#because i know what I would choose if i had to

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Birthday to Fallen London; My favourite British people beefing it with bats simulator.

[midnite-c6]

Listen… hear me out on a little squid games au

pink guard!namgyu and thanos who has a thing for the timid!reader.

i’m thinking a group game but no one picks you because they all believe you’re not strong enough and instead of killing you instead they bring you to one of their bedrooms…

THE WAY U COOKED WITH RHIS ASK OMGGGG them spoilin u bcuz they feel bad u didnt get chosen huhu NEED THAT! I SEE THE VISIONN

pink guard!thanos & pink guard!nam-gyu x reader imagine!!!🫶🏻

warnings: 18+ DARK content, dubcon (pleaseee read at ur own risk!!)

the way you were so quiet during the last game and during voting, how you were also one of the last players to get to the finish light in green light, red light, it was evident noone was gonna pick you in their team :( and you can't do anything but accept that fate, shamefully begging for someone to let you join, they'd all tell you their already full or even worse they need someone more stronger!

so when the timer is almost over in picking out groups and everyone's already grouped up, they'd see you in the corner with tears in your eyes begging how "please... somebody... pick me..!" with pleading eyes, and how everybody has already concluded your fate, you're fucked.

everybody watches as two guards escort you out of the room, with you're puffy red eyes, you cried out "i don't wanna die! pl-please, let me live, pleaseee!!"

the two guards take you to a small room, like a dorm, and they'd lay you down the bed. "don't worry, you won't be eliminated as it's unfair that you didn't get picked, you are allowed to skip this game until all the players have finished the game." one of the masked guards said in a monotone voice, they both had a triangle symbol on their masks. "wha... what?" the other guard sits down next to you, his hands carefully rubbing on your back as to comfort you, you'd tilt your head up to look at the standing guard, taking off his mask. he'd show blue eyes, purple-dyed hair, piercings on his ears, and a terribly handsome face. "you're the one killing people...?" he laughed at your shock, "shhh.. don't worry, angel, you're alive and well right now." he said with a sly smile. "what's your name player 54?, it's a shame nobody chose such a pretty girl like you.." you'd immediately say your name out of fear. noticing how the guard that was sitting next to you was getting extremelyy touchy. he'd also take off his mask, showing his slightly-long black hair and a more sharper face shape. "we'd choose you on our team anytime, let's have some fun while they do, huh?" you didn't know what he meant by "fun", and you sure as hell didn't know why these two considerably young men would be apart of this cruel game..

nsfw below!! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡->

you were crying about how you weren't getting picked a few hours ago, now you were crying of overstimulation!! huhu, poor you, they'd lay you down on the bed comfortably, strip your clothes right off, and start to kiss and worship your body head to toe. the one with the slightly-long hair was pumping his middle and ring finger in and out of your cunny,, his tongue laps up and down your clit making you make sounds you'd never thought you'd ever make!! whilst the purple-haired male was taking his time marking your body, sucking and lightly nipping on both your nipples. he'd mumble against your skin, "you're so tasty.. let it all out, yeah?" as the other one slips in another finger. you were already so full with just his fingers!! you'd look down through your blurry eyes to see him, his mouth dripping in your cum and juices, "c..can't take it anymore.." he'd stop, "but why? maybe that's why people didn't choose you, you're too weak, even for this..." you know that wasn't true! you're stronger than that you swear! you wanted to prove him wrong... "that's it, knew you were obedient enough, you can take one more..." it was infact, not one more, and now you had to endure both of them overstimulating you to the max in pleasure!! why are the players playing in that stupid game six-legged race taking so long, anyway?! it already finished an hour ago, but they needed that extra treat (you!!).⁠♡

[hyunjinners]

✧:･ﾟHeartache → Stray Kids x reader ˚₊· ꒰🍃꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊ during an argument, they raise their voice at you, uttering hurtful words.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊ maknae line! x fem! reader 

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊ discussion, angst, established relationship.

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊ shouting, insults, fights, anxiety, insecurities (on both sides). Any scenarios, names and groups mentioned are pure fiction! Similarities to real events are purely coincidental. × In some scenarios not everyone is an idol. ×

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊ 2,4k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊ I finally got the inspiration to release the second part of Runaway! If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you go there first :) English is not my first language! I apologize in advance for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist. Enjoy reading! ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist❜ɞ

𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆¡!

Jisung has always been in love with you. You’ve known each other since high school and have always had a strong friendship, never caring about unpleasant comments questioning the possibility of a friendship between a man and a woman. Consequently, over time, he fell in love with you more and more each day he spent by your side, but he never confessed, and you never showed that you felt the same because you wanted to hide it at all costs. Jisung was always very popular because of his talents, so you never thought you deserved to date someone as amazing as him.

Time passed, you were both adults, and Jisung ended up debuting as an idol. Even after so many years, he never had the courage to tell you how he felt, so he just suppressed his feelings. After a long time, he got involved with an idol he met during his trainee days. You didn’t know this, as he couldn’t reveal it to the media, but even when he had the opportunity to tell you, he couldn’t muster the courage. Perhaps his deepest feelings held him back.

You were at Jisung's dorm for a movie marathon, taking advantage of his day off. He got up to go to the bathroom, leaving you to choose what you were going to watch. Jisung's phone, which was beside you on the couch, was vibrating desperately. You were never intrusive, but Jisung had never stopped you from touching his things. Thinking it might be one of the boys or even Jisung's staff wanting to warn him about something, you picked up his phone and checked his notifications.

The contact of a woman, with a heart emoji next to her name, lit up the phone screen, with several messages saying she missed him and that she would visit Jisung in his dorm later. You knew you had no right to meddle in Jisung's life, but the fact that he had hidden this from you, even though you were supposedly someone he trusted, hurt you deeply. When he returned, he was confused by the sad expression on your face. “What happened, little one? Are you okay?” He was utterly confused until he noticed his phone in your hands. His expression shifted from concern to irritation in a matter of seconds. “What were you doing?”

“When were you going to tell me, Jisung? Why... I don’t understand. Are you with someone? Why didn’t you tell me? Since when have you become so cowardly as to forget your trust in me?” At this point, you were both standing, staring at each other, your upset expressions obvious. “And since when do I have to give you any explanations, huh?” He didn’t know why he was so angry, but his confused feelings were preventing him from being clear at this moment. “WE’RE FRIENDS, JISUNG! I’m not just anyone you can simply ignore. I care about you too, you idiot.” Despite your raised tone fueled by anger, you tried to explain your feelings, but Jisung just couldn’t hear you at that moment.

“MAYBE IF YOU WEREN’T ACTING LIKE A FANATIC, I COULD HAVE TOLD YOU!” He exploded, gesturing wildly in complete desperation.

Silence. Those three seconds of silence felt like three hours. This chilling silence was broken by your faint sniffles. You raised your hands to hide your tears. Turning away from him, Jisung could tell he felt shattered inside at that moment. Your tears brought him back to his cruel current reality. “Fanatic? I... I’m not a fan of yours, Jisung. To be honest, now I’m just an idiot who trusted you.”

You didn’t bother to grab your jacket; you just ran to the door. As you opened it, you bumped into Jisung's girlfriend. He tried to run after you, but it was already too late. Now, all he could do was cry—not just because of the argument but because the arms that comforted him weren’t the ones he wanted.

𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗¡!

You had been in a relationship for a little over three years. After Felix proposed to you, you both moved to Busan so you could settle into a calm life before getting married. He was a kindergarten teacher, and you opened a small café near the house you were finishing paying off together. You were the typical cute couple, never having serious fights and always being very happy with each other. Even though the life you both dreamed of was almost finally stable and fulfilled, Felix's family didn’t accept the life he was living. Felix was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, so his family expected him to live like an heir prince; however, he chose to live a quiet life with you, which was clearly reason enough for his family to dislike you.

With only a few months left until the wedding, Felix’s father was making his life a living hell, doing everything he could to make Felix give up on you. For this reason, Felix had been depressed for several days. You didn’t know what was going on, and he didn’t want to tell you so you wouldn’t get upset, which left you increasingly worried about his condition. He wasn’t eating properly, woke up many times in the middle of the night, and always got startled when the phone or the doorbell rang.

During a walk you took on weekends, throughout the entire route, you noticed he was hyperventilating, and every time you asked him about it, he would just force a smile and say it was nothing. When you were on the corner heading back home, you finally mustered the courage to question him. “Felix… please, don’t lie to me.” You grabbed his arm, making him stop. He looked back at you, his expression completely exhausted. “Lie about what? I already told you it’s nothing. Please, leave me alone.”

His tone wasn’t angry—it was more tired. He didn’t want to be so rude, but the pressure his father was putting on him had really messed with his mental health. He freed himself from your weak grip, quickly walking home.

After you entered your small and cozy living room, while Felix was taking off his jacket, you stopped in front of him in another attempt to make him talk.

“Don’t you trust me? Felix, I’m not here to judge you. I’m really, sincerely worried about you.”

He just ignored your desperation, going upstairs to the bathroom. You followed him without a second thought, determined to make him speak. “Love, you can count on me! I—”

“COULD YOU PLEASE STOP?! Please, I’m begging you, let me breathe! Just for a moment.”

He stopped at the top of the stairs, making you stop halfway up. You were startled by the look Felix gave you. He had never, ever, yelled at you. You weren’t angry with him, but it did affect you in some way. Before you could say anything else, you just apologized, walking past him and locking yourself in the bedroom.

He immediately rushed to the bedroom door as soon as you entered, his hand hovering over it, wondering if he should knock or not. He rested his forehead right there, finally allowing himself to cry after holding back for days. He really needed this relationship to work.

He couldn’t live without you.

𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍¡!

Seungmin was the ideal partner from your point of view. He was a surgeon and heir to a hospital franchise, and you were a dermatologist from a family of politicians. People always had high expectations of your relationship: from your family and friends to the media, which saw you as a reference. Seungmin wasn’t exactly the temperamental type of man; to be honest, he always preferred to withdraw from problems until things calmed down so he could resolve the situation clearly and organized. However, the course of the days was draining all his patience and usual calm. The hospital was chaotic, and Seungmin’s father was dumping all his frustrations on his son, leaving him stressed.

Your father met with you earlier during a lunch that was apparently a family gathering but turned out to be another ploy for his threats. There were some problems happening in politics, so he needed some distraction for his troubles, and obviously, your marriage would be the perfect target. He wanted you to announce a pregnancy as soon as possible so that the media could focus on you, giving him time to sweep everything under the rug. You didn’t give your father an answer, saying you would think about it. Seungmin was clearly irritated with him but said nothing.

At this moment, you were lying on your bed, finishing reading your book while waiting for Seungmin to finish changing after taking a long hot shower in an attempt to calm himself down… which didn’t exactly work. He sits next to you, so you close your book, looking into his tired and irritated eyes. “babe…”

“Are you really going to keep going with this?” Seungmin interrupts you, his expression neutral. However, behind his eyes, there’s a clear flame of disappointment and a bit of anger. Not at you, but at this moment, he didn’t care to distinguish where it came from. “What do you mean?” you ask, confused. “You no longer live for yourself. Are you really going to keep doing your father’s will?”

“Seungmin, he just wants what’s best for both of us-”

“HE DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOU! He never cared and won’t in the future. You’re just a means for him to get rid of the media. Are you really that naïve?”

You look at him dumbfounded, feeling not just sadness but pure shock. Deep down, you knew he was right, but his bluntness truly shook you. You don’t hide your tears but say nothing. You just get up, leaving to God knows where, leaving him behind with a heavy heart. “I’m sorry…”

𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍¡!

You and Jeongin had been trainees for just over a year. You both started around the same time, so you were relatively close… or almost that. For some unknown reason, Jeongin decided that he would hate you to death. From the first time you performed together, he would look you up and down as if he didn’t want you to breathe in the same space as him. What you didn’t know was that Jeongin was hopelessly in love with you, but since this relationship would never be possible if it depended on the company, he masked his feelings with anger, so you wouldn’t get close to him in any way and make the situation worse for him.

JYP prepared a project, a program aimed at presenting the two groups that would debut: the boy group Stray Kids and the girl group M4ya, the group you were part of. During one of the stages, the proposal was to unite the units of each group, with the objective of exploring their talents. As the main vocal of M4ya, you ended up getting the project alongside Seungmin and Jeongin. In the beginning, you were mostly nervous because you never understood his behavior and were afraid you would end up fighting. You trained together for hours, adjusting your vocals while giving and receiving tips from each other.

It was a very important project, since it would be the first time you were doing something independently, without the help of vocal teachers, just relying on your learned abilities. Seungmin was being a great help to you, since, as you were nervous, your voice wasn’t coming out the way you wanted. Maybe a little insecurity was also clouding your mind, so Seungmin offered to help. At the end of the recordings, you politely bowed, thanking him for his help and effort. When Seungmin left, leaving just you and Jeongin, he rolled his eyes at you while speaking calmly, “It doesn’t surprise me that your voice was failing so much. You look like a chicken in the butcher shop before being sold, you’re shaking so much.” You stared at him, this time tired of his teasing.

“You know, I’ve really been ignoring your behavior the whole time I’ve known you, but I would like to know why you’re like this. I never did anything to you!”

“So you think you’re a saint?” He let out a small, disdainful laugh. “No wonder you’re so snobby.”

“Then tell me, Jeongin! WHY? Why do I deserve so much criticism?” He massaged his temples, his voice was irritated at that moment. “WHY CAN’T YOU STOP BEING SO INSECURE?! So, you need that much validation, huh? Spare me.” He laughed, turning his back while fixing his bag, ready to go to the dorm. However, not long after, he stood frozen in place upon hearing your sniffles. You ran your hand over your face, hiding it from Jeongin. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, but you were too sensitive at that moment.

“You know, Jeongin, I shouldn’t justify myself to you, but I’ve always tried my best to get here, and all I hear in return for my effort is criticism after criticism. So, yes, maybe I am a little insecure girl who doesn’t know where to go without validation, just like you said. Just don’t come any closer, please. Leave me alone.” He was shocked, not having processed the situation. He never thought it could come to this point, and now he was agonizing with hatred, surprisingly, for himself. “I messed up so much now.” He crouched on the floor, running his hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to contain his tears of pure frustration.

ε ї з — like × reblog! by: @hyunjinners ❜ɞ

ε ї з — taglist: @oc3anfloor @apple-kiwi

[pompadoriangray]

I understand what you're saying here and I understand where the concern is coming from. this is of course about tv shows and while those are not the fandom circles I run in anymore, the general idea does transfer to other mediums. in one of my fandoms, not even a year and a half had passed since the game's release when people were saying "oh, it's time to shut down [thing] because the fandom is dead," when it isn't and wasn't. which baffled me at the time. people were upset about it (understandably so) because there was no need to do this whatsoever. even if the moderation team had grown tired of dealing with [thing], they could have just as easily handed the reins over to someone else. just deciding that "oh, everyone is going to move on to [new fandom]" is such a weird, short-sighted thing to say. so I know that in today's modern fandom culture this is a genuine concern! younger fandomers are being exposed to fast fashion only to see that sort of thing translated into fast fandom. we're here for a few months after release and then everyone leaves! and that's awful.

but I honestly struggle to be that negative. because I'm still in fandoms for things that came out years and years and years ago. I spent the majority of the last year writing novel-length fics for an almost dead fandom. I'm now writing an effectively novel-length fic that is going to be an even longer coding project for a game that released in early February. even if young fandomers choose to adopt fast fandom practices (and don't get me wrong, this does sucks and does affect us!), we don't have to. and the majority of people my age have not done this. there are still people writing spirk! fast fandom will only become the norm if we all decide to adopt this as the standard, and I for one am not about to do so.

I will also say that this does have a positive slant to it. those people who are ready to drop fandoms after a few months of being in them were never really in them at all. we're all concerned about the increased commercialization of fandom, and that's extremely fair, but I think it is those fast fandomers that are most concerned about that kind of thing. those of us who stick with characters and storylines for the long haul just keep on trucking as they have been, even if the chance of the creator(s) seeing our work (be that art, writing, or meta) diminishes substantially. in those terms, I would even argue that those fast fandomers leaving is a good thing! it frees the rest of us up to really commit without fear of being told that we're not commercially friendly enough.

and just on a personal level, as someone who only ever gets into fandoms after characters have marinated in my brain for a while, I'm perfectly all right with not being super popular and instead being discovered by those people who are late to the party or in it for the long haul ♥

Is it just me or has consuming media started to feel like a chore? Sonic Prime is out now and I want to watch it and join in on the hype and the discussion, but since it’s a Netflix series I can’t just watch the first episode and be caught up right away, I have to binge 8 whole episodes.

There isn’t the fun of talking about a specific episode, gifing scenes and making inside-jokes about parts of dialogue, because all of the small details are lost in the deluge of the overall story. There is no fun to be had waiting for next week, because we are conditioned to just consume and then move on to the next thing.

I’m afraid to get into streaming shows. It feels like such a massive time-investment to binge it all, and pacing yourself is hard when the rest of the fandom is already caught up. You have to exclude yourself from discussion just to be able to appreciate single episodes. And this has started turning me off on TV shows in general, not just the streaming ones, because it no longer feels personal. It feels more like a cultural obligation to watch the latest show. And I don’t think it’s fun to feel like you’re doing chores by watching a show.

I miss the little jokes. I miss talking and theorizing about incidental characters. I miss people catching and commenting on little background details. I miss inside jokes. I miss complaining about release schedules and long hiatuses. I miss looking at upcoming episode titles and incorrectly assuming what’s going to happen. I miss theory-crafting based on details that turned out to be innocuous. I miss fanfiction that becomes outdated the moment the next episode comes out.

I miss having fun.

[aninipanin1]

Some ideas for Manager are them accidentally getting hit with an off course ball, learning how to play football so they can help out a bit or perhaps, for old manager (but ig young manager could work too), them having used to play football before and having the world five/the coaches help them brush up on their rusty skills so they can help the boys with overtime practice, perhaps?

Sorry, I can't say I have any more ideas beyond this

KICKED TO THE HEAD

Notes: This req is lowkey so cute! I chose young manager instead if youre fine with it hehehe, but I will try to make another one to answer the other two req because I lowkey like them.

"Hmm, next on my to-do list is to check up on each stratum. Hmm, since the closest to where I am is the German Stratum, I'll head there first!"

You found yourself skipping away to where the training field was, where you know the players were currently training. It was a not-so regular day in the Blue Lock Facility due to the fact that the continuation of the Neo-Egoist League matches will be held in 3 days time.

Hence, all players, masters and even staff were busy, slaving away in their training or jobs. You decided to just give a small peek to each stratum, wanting to ask anyone if all are alright and well-taken cared off.

As the manager, you always found yourself feeling unsatisfied if even one of the players are not very comfortable with whatever it is that is under the guise of your job. Their cleats are a bit too uncomfortable? Your bad, you didn't pick the right cleats for them! Was the bedsheets a bit itchy? Oops, you did not di your job well to make it clean and spotless.

Sure, it was a lot of pressure, but you liked it. It made you feel useful, made you feel motivated, made you smile. Were you a masochist? Maybe, but if its for the betterment of the players, you were ready to do it. After all, the Blue Lockers, Ego and Anri were not the only ones dreaming for Japan to win the World Cup.

Putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, you entered the training field where you can see the Bastard Munchen players were running around the field, doing simulations and other strategical work that you could not help but be impressed with.

'Wow...the places where the players are are so fitting for their playstyles! That's Bastard Munchen for you! Very logical!'

A smile was on your face as your eyes followed where the ball was passed from player to player. Watching matches, practice or not, is always entertaining for you. The cogs in your mind spinning and turning, trying to connect and make sense with all the details and information your eyes can take in.

It always feels entertaining and freeing to do this. To spectate, to watch each player. Like you were the audience of an orchestra or a mastermind behind the pieces of a chessboard. Everything and everyone felt like they were within arm's reach, like you were a puppeteer choosing not to move the strings and instead, let your dolls move themselves.

But, you know that if you so much as wish to affect the game, you can.

"Do you see anything, Y/n?"

Almost jumping due to the shock, you turned to face the French master, Noel Noa, who looked at you curiously. You have been quite close with the master strikers in the facility, especially Noel Noa, who seemed to be quite fond of you, too, finding your nature and aura quite adorable. Maybe it was because you were quite young and still naive, or maybe it was because you were always so happy and excited to learn more about the sport, he did not know.

But, what he does know is you were a very precious kid he would like to take under his wing.

"Um, its just the usual I see, Noa-san. Nothing too big! Maybe its because its just practice..?"

You tilted your head, looking down on your notebook that had many doodles and notes you made throughout the week. There were doodles of the players and what they need to improve on. And well, you were more than happy to add more to the things you already totted down.

However, due to this, you did not really see the missed shot Kaiser did, while he trained his infamous Kaiser Impact again and again. Nor did you hear the shouts of some of the players about the incoming ball, or hell, even the shwip sound of the ball as it rushed through the air and went to where your head was.

So, to your surprise, when you find yourself blacking out for a second due to a hard force impacting on your forehead, that it made you sit on the floor. It hurt, yes, and you can feel the blood dripping from your nose, but the most dominant reaction you can feel is shock.

Meanwhile, the rest of the players, were not as calm as you were.

"Oi, Kaiser, you bastard! I'm gonna punt you!" Isagi shouted from the other side of the field as he stood up, ready to fight the German striker.

"Y/n-chan!! Are you okay?!" Hiori and Ness were the first ones to run to where you are, worried about your dazed expression.

"Kaiser. Laps around the field." Noa's eyes were slanted like a hawk, as he kneeled beside you, patting your head softly to comfort you a bit.

Kaiser, on the other hand, was the most petrified of all. He knows how much force his kick had, from experience and, of course, his own knowledge of his strength. And he was very much worried and shocked, blinking his blue eyes like he saw something very traumatising.

He didn't mean to. He knows he did nof. But that did not make him feel less bad. Especially since he hurt you of all people. The only person who was not rude to him, but also did not patronise him like a certain someone (ahem, Ness), even if he acted like a douche to you in the beginning of the Neo-Egoist League.

And also the fact that you weren't like him and the other players, who were used to receiving any loose ball that had hard and forceful impacts. But even then, he couldn't move fast enough to be the first one to make sure you were okay.

"Y/n-chan, where are you right now? What team and stratum are you in?" Yukimiya also was beside you, asking questions to make sure you didn't have a concussion or any brain damage. Thankfully, you answered all his questions quite well, and you didn't seem to be hurt at all. Just shocked and a bit sore from the impact, but nothing major.

"I'm fine, everyone. I wasn't just paying attention. Sorry, everyone. Sorry, Kaiser-"

"Why the fuck are you the one apologising? You were the one hurt!" Kaiser said out of nowhere, holding your shoulder as you blinked at the mini outburst he had. The blonde-haired man was panting, although not too heavily, it was still noticeable that he was heaving due to the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders.

At first, you thought it was because of the practice, but the worried look beneath the usual nonchalance in his eyes told you otherwise.

"U-uh...sorry- um no wait- I meant, its just because you got blamed for all of it when it was an accident and now you're in trouble."

"I don't give a crap about that. Just...just go to the damn clinic...make sure...you're not having a concussion or whatever."

Like a drunkard being poured cold water, Kaiser realized that you two were not the only people in the field, and that many eyes were watching. So, he retracted his arms and turned around, trying his best to hide the confusing mixture of worry and self-disappointment as he walked back to the field.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked as he sat beside you, Kurona sitting on your other side ontop of the clinic bed as some of the Bastard Munchen players stood infront of you, also wanting to make sure you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. This is nothing."

"If you say so, but if you feel dizzy or just if anything is wrong, tell us immediately." Yukimiya said he held the ice pack to where the ball hit, while you wiped the excess blood from your nose.

"Yeah, yeah! Its bad to hold back what you're feeling." Kurona added, while Hiori was just quiet as he gave you your stuff, placing it on the desk beside the bed.

Meanwhile, Kaiser and Ness also stood beside you, Ness, along the worried ones as he patted your head softly, hopeful that it might help in some way, shape or form. Meanwhile, Kaiser and Isagi were already starting to argue, Isagi telling Kaiser to becareful next time and Kaiser being on the defensive as the two threw roast upon roast against each other.

"Your blindass is so rich, you can't even buy sports glasses? Even Yukimiya is responsible enough to do that!"

"Oh, please. I'm blind? You're fucking senseless."

The rest of players, well except for Ness who was fully supporting and backing up Kaiser, just watched with done and dotted eyes.

"Jesus, they never shut up, huh?" Hiori rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Theyre too, too intense sometimes." Kurona added as finally, Yukimiya sighed and gave his polite smile.

"I think thats enough for today, you two. Y/n-chan needs her peace and quiet to recover."

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BARCHA

"Bachira!! We can't!!" Kitsunezato said as he tried to stop the said striker from walking out.

"Yeah, you know that Lavinho-san won't like it." Hayate added, but Bachira was far from listening.

"NO! I need to see if Y/n-chan's okay!! I'll beat that German up the next time I see him!!"

"Please, don't- C'mon Otoya! Help us out here!" But, unfortunately for them, Otoya was somewhat agreeing to what the brown and blonde haired striker was saying and Kitsunezato sensing this, immediately prayed to whatever god there was, and even better plead to Otoya, himself.

"Oh god, please don't! We have enough with Bachira here! It was an accident!"

"But there is no accident when it comes to Y/n-chan being hurt!!" Bachira fought back.

"I agree-"

"Shut the hell up, Otoya!"

MANSHINE CITY

"WHAT?! Is she okay?!" Reo panicked when he heard the news.

"I swear, its always those from Bastard. What the hell is even happening in that stratum?" Chigiri said with annoyance and worry. Why does chaos always happen in that stratum he wondered.

"Y/n-chan...is she better now?" Nagi, commented from his bed, eyes abnormally wide, like a cat roused from its sleep by a predator.

"Yeah, I heard she's fine. She didn't have any serious concussion anything, which is lucky for all of us! She just needs to rest earlier today, but she will still be able to do her duties tomorrow!" The red-haired said, repeating what he heard from Isagi.

"Good. I kind of feel bad but happy at the same time. I want her to rest, but at the same time I want her to keep working so we can see her again tomorrow." Reo admitted, his back plopping on his bed, purple eyes looking up at the ceiling lights.

"I don't want Y/n-chan to be replaced as our manager, ever..."

"I don't think anyone in here wants that to happen at all, Nagi."

UBERS

"I should've kicked a ball straight to that Kaiser's face when I had the chance."

"That is a red card, Barou, but I don't even think I would stop you. Go wild." Niko sighed. The Ubers players just heard of the news and most of them were not happu with what they heard.

"Poor Y/n-chan, that has to hurt. I remember the first time I got hit on the face, and I'm a defender so I'm used to that! But she isn't even a player." Oliver said, cringing at the thought of being hit by a ball, much less from someone of Kaiser's calibre.

"Damn straight! And those useless peasants couldn't even protect her from those guys. Those damn donkeys." Barou said, his mind towards a specific raven-haired striker that he knew was not only his main rival, but also the main rival of Kaiser and hence why, he believed he was the most responsible for you not managing to avoid the ball in time.

PXG

"Charles! We're training that new move we're planning to make it better and make it hurt for our match with those Germans!" Shidou said, clearly pissed off at the news. The French midfielder only nodded his head, cheering along with the pink-haired striker.

"Fucking lukewarms, you should do it secretly not infront of the many cameras around this damned facility." Rin rolled his eyes, even he wasn't impressed when he heard that you got injured, much less bleeding!

"For the first time, you didn't say anything dumb, Rin-rin. You heard him Charles! We're going to meet up with that German bastard!"

"Yay! Yay! We're gonna avenge Y/n!"

But unfortunately for them, and fortunately for everyone else, Karasu was there to stop the two, holding the scruff of their uniforms immediately.

"Now, now. As much as I also want to square up on that guy, we can't go monster against his ass or do you wanna be electrocuted again, Shidou?"

The blonde and pink haired striker blinked at that and finally shrugged.

"We'll just have to beat them in the upcoming games. So, ya'll better train hard." Karasu said with finality as he headed to his room with the other Blue Lock players, and that idea did not sound bad at all in Rin, Shidou and even Charles' ears.

I hope you guys liked this one! This was supposed to be fun but it turned into some sort of twisted Kaiser angst piece lolol

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[lisdens]

i fear some people aren't ready to face the fact that at some point vi had to let go of her martyr sister/parentified-child role because it would also mean understanding that jinx is an adult who makes her own choices and doesn't need protection the same way she needed back when they were kids. vi says so herself ('why did you come get me? you don't actually need my help, you haven't for a long time').

everyone who expected vi to become some sort of leader for zaun didn't understand that the reason she fought so hard in her youth for her family was because what she truly craved for was safety for herself and her loved ones. it's the whole reason she has that conversation with vander back in episode 2 of season 1.

vi going after jinx when caitlyn opens the cell would only reinforce the idea that vi has to step into the role of caregiver/protector again. vi isn't jinx's mom, she's her sister, and she has her own battle against her internal demons.

in fact, she spirals down very quickly once locked inside the cell, which is later reflected when caitlyn finds her; she's certain she screwed up again and she believes she's lost both jinx and caitlyn, and she knows it happened because vi was being herself, by doing something she wouldn't have done during her act1 self.

her fallout with caitlyn happened because caitlyn couldn't accept who vi truly is, so how can vi expect caitlyn to be okay with what she's done, when that was the reason they grew apart in the first place?

because caitlyn chooses vi, she prioritizes her over her revenge. caitlyn lets go of it because she loves vi for who she is, and not despite it.

jinx and vi love each other unconditionally, even if they don't understand each other entirely ('i didn't get to do much of this with my sister, she was more into hitting things'), so how could anyone outside of her family love vi, while simultaneously understanding her?

vi probably just went through ten different scenarios of how caitlyn is going to reject her for it, for showing who she is, and who she's always been.

and what does caitlyn do in response?

by this point caitlyn doesn't believe vi has forgiven her, so the whole 'you've grown a bit predictable' isn't a pickup line to get in her pants.

this is caitlyn's attempt at cracking a joke.

vi's worries are met with a dumb phrase that's meant to cheer her up, the same way vi did back in episode 1 ('thought for sure you were gonna get yourself killed').

she spiraled down believing she had lost everyone, and caitlyn proves her wrong with an easy smile and a reassurance; 'this is who you are, i know it, watch me be more than okay with it'.

this, for vi, must feel so, so freeing.

this is the one thing she's been craving for her whole life; the feeling of safety. i'm me, and i'm safe to exist that way in here.

she spent her entire childhood fighting to provide that stability for her family because she was given no other choice but to step into that role, she pushed her own needs aside to make sure everyone else was okay. and now, her sister is an adult who has survived without vi's protection, who has accomplished a lot of things without her big sister by her side.

now it's vi's turn to crave safety, it's vi's turn to choose and let someone else make her feel safe and reassured.

vi's not a symbol of zaun, that's what characters like sevika and ekko exist for; neither of them were pressured to step in and take that role, they fight for their city because they chose to and because they want to (and, if i might add, they're very good at it!).

she's just a girl who went through some really fucked up things in life and only ever wished for a little stability.

and she finds that in caitlyn, so she chooses it.

[mellowmusings]

Blessed mistakes | Prologue Azriel x Reader

A/N- This is just a drabble for now and its been sitting in my drafts for a while so i decided to post it. Not sure if i'm gonna continue on this though.

summary- After over 5 centuries of waiting Azriel hasn't found his mate, given up all hope of any chance of finding her he decides to start pursuing Elain, not seeing what was in front of him all along.

This was miserable, He was miserable.

The stale tavern air reeked of unwashed bodies, alcohol and bile. Men and women sang bawdy songs in offtune tones drowning out the music, in a corner a brawl went on, men punching one another over a rigged game of poker, women flirted with him, and none took to his liking.

How the mighty had fallen, he mused. He gulped down his whiskey, the burn in his throat grounding him. A few centuries ago he would have been drinking himself to his limit with his brothers and bedding whatever pretty female came his way, but that wasn't the case anymore. Somewhere along the path he'd fallen in love and started caring for females who could never love him the way he loved them. Now his heart was a stupid, broken mess of emotions and feelings he didn't like, and so he spent his days working himself trying to forget his feelings, now he spent his nights training because even sleep had abandoned hom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been happy, genuinely happy and felt Loved

*2 centuries ago*

The cool summer breeze ruffled his hair, the birds sang in the background, almost harmonizing with one another. He could make out the call of the Mockingjay, A cuckoo bird, and maybe a peacock too. He sat besides y/n, his who was like a younger sister to him. She'd practically grown up with him, Cass and Rhys since they were teenagers. "Hey Az, can i ask you something?" She carefully unfolded the petals of a half bloomed daffodil. "Sure what is it?" "If you had to choose between Mor, your mate and me who would you choose, to love I mean." She asked, a slight hint of nervousness in her voice. Her question caught Azriel off-guard, he loved her but not in a romantic manner, he loved his mate more, no matter who she was, after all, she was his other half. Mor on the other hand was everything he yearned for, she was simply...perfect. He admired and respected her a lot, but more than that he loved her a lot. He thought for a moment before responding "It's tricky, on one hand, there's Mor and on the other, there's my mate. I'd say, my mate" He said carefully, not sure where this was going. Y/n's face fell just the slightest, if he didn't know her well, he wouldn't have noticed, but he did. "What's the matter, princess?" He asked softly, "What about me?" y/n asked softly He huffed out a laugh before responding, "I love you a lot, I really do princess, but you're like a younger sister to me, plus my mate always comes first." "right, of course they do." she said dejectedly, swinging her legs back and forth holding back tears. "Whats the matter princess?" 'The thing is Az you could slit my throat and with my one last gasping breath, I'd apologize for bleeding on your shirt, gods why can't you see it? I love you, and I love you more than you could ever imagine.'

She didn't say those words but gods did she want to, she wanted to tell Az how stupid he was for giving his heart to some females who were just gonna stomp on it and leave but she didn't because Azriel loved Mor and some mate he didn't know more than he loved her. She was always going to be a friend to him, nothing more, nothing less. So she continued swinging her legs and lied to his face with a simple 'I'm fine, I swear'. He didn't believe her, they both knew each other well enough to know that much, still he didn't pry any further. So they sat in silence, and stared at the setting sun while the world around them went quite, she averted her gaze away from Azriel as tears fell and landed on the broken yellow petals. if y'all wanna be tagged, just let me know :) @starlightazriel @scorpioriesling @velarisdusk @siriuslystyle1989

[worfs-glorious-hair]

Update: I got to the tiefling party in my current galemancing run and I wanted to romance Karlach there as well to be able to get this Gale scene above eventually.

But I couldn’t do it. I played several versions of Karlach’s scene and settled on one that I liked the best and that mostly fit the role-playing narrative I had decided for my Tav on why they would even want to consider another person there at camp for intimacy and adoration when they are already madly in love with Gale. The answer was that (my) Tav feels a deep connection to Karlach, a closeness, a gentle and very secure feeling familiarity with her without knowing her for long – and Tav mistakes this for romantic attraction when in reality it is a shard of a memory from another life. Another life Tav and Karlach had spent side by side in Avernus after they had defeated the cult this Tav and Karlach still have to learn and discover so much about until they can even consider defeating it. But in another life was Karlach holding Tav close, kissing their temples and their tears away, just as much fixing their broken heart as Tav actually managed to fix Karlach’s actual heart one day deep inside Avernus in Zariel’s personal forge. A life together, surviving literally and figuratively hell together and loving each other, saving each other over and over again. And of course would the soul remember something like that, of course there is left a connection that spans across worlds and universes….

But for me as a player I have no way to actually tell this story with my role play options there. Instead I would be playing a romance that I don’t feel because the truth is that this Tav does not desire Karlach like the game tells the story of Karlach’s love. And going on like this would break my heart (as the person in front of my console) too much because I would have to choose eventually or better said I already know that I would need to end this with Karlach for Gale. Because for this Tav there will always be just Gale for them. And no one else.

And I just don’t want to break Karlach’s heart. :’)

So I did the reasonable thing (because in the end am I supposed to enjoy this game and I couldn’t do so if I would be playing a lie that doesn’t fit the story I want to tell) and resetted what I had done after the tiefling party and will do it a second time and I will go to bed afterwards ‘imagining where Gale could take me in the weave. Or where I could take him’ like this Tav always does in every life.

favourite moments of bg3 -> (5/?)

[plaidcowboy]

છ rafe’s not the jealous type

“man, where’s the rest of it, huh?” rafe brought the bottle to his lips, knocking back the rest of its contents, setting it down on the table beside him.

he looked over to the guy that spoke. he didn’t feel like playing with the guy, so he cut to it. “you see anymore than that?”

the guy’s gaze turned from you to rafe. he chuckled hesitantly. “nah.. that’s what i’m liking” he smirked.

“i like it too.. i told her it looks pretty before we made our way out” rafe watched you mingle with others, giggling at what someone told you.

the guy stilled. “oh.. didn’t know that was yours.. didn’t know she was anyone’s being out looking like that” he tried to keep up the bro talk.

rafe shrugged. “she’s wearing what she wants to” rafe responded, bored of the conversation. he had no problem with any revealing clothes you may wear. you liked it. rafe liked whatever you liked, sometimes even more than you. that’s all there was to it.

“i would just watch out for guys that’ll look.. i know i am” he kept up the smirk.

rafe shook his head, amused with the guy. “look, sure, i know how good she looks. you wouldn’t be able to do anything else”

rafe grinned as you turned a little to show off your dress to someone. why not show it off? he was proud when you flaunted yourself because you deserved it if it wasn’t coming from him.

he was used to people commenting on your looks and making suggestive comments. people admire pretty things, it’s nothing new. you were all his pretty thing. no one else’s.

touching though, was something else. you wouldn’t mess with a pretty painting at a gallery. it’s disrespectful to the owner.

he avoided violence in front of you. and what better way to solve disputes than with words instead of fists.

“that wasn’t so respectful, was it? to me or her”

they would shake their heads silently.

“right.. so it’s only right you apologize. it made her uncomfortable, and i don’t like that. a sorry would make her feel better”

they would stutter. “uh.. i’m sorry..”

“nah” rafe would suck his teeth, shaking his head. “repeat after me.. ma’am, it was disrespectful of me to touch something so pretty i wasn’t worthy of touching.. i’ll be more respectful towards women”

they would relay the apology.

rafe would turn to you, waiting for your forgiveness or rejection. whichever you felt, rafe did as well. it wasn’t his position to choose for you, he wasn’t the lady who received unwanted interactions. he knew this, so how these situations would go was always up to you.

you would look up at rafe, speaking to him rather than the other person. “it’s okay”

rafe would look at them. “say thank you”

or

you would look up at rafe, softly shaking your head.

rafe would look at the guy. “i don’t accept either. get out of her face.”

you skipped over to rafe and he slightly bent down, ready to hear whatever you seemed excited to share.

“rafe, this girl just called my dress pretty” you said, giddily, twisting yourself and the dress.

rafe smiled. “did she? that’s nice of her..”

rafe looked at the guy. “you have anything to say about the dress?”

you turned to the guy expectantly, excited to receive another compliment.

“uh..” the guy shook his head, suddenly awkward. “nah”

rafe frowned. “nah man, you just had so much to say” rafe didn’t repeat his words, not wanting to upset you. whenever he could keep you from hearing the unsettling comments made about you, he would. nothing could dim your happiness when you were with him.

the guy glanced away, scoffing.

“why don’t you just apologize. save her from getting mad at you”

the guy rolled his eyes. “nah man, i’m good..” rafe stopped him, grabbing his arm when he tried to walk away.

“that wasn’t a request”

the guy gulped, glancing over at you. “look, my bad..”

rafe tsk’d, shaking his head. he gave him the prompt, telling him to repeat the words. he did, and rafe turned to you, awaiting your response.

you looked up at rafe with eyes. “um.. should i?” you weren’t ever aware what the guy said after all.

“nah, baby, that’s all up to you”

you glanced between the two in front of you. “it’s fine”

rafe turned to the guy.

“say thank you.”

[icyg4l]

How Have You Grown Over the Past Year?

Hello beautiful people! Happy New Year! I am so happy to be posting this new PAC for you all. I plan to upload more frequently from now on in this new year of 2025. I am currently available for personal readings so if you would like one, please message me privately! As the title states, this reading is all about recognizing the growth you've made in the past twelve months. So without further ado, please choose the pile that resonates with you the most!

Top Left to Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You must have gone from boo'd up to single, Pile One. I am hearing the word, "uprooted". Throughout the past year, you have been put in uncomfortable situations consecutively. You could have had to switch jobs because of an incident or move homes because of a mold problem (for some of you). You could have lost multiple loved ones. Either way, these situations have helped you become more self-sufficient and resilient. Tragedies are hard to deal with, however, you have learned what not to do. You intuitively picked up on how to handle situations that others would not be able to. You may feel hardened by these particular experiences, unable to see past your traumas. But you are more empathetic than ever. It is important that you know you will be a great teacher some day. One day you will look back on everything that you have accomplished while in the midst of chaos.

Cards Used: 4 of Wands. 3 of Swords. The High Priestess. 5 of Cups. 10 of Cups.

Affirmation: "I am actively rebuilding my life one step at a time."

Pile Two: The past couple of years could have been socially debilitating for you. Some of you could have prominent Saturn placements, such as a 1H Saturn or Capricorn/Aquarius Sun. I am sensing an energy of nervousness here. It's possible that you can have prominent Virgo/Gemini energy too. Anyway, you have had a come-to-Jesus moment. For years, you have allowed yourself to fall behind, to be in the shadows. But now, you you are making the attempt to be heard and seen. But remember who you are doing this for. Is it to wear the shoes of those who've belittled you? Or is it to walk your own path with your head held high? It seems that you are choosing to believe in yourself rather than listening to other people. You're becoming bolder by the minute. It's what your inner child would have wanted. Trusting the ideas that make no sense will be fulfilling to you. Make sure that you continue to leave your mark on this world, dear.

Cards Used: 3 of Cups (RX). The Hermit. 6 of Cups. Judgment. 8 of Wands.

Affirmation: "Expressing myself comes easy."

Pile Three: You deserve a round of applause, babe. It takes a lot of strength and tenacity to be loved. To be vulnerable with someone is to be seen fully by the other person. Your energy feels like a warm embrace. Your goal of feeling whole cannot be completed without the right people around you. Be glad that you've let these people in as they genuinely care for you. You've acquired peace, because you've realized that being hyper-independent isn't enough. Because of pride, many people would not own up to their feelings of insecurity. But because you are honest with yourself and are humble enough to allow honest people in your life, you are now living in a world full of happiness. Peace and quiet is great to bask in. Just stay grounded and don't let self-sabotage get to you.

Cards Used: The World. Strength. Queen of Discs. King of Discs.

Affirmation: "Love and support surrounds me everywhere I go."

Pile Four: Self-concept is important, is it not? That's why you made the decision to stop beating yourself up. You stopped setting unrealistic goals for yourself that could have possibly landed you into the hospital, or a rehab facility. You fought for a healthier body image. You casted spells to feel more comfortable in your skin. You have reflected on the jokes and slick comments, and instead of sulking, you just sat with them. You take them to the chin. It has taken a lot of rewiring to not make yourself the butt of the joke, but here you are. Forgiving yourself is no easy journey. But you have done it. You are doing it. Now don't let anyone, including yourself, deface you again. Letting the haters hate you, instead of being a self-hater, is a damn good philosophy that you've added to your noggin, babe!

Cards Used: 7 of Wands. The Emperor. 3 of Wands. 4 of Discs. 10 of Wands (RX). Queen of Wands.

Affirmation: "I accept my body in every form that it comes in"

[sofiatarot]

Pick a card: The first impression your future spouse will have of you

(written as individual stories from their perspective because why not???)

1/2

3/4

Group 1:

The moment I saw you, it felt like the world shifted (the tower). You had this electrifying presence, someone who doesn’t go unnoticed. There was something striking about your confidence (the queen of wands) the way you carried yourself like you owned every space you entered. But beneath that, I sensed a vulnerability, a softness you keep guarded (the moon).

You seemed like a dreamer, someone with big aspirations and a vision for life (the star). I admired the spark in your eyes, but I also felt you’d been through challenges that shaped your strength (the 9 of wands). There was an unspoken depth to you, like a story waiting to be unraveled. Meeting you wasn’t just exciting, it felt fated (the wheel of fortune). I knew instantly I wanted to know everything about you, to understand the fire and the mystery within.

Group 2:

When I first saw you, you felt like a breath of fresh air (the fool). You were radiant, glowing with positivity and a sense of wonder that drew me in immediately. There was a purity to your energy, as if you saw the world through hopeful eyes (the sun).

What stood out most was your ability to balance lightheartedness with grace. You seemed so composed, yet approachable (temperance). I was intrigued by how effortlessly you connected with those around you, like you brought harmony wherever you went (the 6 of pentacles).

But then, I noticed something deeper. Behind your warmth, there was a quiet intelligence and a mind that didn’t miss a thing (the page of swords). You’re not just light and joy, you’re thoughtful, someone who sees life for what it truly is and chooses to focus on the beauty anyway. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.

Group 3:

You took my breath away. There was an elegance about you, a quiet strength that radiated calm and control (the high priestess). You seemed untouchable, as if you lived in a world of your own creation (the 7 of cups). I couldn’t help but admire how composed you were, how you exuded wisdom without even saying a word (the hermit).

But I also saw your passion, the fire that flickered behind your calm exterior (the knight of wands). You’re someone who follows their heart, even if it means taking risks. It made me wonder what fuels that passion, what dreams, what desires, what secrets.

Meeting you felt like standing before a masterpiece. You’re both inspiring and intimidating, someone I knew would challenge me to grow (the emperor). You were unforgettable, and I was already captivated by the idea of uncovering all your layers.

Group 4:

You had this grounded, earthy energy that immediately made me feel at ease (the king of pentacles). You seemed so dependable, someone who could be both nurturing and fiercely protective (the empress). There was a warmth to you, like you could make anyone feel at home just by being near.

But what caught my attention was your determination. You’re someone who doesn’t give up easily, and it shows in the way you carry yourself (the 8 of pentacles). I could tell that you’ve worked hard to be the person you are, and it made me admire you even more.

There was also this magnetic charm about you, as if you didn’t realize how captivating you were (the lovers). You’re the kind of person people dream about meeting, the perfect balance of strength and tenderness (the strength). From the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to build a life with you, one rooted in love and stability.

got me blushing, giggling n kicking my feet

[jabbasyogainstructor]

Marriage wasn’t even forbidden for Ki-Adi Mundi, who had four wives and several children due to his race basically becoming an endangered species, and he did this with the council’s blessing.

Yoda and Yaddle were (as far as anyone knows) the last of their species due to their home planet, along with most of their race, being destroyed. In all likelihood, Grogu is their child. The first season of the Mandalorian did establish that Grogu may be a strandcast, sort of a genetically modified clone? It’s possible that they both donated DNA to create a new species member and skirted around the council rules, but it still makes them parents if this is ever revealed.

It’s also possible that it means there’s more Grogus running around. That is a theory for another day.

In general, anyone saying the Jedi can never be criticized is holding them to a very high standard and also a very low one:

High - putting them onto a pedestal, “the Jedi are good, they’re here to help and keep the peace, they hold themselves to such a high standard that they can’t possibly do anything wrong” which is Calvinist philosophy, and completely wrong. People are going to people. The price of free will is the ability to do right and wrong, the ability to discern the difference, and the ability to choose to do either anyway. Anakin chose to slaughter an entire clan of Tuskens, men, women, and children. Not only did he face no punishment from the Jedi council, but his girlfriend, the most powerful voice of her faction of the Galactic Senate, helped him cover it up, justified it in her mind as “he was just angry,” and then married him a week later, because she didn’t view the Tuskens as people. Anakin remained a member of the order for a further three years and then fully turned to the Dark Side because he was denied a promotion and had a bad dream.

Low- Anakin slaughtered as many defenseless children in the temple as he could reach with his lightsaber, and a shocking number of people gloss over that. I have seen many people try to justify it as “he needed to save Padme!” No. He needed to take Padme to a doctor. They didn’t even know they were having twins. If his solution was “turn to the dark side and then MASSACRE CHILDREN” before he thought of adequate medical attention, I would question every decision he EVER made as a Jedi, and definitely as a husband, future father, or human being. And he had already committed senseless murder before, so this wasn’t news to Padme. The fact that she didn’t immediately tell Obi-Wan that he had done this before when he confronts her with child murder footage shows the level she was willing to stoop to convince herself that Anakin was somehow a good man. It wasn’t just Anakin who was a failure as a Jedi, everyone around him failed, Jedi and civilian alike, when they excused his every bad behavior and said “no, he’s a great guy, he’s just troubled. He needs to blow off steam. He’s being held back. The system is unfair to him.” Nevermind that the Jedi council bent those rules listed above to accept him when he was way too old, let Obi-Wan train him when Obi-Wan was a brand new Jedi Knight with no experience training any padawans at all, let alone one who was deemed both “angry” and with a prophesied destiny that I’m sure Kenobi felt an enormous of pressure to not screw up, and they continually accommodated him in order to fulfill his destiny, by putting him on the council without letting him become a master, making him a general and letting him lead a clone legion, even letting him train a padawan himself when he wasn’t ready. They called it “wartime necessity” but he was also continually referred to as the chosen one by Obi-Wan, Mace, Yoda, and others, enough to make one think he still received some special treatment. Anakin is glorified by the fans and he is held to such a low bar of what good things he actually did that it’s laughable. You could not limbo underneath it.

Friendly reminder that if you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

"They told Anakin he wasn't fit to be a Jedi" Yeah, was he? He was unhappy the whole time, broke all their rules and eventually slaughtered them.

"They massacred the Sith Order" Yeah. Those "I'm better than everyone and everything and they all should kneel to me or die" people? I see no issue here.

"They fought in the Clone Wars as peacekeepers." Yeah. What was the alternative? Standing by as the clones, civilians and the Republic itself (the best government out those in the galaxy, although admittedly that's rather a low bar) were massacred by the Separatists? Yeah no. And peacekeepers ≠ pacifists.

"They forbid marriage." They are a religious organization, monks. Fobidding its members from marrying is pretty standard in monasteries. They also aren't celibate, friendship isn't discouraged at all and it's all but stated by Obi-Wan in TCW S6 that romantic feelings are perfectly allowed. Several of the Order's members practice their home planets' culture and religion and language (Barriss has a Mirilian Idol in her room, she Luminara Quinlan etc have cultural tattoos, many characters have accents which implies Basic isn't their first language and others don't speak Basic at all,etc). They have no dress code, they are allowed to drink, smoke, etc., even become part of other religions organizations (see Plo Koon)! Marriage being forbidden is nothing, literally meaningless next to the freedom Jedi have.

If you're gonna critize the Jedi, they have to be wrong.

No, they shouldn't change their whole way of life just because you don't like it.

[tobesolonely]

untitled angsty but then sweet piece...

hello guys!! it's been like over a year lol. I was going through my google doc and found this and I feel like I never posted it? so now I am posting it. maybe this can be a part 1 but also we know I'm great at starting multipart stories and not finishing them so lets see

૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

warnings: none (~1.2k words)

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

���You're just gonna ignore me then, babe?”

Y/N continues silently puttering around in the kitchen, going out of her way to make sure her back remained turned on Harry. There weren't many ways to get under his skin, but throughout her years of being with him she learned that being on the receiving end of the silent treatment usually made him fold pretty quickly. She was annoyed with her husband and the fact that he seemed clueless as to why made her even more upset.  

“I take your silence as a yes?” 

More puttering. More re-wiping the already clean counters. Starting the tea kettle. Washing her hands. Anything to not acknowledge Harry, really.

“I can’t make it better if you don't tell me why you're so upset, love,” he takes a tentative step toward her. “I know we've been together for ages but I still can't read your mind. Think ‘m gettin’ real close, though.”

This is said jokingly, and she knows her husband is just trying to dissipate the tension that's thick in their kitchen, making the spacious room seem impossibly small. She doesn't acknowledge his joke, doesn't crack a smile because that would give him too much satisfaction. Nothing made Harry cockier than being the reason for Y/N’s laugh, a sound so sweet she’s pretty sure he’d forbid everyone on the planet except him from listening to it because he wanted it all to himself. He always told her it was music to his ears.

The fact that he doesn't even know what he did is what finally causes her to break, muttering about how fucking ridiculous he is under her breath. It's not lost on Harry. 

“Now you've moved on from ignoring me to cursing at me?” he sounds more curious than upset, taking another step toward her. She backs away, defensively crossing her arms over her chest and she doesn't miss the way Harry’s brow furrows at the action. “Can y’please tell me what I did, Y/N? Please?” When she looks down at the ground, ignoring his please, he begs some more. He’s not above groveling, really. 

“Please, angel? Lemme fix it,” his eyes are wide and wild as he wildly searches hers for some clue as to what he did wrong. “Tell me-”

“Am I always just gonna come second with you?” 

She can almost see the wheels in her husband’s head turning, knows he's choosing his words carefully before he speaks so as not to upset her any further. 

“Okay, love,” he runs a ringer hand through his hair. “Can you be a little bit more specific?”

“We had plans this afternoon, Harry. We were gonna try that new café that just opened. I was looking forward to it,” she doesn't care if this makes her sound selfish and childish. “I know you were working and I know you how much you love to do that, but sometimes I feel like-”

“Don’t even finish that thought,”  Harry cuts her off and his tone is sharp, calloused. “That’s not true.”

“You know, at first I was worried something happened when you didn't show,” Y/N continues like she didn't hear him. “But then I realized nope, you probably just forgot or couldn't get out of another meeting. Just like always.”

A look of sadness flashes across Harry’s face, which quickly transforms to indignant anger. “Don't throw this in my face, Y/N. You know how much I hate that.” 

“So I’m supposed to be mindful of the things you hate, but you can't be mindful of the things I hate?”

“You don't get it,” he mumbles under his breath, growing increasingly done with the conversation the longer it drags on. “You're not in the industry. I can't just always leave-” 

“Then blame it on me! Make me the bad guy, Harry,” she finally turns all the way around to face him completely. “The people you work with get to see you more than I do…the fans…” Y/N trails off, letting her unfinished thoughts hang limply in the air. 

It’s quiet between the couple for no more than thirty seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. Harry breaks it first - he always does. He inhaled a deep shaky breath, trying to call forward the breathing techniques his therapist taught him to use in high-stress situations. Right now counts as a high-stress situation. 

“You’re right, angel,” the pet name slips off his tongue easily which comforts Y/N. Harry’s not as upset as she thought he was. He’s still her Harry. “That’s not fair of me, is it?”

All Y/N can do is shake her head, lower lip jutted out. She knows if she tries speaking she’ll start crying, and she doesn't want to cry. All she wants is for Harry to understand. Harry however, knows her too well. He knows the look she gets on her face when she's trying really hard not to cry and he knows she goes silent because she doesn't trust her voice not to come out shakey. He decides to continue talking.

“I should've called you and let you know I’d be late- or told you we needed to reschedule. I’m sorry I left you hanging, darling.” He pauses, selecting his next words very wisely. Harry knows his wife is sensitive. The last thing he wants is for her to think he's blaming her for anything. “...but it seems like this is about more than me missing our lunch. Which, again, I'm very sorry about. I'm taking you wherever you want for dinner tonight and I'll make you dessert when we get home. Let's talk more about this though, yeah?”

“You also have to be in charge of picking up after Hershey for a month,” Y/N responds with a small smile on her face. Hershey was the couple’s tiny brown poodle who was the cutest puppy in the world. “Thank you.”

“Mmm,” Harry hums, knowing his wife was trying to keep the conversation lighthearted since she hated confrontation. Since being with Harry her communication skills have improved tremendously since he was so good at it and wanted to talk about everything, but healthy communication clearly still didn't come as easily to her. “Talk to me, angel. What’s this about?”

Harry’s in front of her now, arms wrapped limply around her waist. He walks her backward until the small of her back hits the counter then he tells her to, “jump” so he can lift her onto the counter. Once she's situated he settles himself in between her legs and places his arms back on their place on her waist. Harry looks intently into Y/N’s eyes and she knows she won’t be leaving that spot until she tells him what's bothering her, so she just says it.

“I want a baby.” 

Harry raises his eyebrows in quick surprise before breaking out in a wide grin- the kind that causes his nose to scrunch up and wrinkles to form around his eyes. 

“You want a baby? W’ me?”

Y/N doesn’t return his smile, which quickly makes Harry’s turn into a frown.

“Why don’t you look happy?”

Y/N sighs, her eyes avoiding Harry’s. He gently places his index finger under her chin and pushes it up, forcing her to look into his eyes. He’s desperately searching his wife’s eyes, trying to figure out why she isn’t more excited about coming to this big decision. Harry has been ready for years of course, but he never wanted her to feel pressured.

“You’re never here, Harry. I don’t want to feel like a single mom.” Y/N looks down again and Harry doesn’t lift her chin back up this time. In fact, he doesn’t say anything. It’s silent for what feels like a couple minutes but is actually maybe only twenty seconds, the faucet leaking being the only sound heard throughout the whole house.

“Y/N…love,” Harry inhales a shaky breath, removing one of his hands from her hip to run his fingers through his curls. “I never want to make you feel like you’re alone. Not just with this, but…with anything.” Harry gently knuckles away a stray tear falling down Y/N’s cheek. 

“I know you don’t mean to make me feel this way, H. I guess it’s just what I signed up for when I married a popstar, yeah?” Harry can tell Y/N is trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t like that he’s the reason for he feeling this way.

“You didn’t “sign up” for anything, love. I’m your husband and you’re my wife and we’re supposed to be there for each other through it all, good and bad.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Harry gently pinches her hip, muttering for her to let him finish. “I want a baby with you. I want everything with you, Y/N. I want to be here for everything. I’m going to be better about being here.”

“H…I love you and I know you’ll try, but you’ve said this before-”

“I’ll take a break, babe. Cancel everything,” Harry’s talking faster now, excitement about his plan evident in his voice. “We’ll focus on ourselves and start our family. Go out of the country and leave my bloody phone here, if you’d like.” Y/N giggles at that, which makes Harry give her a big, dimpled grin.

“Will it be okay? With Jeff and everyone?” Although Y/N’s sure people on Harry’s team won’t be happy with his sudden change in plans, she can’t deny how charming the idea sounds. She could already picture them at their favorite villa in Italy, the one Harry purchased as a wedding gift to her and where they spent their unforgettable honeymoon. In all honesty, she’s surprised they didn’t get a baby out of that trip.

“Let me worry about that. You just worry about buying yourself some new bikinis, yeah?” Harry places a lingering kiss to Y/N’s jawbone. “Perhaps a few things for me to rip off you too, hmm?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

hooray for happy endings :')

[makelemonade]

Would you fall in love with me again?

It’s been four years.

Four years since Diluc kissed you goodbye in the very living room you’re currently sitting in.

Four years since you begged him with tears in your eyes to stay.

Four years since Diluc abandoned you

You hated this house, this stupid, huge, lovely house. Every room, every step you took, just reminded you of him. Every maid, every carve in the walls or the untouched wine cellar was all a reminder of him.

It was your own fault either way, for choosing to stay in the dawn winery, because even though everything reminded you of him, that was it, it reminded you of him.

Forgetting him was something you promised yourself each day not to do, because you loved him too much, and even trying just made you want to slap yourself because how could you ever think like that?

But also, how could you ever think like that? Forcing yourself to stay in this home, to remember the man you loved because you don’t know if he’ll ever come back, and because you couldn’t bear the thought of losing him in your heart.

Even though you had lost him, and you were alone.

Aside from the maids, Kaeya would sometimes come and spend the night in an old room of his, and you didn’t know if it was because he just chose to or he also thought of his brother often. You hoped it was the latter- so you weren’t alone in these self depreciating thoughts of yours.

He had even brought a vase, an ugly one which completely clashed with the colours, but what was inside that mattered. The vision. His vision. The one he threw at Eroch before coming home to you, then leaving it all behind.

So the Vase sat on its own pedestal by the stairs, just a few feet away from the door. If anyone were to walk in they’d notice it, maybe even comment on it, whether choosing to lie and compliment it or berate you on it.

But all that mattered is that you knew the truth about it. That’s all you cared about.

It was your last hope that maybe he’d return, yet why couldn’t you think in a way that he would return for you instead of his vision.

Eventually, your questions were answered.

It was a rainy, stormy night. You found yourself laying on the couch in front of the fireplace, book open and snuggled into your blankets. You tried to ignore the lingering touch of his arms, because it wasn’t perfect. You were starting to forget how he felt.

With the noise of thunder came a muffled sound of a knock. You assumed it was Kaeya- maybe coming to shelter from the storm after a mission and didn’t want to make the full trek back to the city.

And yet there you were, standing and staring wide-eyed into the fiery eyes of your past lover- or current? He was drenched, and his hair had grown just a bit longer from when you last saw him. It was messy and uneven.

His breath was shaky, and you didn’t know if you should let him in or just stare at him shocked.

“You’re back.” You breathed out, your voice a mix of all the emotions you could feel; Happiness, disbelief, and anger

“That I am.” His voice almost made you shudder- maybe it sent you some shivers though. It was so rough- it had been so long since you heard it, but it brought you a warm feeling in this cold air. “But I’m not the man you once knew.”

“Wh- what are you talking about? Don’t be so ridiculous…Diluc.” Even saying his name was foreign.

“I left a trail of blood in my wake,” he admitted, his voice raw. “After my father died, I abandoned everything I once held dear, including you, and I hunted down the people responsible. It was the Fatui… I hunted them down one by one. I didn’t stop. I became a weapon of vengeance. I became a monster…I killed without hesitation, showing absolutely no mercy. And when I had nothing left to destroy, I realized I lost myself just for vengeance, and in doing so, I lost everything, including you.”

He paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I needed to come back to you.”

You laughed in disbelief, but you too, just wanted him back. “How could you say this? It’s been four years. You- you think you can just come back into my life?! Do you even understand what you’re saying.”

Tears mixed in with the rain running down his face. “I know. I know I’m unworthy, undeserving of your life after everything. I just needed to try, even if you cannot forgive me, or if you don’t love me anymo-“

“Don’t.” You immediately cut him off. “Don’t you dare.”

“Then…would you fall in love with me again? Even if I am no longer the man you once knew, now that you know what I’ve done.”

Each word sent cracks to your heart if it hasn’t already dropped and shattered. The man you looked at was scarred, traumatized and hurt. Yet under it all, it was your man. The man who was so deeply in love with you, just like you were in love with him.

“If that’s true, then do me a favour.” You walked back, finally letting him come in and shelter from the rain.

You pointed to the vase, and he didn’t dare comment on what the hell it was and why it was in his home. “That vase. Get rid of it, take it far away- destroy it.”

He blinked, confused. “It’s just a vase?”

“No.” You shook your head, grabbing it and bringing it to him. “Kaeya brought it a while after you left. He told me there was something you left in here.”

His breath hitched, and taking a glimpse in from his angle, he could see his vision glowing. “My vision.” His voice trembled.

“It sat here forgotten and abandoned. Just like me.”

He looked away. “I-I can’t. I had to leave it behind. It just reminded me of everything I failed to protect.

”Only the love of my life knew that. So I guess it makes him you.”

Diluc froze, his eyes moving back to yours from the vase. Multiple emotions flickered through as he was in disbelief, but also felt hopez

“Me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hands were trembling, and his attempts to calm down were not working. “After everything I’ve told you, everything I’ve done, you still see me? You still love me?”

You smiled, finally letting the tears fall. “I will fall in love with you continuously. I don’t care how, where or when. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been or who you are, because you will always be mine. Do not tell me you have changed, because you will always be the love of my life.”

He couldn’t control himself before immediately wrapping his arms around you as you both uncontrollably sobbed in each others arms, the two of you falling to the ground. The way you held onto him was as if you were so scared he’d leave you again, and the way he held onto you was a reminder that he was still him.

He was yours, and you were his.

“I’ll fall in love with you everyday, Diluc.” You whispered, before your lips met his.

Inspired by “Would You Fall in Love With Me Again” from Epic: The Musical

[beomiracles]

You think you have seen long reblogs pffffft, well you have not seen mine *cracks knuckles*

*clears throat* so. Where to start… first of all, i have like a whole ahh list of all my favorite parts, so buckle up cause this is gonna be a long one. — NOT EVEN A FULL 300 WORDS IN AND I’M ALREADY HIGHLIGHTING STUFF; “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” i’m sorry but this sentence is just so powerful, i hardly have words to describe it with. Which is one thing i really really like about this fic, she keeps on choosing her heart every single time. She didn’t waver once, which in my opinion, gets annoying when the mc kinda strays back and forth, should i..should i not.. Yada yada. NO. this woman knew what she wanted from the get go and she was not afraid to show it. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly. “Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. Another great example of my previous words. 

Matter of fact, that whole scene got me choked up. “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.” I AM GAGGED, GRABBED BY THE THROAT. Idk, she just had such a beautiful way of seeing things throughout the entire fic, i will not ever get over it i fear. Not to mention this; 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.” i love how she literally peels back his layers and gets him to open up in such a comforting and safe way. 

“You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” oh yes i giggled at this btw hehehe 

Onto something very important, their letter exchanges. OH MY GODDDD. I’m sorry i’m very sappy and reading those letters was actually clawing at my fragile heart. The way you can feel the yearning within their words, i’m gonna spiral, it also gave me inspiration for a fic, COUGH moving on. 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. BUT I HEAR YOUR LAUGH IN THE WIND AND FEEL YOUR PRESENCE IN EVERY SHADOW OH SHAKESPEARE IS QUAKING IN HIS MFING GRAVE RIGHT NOW. it’s the way yeonjun describers her with such love and adoration i am literally so fucking weak i could cry a whole river. 

Their relationship just felt so raw, i can’t explain it, but it was like they both needed each other in the most pure and desperate form ever. Yeonjun losing his family and reader never having one at all, the way they’re just so drawn to each other without being able to refrain from keeping away. I am weak. — and let’s not even talk about how fucking fine archer yeonjun is because what the actual fuck, He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. BOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD YES GAWD, GIMME THAT GIMME THAT. 

The brief beomgyu cameo gave me literal life, i will claw at anything that is beomgyu for as long as i live. Imagine a little nerd with fat glasses whose special interest gets even slightly mentioned, that’s me when beomgyu, excitedly jumping up and down n kicking my feet as i giggle hysterically. 

"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. …. Gonna leave this here for you all to ponder. 

Oh rae. rae, rae, rae, rae… you knew this part was coming. kai kamal huening. What do you honestly wish of me? Because if it is to actively plot my soon-to-be self homicide attempt you have done it. — he’s so sweet, and just a baby, and he’s doing everything he can to take care of his family. 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."  BABY YOU’RE GONNA DIE DON’T MAKE PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. Sigh, but The sunshine x grumpy with him and yeonjun, kills myself… “I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” OH FOR HEAVENS SAKE THROW YOURSELF OFF A CLIFF. 

What hurt even more was that i KNEW that he was dying. Each fucking scene was like knifes to my chest. Imagine me on the street, wounded and slowly bleeding out, rain pours over me, covering me whole and making me shiver as i take my last dying breath. AND YOU RAE, you step on my outstretched hand. That’s what i felt when you killed him off. 

AND YOU JUST KEPT STABBING ME. as if brutally murdering me wasn't already enough. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” you know i almost stopped reading here… but then i was like, “nah lemme actually put my big girl pants on and get through this” only for you to drop THIS: “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.”

Hah. well. Fuck you then. 

But as my final point i want to highlight how much i love yeonjun and mcs relationship, their fucking passion for each other. As if the letters, the yearning and the longing wasn’t enough. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." YES BABY I’M THROWING UP AND CRYING BUT YES YE SYES YES. heh. 

BUT LOW AND BEHOLD GUYS. now she’s trying to bandage my bleeding wounds by ending it like this; “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.” (it worked, fuck you rae) 

In all the fic was so flowy and easy to read, it immersed you perfectly in the plot and stuck to an interesting and eventful storyline, nothing felt out of place or rushed, everything was just magnificent, even if it stung like a bitchhh. 

Giving this a 5/5 of goodreads, and um, this is two pages long on a doc. 

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

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

During a casual "Isobel is horribly underappreciated" chat, I was doing some fawning over just how impressive everything that Isobel does and quietly endures is (immediately after being pulled from the grave in a nightmare version of her own home! while everyone she ever knew and loved is either dead or an undead abomination, including, she fears, she herself!). I was reminded of the exchange with Jaheira if you find out the truth about Isobel's backstory, which ranks among my favourite little bits of writing and character moments in the game.

Player: I've been looking into Ketheric. I suspect Isobel might be his daughter. Jaheira: Do you. Well, let us not leave you in suspense, then. You are right. She is. Player: It's more than that. She was dead, and something brought her back. Jaheira: Something malign? Or some blessing of Selûne, perhaps? I do not know what restored Isobel's life to her. But I can see what she is doing with it. If she wished to see us drowned in darkness, Isobel needn't have lifted a finger. Instead, she holds out her hand. I choose to take it. I choose to trust. And not just because I have no other choice. When I find myself needing a reminder of just who Isobel Thorm is, I simply step outside and look up.

The dialogue flow features some more options:

Player: And you trust her? She's all that stands between us and the shadow curse. Jaheira: Exactly the point, wouldn't you say?

Player: You already knew. Why didn't you tell me? Jaheira: Because it isn't my tale to tell. And because, in truth, I do not know the half of it. Only this:

Which then converge into the part I adore that I quoted up top.

After this, there's a couple more responses with some gems:

Player: I'll need to speak to her myself. Jaheira: If it will help. Only remember: I bear more blame for the shadow curse than Isobel does. And she can no more control her parentage than you can that thing in your head. Player: I tried to talk to her about it. She won't tell me anything. Jaheira: Perhaps she chooses to do, rather than say.

And the closing options, with some nice on-brand Jaheira:

Player: All right, then. Trust it is. Jaheira: Then you're a stronger soul than I. I at least have had time to prepare that high-minded little speech.

Player: 'Trust'? You tried to kill me the first time we met. Jaheira: And now we are the best of friends. You see? The power of trust.

Player: Not good enough. Jaheira: Look around you. You shall have to learn to live with 'not good enough', I'm afraid.

Combining all of this with Isobel's sad little "Who would trust the next-of-kin of Ketheric Thorm?" a bit later on sure hurts!

But in conclusion, if anyone, including Isobel herself, starts piping up with some "sins of the father" type nonsense, Jaheira is putting a stop to that, and I love her for it.