit, and we’re looking into things that cause dissociation and consider DID. The host at the time starts noting shifting food preferences, shifting gender, shifting opinions and feeling of what age we were, shifting priorities, likes and dislikes. It’s a while before anything comes of this, but we start noticing patterns. We always feel x, y, z at the same time, for example one of our alters, who we still struggle to distinguish we sorta have a checklist almost? Feels like a boy, but not fully, loves the rain, hates milk, feels 14.

Some alters have been easier to communicate with than others just due to willingness to be seen and heard. Others still try and hide away from front, mask as ‘host’ or pretend to be another alter so they don’t get noticed.

I think I may have rambled a bit so I’m sorry about that. I think overall, what I’m saying is that it’s been a journey to be able to communicate with parts, even after being diagnosed for two years and knowing about the system for three. Some parts still won’t communicate, some that used to now refuse, and some like myself have slowly been able to get more confident in talking. But it’s really fluid. Sometimes it’s like no one is there at all, and sometimes it’s like there’s 5 or 6 of us in front, and it’s so loud then. Sometimes I can see them trying to talk to me, or feel it? But not hear it. Sometimes I can hear it but can’t see it. Sometimes we need to be dissociated to communicate properly. Sometimes it takes a lot of focus to communicate. It’s going to be different for each alter, too. I can almost always communicate with James and the few littles that always hang around, but I’m not so great when it comes to other alters.

I guess it all just comes down to patience. And not being afraid to get it wrong. Anyway, I hope this was helpful and not just a big old ramble haha. I hope you’re okay too!

Any systems who were very Covert before discovery how did you discover/start communicating with your parts?

Anymore resources or personal experience would be helpful to me, whether through this post, or my ask box if you want to remain anon

Note: i do not know any confirmed names or information about them please do not give me resources that only contribute to already established/known parts, thank you.

[mew-less]

erm hi guys. LIFE UPDATE LOL. Sorry for going south for the winter with this blog 😴😴 i might come back . might not. still thinking about it. BUT HELLO!!! yes the moomins garden au is still a thing and i have still been thinking about it! however at the moment i am currently diseased with a dreamworks trolls hyperfix. so u know.