#they are special to me and that is what matters most

[smutoperator]

Double Date

Ning Yizhuo (Ningning), Anatchaya Suputhipong (Natty) x Male Reader

Tags: ass-eating, best friends, big tits worship, (lots of) blowjob, clit-rubbing, cum on tits, date, dirty talk, facesitting, foreplay, full nelson, girlfriend, leg-shaking orgasms, pussy-to-pussy, riding, spanking, stacking, threesome, titfucking, unexpected cumshot

Word count: 6234

You had arranged a date at a restaurant with your girlfriend, Ningning. As you arrived, she surprised you by bringing her best friend along, much to your delight.

"Hi," Natty introduced herself as she sat at the table. What an incredible woman she is. The Thai bombshell stole your heart the moment you saw her, especially when she bent her body on the table and rested her huge tits on top of it.

Ningning had to bring you back to earth with a little pinch, as you had focused so hard on Natty you even forgot about your girlfriend. "She's so pretty, isn't she?" you asked Ningning, who ignored you as you gave Natty a greeting kiss on her cheek. You three ate and drank a lot in that restaurant, you enjoyed a double date with two of the most beautiful idols, both of them very sexy in different ways, Ningning as the porcelain Chinese cold beauty from the harsh Harbin winters, Natty as the beautiful Thai hottie like the weather of her home country.

You brought both of them to your apartment. While Natty sat in the living room, taking a little break, Ningning followed you to the same bed you had sex with her yesterday. You two kissed each other and talked a bit. "You made me feel a little jealous the way you looked at my friend," Ningning said, referring to your flirtations.

But Ningning was well aware of her best friend's hotness and was ready to take advantage of it. As the Chinese girl massaged your still-clothed cock with one hand, she picked up her phone with the other one, sending her best friend the signal the two had discussed with each other before you three arrived at the apartment.

Ningning kept kissing you and massaging your crotch while you run your hands over her face and ass, as you could feel another special night was about to come. But little did you know things were about to take an even spicier turn in a matter of seconds.

"That's so hot," Natty said, arriving at the room spotting both you and Ningning making out. The Thai hottie went straight to the point, unzipping her shirt and unveiling her massive tits in the process. "I saw you staring at them all night at the bar," she said.

"Are you ready for a special date, baby?" Ningning asks you as Natty climbs on top of your bed already completely naked. You're mesmerized by the Thai hottie, her wonderful body from top to bottom, from her thick legs to her big tits, as Ningning rubs them while she gives Natty some kisses.

"We're gonna have a good time tonight," Natty says as she looks at you with very naughty eyes. But Ningning isn't far behind. "We knew we had to fuck you together the moment I invited her for our date," Ningning tells you. "Tonight, you're going to give that big cock to us real fucking good," she continues. "Sure, you can count on it," you reply.

Ningning takes your shirt off while Natty touches your clothed cock for the first time. "Oh my God, look at this big fucking cock, it's been this hard for a long time I bet, ever since I arrived in that bar," she says.

"Holy shit, I can feel it throbbing for both of us," Ningning says as she touches it as well and takes your belt off next. "I want it so fucking bad," Natty follows suit as Ningning takes her clothes off to match her best friend's nudity.

You and Natty share kisses as Ningning spits on your pants and licks your clothed cock. "I can't wait to feel it in my pussy," she says. "Me too," Natty agrees. You quickly take a step further, reaching to massage her pussy while sucking her big tits already. "Oh fuck, that's so good," Natty moans as your tongue massages her nipple and sends her to the heavens.

"Yes, baby, bite that nipple, suck those big tits," Natty commands as you dive deeper and deeper against her massive milkers. Ningning watches you two have fun and wants a slice for herself, teaming up as both of you suck Natty's right both. "Oh yeah, share those tiddies," an excited Natty says, pushing both your head and Ningning's against it.

"Look at that body, Ningning is so lucky to have you," Natty says as she pays attention to your muscular frame. "She's just as lucky to have you as a best friend, your body is amazing too," you reply to her as you and Natty share more kisses while Ningning keeps her mouth glued to her friend's tits. "Baby, look at those fucking tits, they are so big," Ningning says as each of you has one of Natty's boobs in your mouths now.

"OHHHHHHHH FUCK" Natty moans as both you and Ningning worship her huge tits. She loves the feeling of your tongues running all over them and sucking them like two hungry babies as you and Ningning get more and more aggressive with the tonguing and then trade kisses with Natty.

"I want your tiddies in my face too," Natty tells Ningning. These two girls have worshipped each other's boobs countless times since becoming best friends and tonight it won't be different, as Natty quickly grabs Ningning's soft pair of boobs and puts it in her mouth. "This is how best friends do things, you worship my Nattys I worship your Ningnings" Natty says, calling their boobs by their names.

Natty is so hungry she sweeps across both of Ningning's boobs like a maniac, giving her best friend a little tap on her cute butt while you kiss your girlfriend. You reach from behind and touch Natty's pussy again. "OH FUCK, YOU'RE GONNA MAKE MY FUCKING CLIT THROB ALREADY," she suddenly screams right against Ningning's tits.

"Let me taste it," Ningning commands as you put your hand in her mouth and feed Natty's pussy juices to her. Natty ducks down and licks Ningning's midriff, before going back to suffocate herself on her tits. Both girls then take a quick turnaround and turn their attention to you.

"Take those pants off, we want to see that big cock," Natty and Ningning say almost at the same time. You follow their instructions as Natty quickly gets impressed. "Holy shit, it's even bigger without pants covering it," she says, a big smile coming out of her face.

Natty touches and admires your hard, throbbing shaft, but it's Ningning who makes the first move, ready to suck her boyfriend's big cock like always. "I can't wait for you to stretch our tight little pussies with it," she says as she licks your tip while Natty moves up and down your shaft.

"Oh my God, you suck it so good," you say to Ningning, always surprised by your girlfriend's amazing blowjob skills. Natty looks at you with her typical naughty eyes, ready to take her turn next as Ningning bobs her head on your cock without using her hands.

"You wanna taste it?" Ningning asks Natty as she lets her best friend suck her boyfriend's cock next. As soon as Natty dives her head on it, Ningning grabs it and pushes it aggressively against your crotch. "Choke on my boyfriend's dick, you big tit slut, take it, take it" she commands.

"How does her fucking throat feel?" Ningning asks you. "It feels amazing," you reply. "Hmmm, look how much good this big tit bitch is choking on this fucking cock," she replies, loving how sloppy Natty gets and how hard she gags every time she deepthroats your throbbing shaft.

"Spit on it," Ningning says to Natty, who follows. "Yes, let's make a big mess on that cock," Natty replies as Ningning takes her turn for another round of sucking it, going much faster than the first time. "Look how hot she is worshipping that big cock, the perfect slutty girlfriend," Natty says. "Oh yeah, I love stroking it hard with my hands and then shoving it down my throat," Ningning says.

Both girls keep taking turns sucking your cock for a few minutes as you love watching them bob their heads all over your shaft. "Yes, share that cock," you tell them. "Let's stroke it together, nice and slow," Ningning commands as both of you now grip their hands on your shaft.

"Don't you dare cum, don't you dare cum until I tell you to," Ningning commands as she strokes your cock even harder and can feel it throbbing further. Natty smiles as both girls spit on your cock, Natty then dives deep for your balls while Ningning deepthroats you. "I can feel there is a lot of milk for us on that big cock," Ningning says once she's done.

"Those balls fit so well in my mouth," Natty says as she engulfs them to the fullest. Both girls then lick your shaft from the side in perfect sync like the good whores they are, then kiss each other with their cock-tasting mouths. "Oh yeah, look at him fucking shake," Natty notices as their strokes get you closer and closer to cum.

"Let's make him beg for our pussies," Natty says as both girls keep stroking your cock. At this point, you can no longer contain yourself and blast a fountain of cum that hits Natty and Ningning's faces.

"Hmmm, bad boy, I told you not to cum early, how should we punish him, Natty? How about putting those big tits between that fucking cock?" Ningning asks. "Oh, good idea," Natty answers. "Let's punish that bad boy," Ningning says.

Natty opens your legs and lifts your body right at her big boobs. Ningning helps her, spitting right between her big tits, then grabbing both from the side and watching your cock go instantly hard as she squeezes Natty's milky melons between them. "Let's start nice and slow," Ningning says, moving her best friend's tits up and down your shaft.

"I love your boyfriend's big cock rubbing on my big tits, keep going," Natty tells Ningning as the Aespa girl gropes her bouncy boobs. "Look at those perfect tits bouncing up and down," Ningning says before grabbing your shaft and slapping it against Natty's boobs, which she loves.

"Yes, baby, let's fuck that monster cock with those big tits," Natty says as she takes the initiative, squeezing her boobs much harder than Ningning. You reach to grab some lube, handing it to Ningning as she helps Natty slide her tits between your cock easier. "Look at me going all the way down your boyfriend's cock with my big tits," Natty says to her.

Natty rubs your cock in her nipple while Ningning chimes in and licks your shaft and Natty's tits at the same time. "Spit all over it, nice and wet," Natty commands. "Put it between your tits again so I can lick it," Ningning says. as Natty follows, bouncing her tits up and down your shaft while Ningning sticks her tongue out and seizes every opportunity to lick the tip of it.

"I can feel it fucking throb," Ningning says as she takes your cock from Natty's tits and put it in her mouth. "Does it feel good?" Natty asks. "It feels amazing," you answer. More titfucking follows as Natty picks up the pace. "Fuck those tits, fuck those tits," Ningning tells you before Natty lets her deepthroat you while your cock is still between her tits.

"We are so thirsty to put that big fat cock in our pussies," Natty says. "So, who wants to go first?" Ningning asks. "I do, I'm going fucking first," Natty says, ready to take that big dick inside her for the first time. "Let me sit on that big cock," Natty commands as Ningning strokes it and slowly puts it in her best friend's pussy for a reverse cowgirl ride.

"Such a big dick, I envy you so much, Ningning," Natty tells her friend. "Let me jerk that cock while it slides in that needy cunt," Ningning says as she keeps gripping her hands on your shaft while that anaconda slowly disappears under Natty's pussy. "Oh yeah," the Thai girl moans as she gets fuller and fuller of your cock.

"He fucking loves your pussy, already pushing up," Ningning says as you thrust against Natty's fuckhole. "OH FUCKKK," the Thai girl moans. "Keep going, thrust that fucking cock deep inside her pussy," Ningning commands. "YES, JERK THAT FUCKING COCK DEEP IN ME," Natty screams alongside her.

Ningning looks deep into Natty's eyes, both of them sharing sexy stares as the Chinese girl fingers the clit of her best friend while Natty takes a huge pounding that makes her big boobs bounce nonstop. "I love watching your tits move like that while my boyfriend's cock fucks you," she tells Natty.

"Oh wow, it's so fucking deep," Natty says as she slowly creams herself all over that big dick, your balls smashing her clit while you stretch your arms to grope her big tits. "Take it, take it, take it," Ningning demands of her best friend.

"That's perfect, that's fucking perfect, DON'T FUCKING STOP, POUND MY FUCKING PUSSY," Natty begs as the clapping sounds of your hips clashing only grow louder. Ningning just watches as Natty gets turned into nothing but a cocksleeve and her friend's tits turn into pinballs. "MAKE ME FUCKING TAKE IT, MAKE ME FUCKING TAKE IT," Natty begs.

"Take every inch of it," Ningning demands as she grabs Natty's waist and pushes her further down your body. "OHHHHHH," Natty screams as her cunt gets drilled at a frantic speed and she starts bouncing like crazy on your dick until she finally cums. "OH GOD," she screams as she squirts all over your dick.

"I wanna taste it, I wanna taste it," a needy Ningning quickly comes and grabs your cock, diving to lick the juices of Natty's pussy, before rubbing your shaft all over Natty's entrance and shoving it back inside. "She wants more, baby, give it to her," Ningning says.

"Destroy that pussy, destroy that slutty pussy," Ningning says. You follow your girlfriend's commands, pounding Natty even harder while Ningning sucks her friend's bouncy tits and enjoys them hitting her porcelain face at full speed. "I NEED THAT COCK, I NEED IT, FUCK ME HARDER," Natty begs as she gets drilled. "USE MY PUSSY, TAKE IT DEEP, PUT IT RIGHT WHERE IT FUCKING BELONGS," she keeps screaming.

You grab Natty's long legs and place her under a full Nelson. "Oh my God," Natty says. Life can't be more perfect for you than now, as Ningning sits on your face and makes you worship her pussy while you plow her best friend's hole.

"Eat that fucking pussy," Ningning commands as she watches Natty get destroyed from a privileged spot. "Oh fuck, that's right in my G-spot," Natty says as Ningning now spreads her legs. "Look at this slut, shaking all over that big fat cock," Ningning notices as Natty's legs start trembling and you can't stop fucking her pussy.

"IT'S PERFECT, IT'S SO PERFECT, I LOVE THAT COCK SO MUCH" Natty announces as Ningning massages her big tits, then climbs up to spit on Natty's cunt and fingers her clit. Despite you locking her legs and using her like a fucktoy, Natty still manages to cling to Ningning's boobs and suck them, Ningning then kisses her and massages her tits further. "Oh yes, I agree, my boyfriend's big cock is perfect, even more, when it fucks that slutty Thai pussy" Ningning says.

"Rub my clit, I wanna cum," Natty tells Ningning. "Hmmm I know you love it, look how wet that pussy is, truly enjoying getting stretched out by my boyfriend's big fat cock" Ningning answers. "Look at those big tits bouncing, so beautiful," she continues, enjoying Natty getting pounded nonstop.

"Make her cum, make her cum," Ningning tells you. "I'm so close, I'm so close," Natty answers, her legs shaking more than ever. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," she screams as she's on the verge of cumming, just needs a couple of drillings and some clit massaging from Ningning to finally unleash it.

"Are you cumming?" Ningning asks Natty. "OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Natty says, it's all Ningning needs to know, as Natty cums all over your cock. "Rub that pussy with me," Ninging tells you as both of you finger Natty's clit until she's nothing but a trembling mess. "AHHHHHH," Natty screams as she gets drilled one last time, her cheeks getting clapped while her tits jiggle like crazy. "You look so hot getting fucked," Ningning says to her.

"Now it's my turn to ride that cock," Ningning says as she tastes Natty's pussy from your cock, before letting her best friend have it as Natty deepthroats your cock. Both girls spend a couple of minutes licking your shaft, making sure they get every single fluid in her mouth, before Ningning prepares to sit on your lap, but not before some teasing.

"Let's tease this tight little pussy," Natty says as both she and Ningning grab your shaft together and rub it against the chine girl's entrance. "Get it wet for me," Ningning tells Natty, who deepthroats you again to get it ready for Ningning's tight little pussy. "Now it can stretch me out," Ningning says.

Ningning slowly slides down your shaft. No matter how many times she takes it in her pussy, she always gets shocked at the sheer size of it. But she always takes it like a champion. "Look at me bouncing that tight pussy on that big dick," she tells Natty.

"How tight is she?" Natty asks you. "Incredibly tight," you answer as Ningning's walls squeeze your cock to the fullest, leaving no room for it to breathe, her pussy queefing at each bounce. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh," Ningning softly moans.

"I love this big fucking cock stretching me, OHHHHH FUCKKK," Ningning suddenly screams as you surprise her with thrusts up her pussy, your balls reaching as high as her winking asshole. "Just use that pussy," Natty tells you as she enjoys Ningning's cheeks getting clapped while sitting on your face for you to taste yourself in her pussy.

"YOU LIKE WATCHING ME TAKE THIS COCK?" Ningning asks Natty. "Yes, you look so good taking all that dick," the Thai girl answers. "Watch it, whore, watch my tight pussy grip it," Ningning says as Natty is now the one enjoying watching her friend getting pounded. Ningning suddenly fights your thrusts, bouncing on your cock perfectly as Natty enjoys you and your girlfriend's duel, all that while moaning softly as your tongue sweeps her pussy.

Natty bends just enough to make her tits bounce from the moves Ningning is making, landing them right on Ningning's back, before coming from behind and massaging Ningning's asshole. "This cock is too big for my tiny little pussy," Ningning claims. "But you're gonna take it like the good whore you are," Natty answers, spanking her friend's ass.

"Stretch me, stretch me," Ningning begs as you keep pounding her pussy, Natty takes your cock from Ningning's pussy to get it wet for another ride. "Put it back, put it back," Ningning begs as she can't go 10 seconds without your cock inside her. "You heard it, stretch her," Natty says, grabbing your shaft and stroking it while you fuck Ningning.

"Oh I love the way he fucks me," Ningning says. Natty gives her another naughty stare. "Tell me what you are, Ningning," Natty says. "I'm a dirty fucking slut who loves taking big fat cock in my pussy," the Aespa girl answers. "Take that whole fucking dick," Natty says to her. "YES, I'LL TAKE EVERY INCH OF IT," Ningning answers, screaming.

"You can't help but sit on this fucking cock all day, I know you already go to practice every day with that pussy filled with cum," Natty says to Ningning. "YES," Ningning says, who knows if answering her best friend or just screaming with your cock hitting her cervix.

"I love when you talk dirty like that, Natty, it's so fucking hot," Ningning says. "So you love being a whore?" Natty asks. "YES, YES, YES," Ningning enthusiastically answers, leaving no doubts this time.

"Fuck that whore," Natty tells you as she spanks Ningning's butt one more time and spits in her asshole. "That was hot, do it again," Ninging says and Natty follows, turning Ningning's butthole into a pond of spit while massaging your balls as you fuck Ningning.

"That dick is so perfect in your pussy," Natty tells Ningning as the Chinese girl bounces on it while you take a little break. "You're so good at riding cock," Natty says. "YES, BECAUSE I WANT TO CUM RIGHT NOW," Ningning screams, increasing her speed and tilting her body down as she smashes herself all over that cock.

"Cum all over that big fat cock, work on it," Natty says as Ningning gets closer. "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING," Ningning announces, and as soon as she does you go back to pound her. "FUCKING DESTROY THIS PUSSY, IT'S ALL YOURS, BABY, JUST FUCKING TAKE IT. HARDER. HARDER. HARDER, AHHHHHHH, KEEP GOING, RIGHT THERE" she begs as she cums all over your cock, while nasty Natty adds some extra stimulation by licking her butthole.

Just like Natty's, Ningning's short legs tremble as she reaches orgasm. "DON'T STOP, BABY," she moans as you keep drilling her pussy, Natty salivating as Ningning's juices slowly pour over your shaft and balls. "There you go," Natty says. "KEEP TALKING DIRTY LIKE THAT," Ningning tells Natty as she enjoys her friend getting plowed. "That's a good bitch, so needy for that big cock." you tell your girlfriend.

Ninging pulls out of your cock as Natty quickly jumps to taste her friend's juices. "That cock stretched that tight little pussy so good," she says as she bobs your head on your cock while you massage her big tits. "Choke on it, bitch," you tell her. Ningning soon joins as Natty dives into your balls that she loves so much. "Fuck, that's it, keep going" is all you can say as their mouths worship your cock.

"How do our pussies feel?" Ningning asks you. "Fucking amazing," you answer your girlfriend. Natty is ready for another ride, this time in cowgirl, as you grab her waist and tits while she sits on your dick, tilting sideways and spinning all over it. "Faster, bitch," you tell her, spanking her sexy ass. "YEAH, FUCK," she answers as Ningning just watches her best friend impale herself full of her boyfriend's cock.

"You like this shit?" you ask Natty. "YES, I LOVE IT," she answers. "Then bounce harder," you answer with another spank. "Smash that cock," Ningning says as she joins you in the ass-spanking, hitting Natty's wonderful, bouncy cheeks every time she reaches the bottom of your shaft.

"Such a dirty little slut taking this fucking cock," Ningning says. "Yes, I'm a dirty fucking whore," Natty agrees as Ningning grabs her big butt and makes it bounce on your dick. "Keep going baby, make her take every inch," you tell your girlfriend. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH," Natty moans. "I love watching that pussy being used, taking my boyfriend's big fucking cock like that, you want it harder?" Ningning then asks Natty.

"YES, I WANT IT HARDER," Natty begs as you push your cock up her pussy while Ningning spreads her ass. "Ohhh, baby, you heard it, she wants it fucking harder," Ningning says as you pump Natty like crazy, using her pussy like crazy while Ningning rubs her friend's asshole. "Yes, tease me," Natty begs as Ningning's long nails dig into her anus.

"You love the way we just play with you like that? Our sexy Thai fucktoy for me and my boyfriend to have fun with?" Ningning asks. "Yes, I love it," Natty answers, grinning her teeth as your cock reaches deep into her cervix. "YES, HIT IT, BABY, RIGHT WHERE IT BELONGS," Natty says as she feels it, while Ningning keeps entertaining herself with her friend's backside, now licking her asshole too.

"Use it, use it, use it, harder, harder, harder, take it, take it, take it, fuck her tight little pussy," Ningning continues to cheer on you as Natty rides your cock. "I'm gonna cum again," the Thai girl announces just as you spank her ass again. "Wanna fucking cum on it? Then show what a good whore you are and twerk on my boyfriend's dick," Ningning says.

"Let me fucking cum in that dick, please," Natty begs. "Not yet," Ningning says. "OHHHHH FUCKKK," Natty screams as the walls of her pussy start clenching. "I can feel that pussy smashing that big fat throbbing cock," Ningning says as she grabs your shaft, while you wrap your arms around Natty. "AHHHHH I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM," Natty screams as she squirts all over your muscular body.

Ningning is right there to clean your cock. You take advantage of her and start fucking her throat. "Yes baby, pound that pretty throat," Natty says as she turns around and watches her friend's face getting stuffed full of your cock until Ningning gags. She spits on it and puts it back in Natty's pussy, letting the Thai slut ride it one more time. "Damn, it looks so fucking good deep inside you, I have to admit," Ningning says.

"FUCK THIS BITCH, SHE DESERVES, SHE'S SUCH A NASTY SLUT," Ningning screams as she grabs Natty's ass, pushing you to pump harder and harder into her friend's cunt. Natty can only agree. "I'M A DIRTY FUCKING WHORE, I WANT MY PUSSY FUCKING USED, TAKE IT ALL, I'M NOTHING BUT YOUR COCKSLEEVE, AHHHHH" she screams.

Natty cums all over your cock and tastes yourself shortly after, rolling her eyes as Ningning watches. "That's the taste of a dirty fucking whore," Ningning says to her, before taking it herself too. Both girls get on their knees and choke on your cock, but Natty is by far the neediest. "How does her throat feel?" Ningning asks as Natty bobs her head on your dick. "Incredible," you answer your girlfriend.

Ningning takes advantage of Natty being so thirsty for your cock and shoves her head against your crotch. "Fuck this bitch, yeah!" she says as your cock stuff Natty's throat. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," you can hear Natty say as your cock muffles her mouth.

"Look at this pretty tongue, so horny for cock" Ningning says as you now push your cock in and out of Natty's mouth while her tongue is fully popped out. Soon, Ningning sticks her tongue out and gets your cock stuffed in her mouth as well.

"You wanna go back and forth? Use those fucking slutty throats?" Ningning asks you as you fuck her face too. But she has tasted that cock countless times already and decides to be a bit unselfish and let Natty get it wet. "Get it ready for me," Ningning says.

Ningning gets herself on all fours as you stick your cock back in her pussy. "Look at that big fat cock stretching that tight little pussy," Natty says as she kisses you and stays right there, spreading her friend's ass. "Ahhhh, just like that" Ningning moans as you hit deep in her pussy under Natty's eyes.

"Use my fucking pussy, please, baby," Ningning begs as Natty whispers dirty words in your ear. "Destroy that fucking whore, make her little cunt sore, make sure she can't walk tomorrow for practice," Natty says to you while massaging and hitting Ningning's ass. "OH YEAH, JUST LIKE THAT," the little Chinese girl screams.

"Such a good bitch," you say to Ningning, hitting her ass. "Yes, I love it when you call me a good bitch while I take this big fat cock" she replies. Natty rubs her asshole while you drill Ningning's pussy. "Are you feeling it getting tighter for your baby? It's begging to get used like a fleshlight," Ningning says as you increase the pace of pounding her pussy.

Natty wraps her arms around your sweaty body, enjoying kissing you while Ningning gets drilled like a fucktoy, your midriff hitting Natty's tits as you thrust up and down Ningning's pussy. "Natty, spank my ass, please," she begs, and Natty obliges.

"HOLY SHIT, YEAH," Ningning moans as Natty now places her naughty tongue in her asshole. "That's the spot, right there, right there," Ningning moans. "Cum for us bitch," you tell her. "Yes, I will if you keep talking like that," Ningning answers. "Beg for it, bitch," you reply. "Please, baby, let me cum, ah," Ningning says in a very soft voice before Natty's tongue in her anus interrupts it and makes her moan.

"Be a good bitch and cum," you tell her. "AHHHHHHH," Ningning's legs start to tremble shortly after you hit her ass. "Yes, baby, cum," Natty says to her, looking at you with sexy eyes as Ningning's legs shake. "Oh my God I can take this cock all night long, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow," Ningning says.

"We are all going to," Natty says as she spits on Ningning's ass and rubs my clit. "OH MY GOD, MY PUSSY IS SO FUCKING WET, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Ningning screams as the stimulation of your cock and Natty's hands is too much for her to handle. "Fuck me harder, I'm so fucking wet, please, can I cum?" she asks. "Yes, be a good bitch and cum right now," you say.

"AHHHHHH," Ningning screams as she covers the bedsheets with her juice. "Oh look at that creamy pussy," Natty says. "You better clean it tomorrow," you tell her as Ningning collapses and Natty instantly chokes on your dick.

Ningning masturbates watching you fuck Natty's face once again. "Look at this pussy so wet after that big fat cock stretched it out," she says. Now is Natty's turn to put herself on all fours and get stretched out. "Oh yeah," she says as your anaconda finds the depths of her cunt for the 100th time that night.

You give Natty a very fast-paced pounding, grabbing Natty's waist hard as Ningning spreads her legs to get her pussy eaten out by her best friend, her tits bouncing harder as you use Natty like crazy. "Make her cum," you tell Natty. "You like licking my pussy?" Ningning asks her. "YES, OH FUCK, IT'S SO DEEP, SO DEEP," Natty answers before you overwhelm her with your cock putting up the heat in her Thai pussy.

You feed your cock for Ningning to taste and put it back in Natty. "I'm gonna jerk that big fat cock into that tight little cunt," Ningning says as she lines up to the side of both of you. "OHHHH FUCK," Natty screams as your thrusts and Ningning make your cock throb and drive her to the edge. "Harder, harder, give her harder, show her how good of a slut she is" Nearly an hour into the sex session, Ningning continues to push your limits.

"I'm so close again," Natty says. "Oh my God she needs to cum all over that dick again, such a nasty bitch," Ningning says. "OHHHH I'M CUMMING," Natty announces as her legs shake again. "FUCK, DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, PLEASE," she begs as you continue to move your cock up and down her cunt. You grab Natty's waist and pound her like a madman, making her tits jiggle like jelly. "USE THAT FUCKING HOLE, I'M YOUR COCKSLEEVE WHORE," Natty screams as she cums.

Ningning shoves her ass in your face as a reward. "Good boy, fucked the slut just like I told you to," she says. Natty keeps moving her pussy up and down your cock despite your mad thrusts ceasing. "Let me jerk that cock in my pussy," she says as Ningning enjoys getting her ass eaten while Natty comes from below and sucks her tits.

Ningning then stacks herself on top of Natty, fingering herself as she enjoys her best friend going back to being treated like a fleshlight. "Tell me baby how much you enjoy those fuckholes right in front of you," Ningning says.

"Holy fuck, that cock is ripping my pussy apart," Natty says as you switch your cock to Ningning. "Yes, baby, switch between those fucking pussies," Natty says as she lets Ningning fully stacks on top of her. "Give her that fucking cock," Natty says. "Oh yeah, baby, make my pussy juice fall all over her fat ass, cover that dirty little slut" Ningning answers.

The back and forth between Natty and Ningning's pussies go on for a few more minutes, with you even going a little acrobatic and grabbing your girlfriend's body to eat her pussy while you fuck Natty's for a bit. "Oh yeah," Natty cheers as she watches you fuck her and tongue Ningning at the same time. "Fucking use those pussies," she says.

Ningning opens her legs for a round of missionary fucking. Natty warms your cock and leads it back into your girlfriend's pussy, enjoying your massive cock bulge under her best friend while she lubes your shaft. "This slut is so tiny yet she takes your big fat cock like a champion," Natty says.

"I want to feel it against every single wall in my tight little pussy," Ningning begs as Natty spreads her cunt wide open for your cock. "Go nice and slow, I wanna feel every inch," Ningning begs. "I love how you fuck her pussy, it's so beautiful," Natty says.

"You like how my pussy just swallows this dick down?" Ningning asks you as Natty plays with her pussy lips. Your answer comes with a thrust that almost splits her in half. "AHHHHHH, SQUEEZE THAT FUCKING COCK IN MY PUSSY" your girlfriend screams as Natty spits on her pussy. "Such a tight whore," Natty says.

"You're fucking the shit out of me, AHHHHH," Ningning says as Natty fingers her clit. "Take this dick in your tight pink pussy," you tell her. "Yes, tell me to take it, call me a dirty little slut," Ningning commands. "Take this dick, dirty little slut," you soon say. "Look how wet she is, she loves it when you talk dirty to her," Natty says. "Yes, I love it when you talk dirty to me like that, it makes me fucking cum so hard," Ningning answers.

"Use my tight little pussy baby until you fucking explode, get those balls ready to cum all over us," Ningning says to you as her walls squeeze your cock further. "TAKE MY FUCKING PUSSY, HARDER, DEEPER," she begs as Natty kisses her.

"AHHHHHH," Ningning screams as she cums, shaking her legs for one final time as you get on top of me. "There it goes, Natty says as she rubs her best friend's pussy and kisses her tits and then her face. "Natty, kiss me, kiss me," Ningning begs. But today, you won't cum inside your girlfriend's perfect pink pussy, you have already done it multiple times. You already have a different target. But so does Ningning

"Should we let him cum now?" Ningning asks. "Sure, I think he has worked hard enough," Natty says. She opens her legs to take her turn, smashing them against her big tits as you pound her pussy and make them bounce.

"Oh my God yeah you're gonna stroke that cock inside of me," Natty commands as she grabs her big tits and you push harder." That's perfect, that's perfect," she says as you look right in her eyes, and then spit on her mouth while Ningning savors her big tits. "Such a good slut," Ningning says.

"Fuck, you treat my pussy so well," Natty says as you drill her nonstop. "OH FUCKKKK, THAT'S YOUR PUSSY, THAT'S YOUR PUSSY" she says as Ningning rubs her clit. "Yes, you're damn right, I own that Thai pussy," you say.

"HARDER, HARDER, MAKE THOSE BIG TITS BOUNCE," Natty begs as your balls clap against her skin louder and louder. Ningning just watches still fingering her friend's pussy, before Natty finally says the magic words.

"You wanna cum in my fucking tits?" Natty asks. You are never going to say no to that, pulling out of Natty's pussy and fucking her tits super hard, ready to cum at any second.

You fill Natty's huge tits full of your milk. "Oh my God, look at this big fucking load," she says, in disbelief as she grabs her tits to lick your cum out of her left side boos. Ningning clears your cock and sucks the other boob of Natty, before cleaning it all and swapping your cum with her best friend. "Taste it, dirty whore," she says.

"Damn, that was intense, I think we need a shower," Natty says. You stay in bed and fall asleep while they wash the sex fluids from their bodies and talk to each other about your big fat cock. But soon, you wake up with your shaft crushed between a pair of tits and a naughty tongue on your tip.

"Don't fall asleep, baby, we can do this all night," Ningning says. "So, Natty, what do you want to do next?" she asks

"First he should fill our pussies, and if he's a good boy, we let them fuck our asses," she answers.

"Perfect, let's begin," Ningning says.

[scoupsakakitty]

A/N: Since it’s my Birthday today, I thought I’d surprise you guys with something small I wrote for you. I hope you like it! 🌹

A Rose for Every Regret | idol!S.coups x Reader | fluff

It had been a long day at work. Y/N stepped out of the elevator and dragged herself down the hallway, the weight of her bag feeling heavier than usual. Her birthday wasn’t supposed to feel like this. She had hoped for something… better. But birthdays didn’t seem special anymore, especially after the breakup with Seungcheol, or as everyone else knew him, S.Coups.

He was always too busy, too distracted, too caught up in his own world to notice the little things that mattered to her. So, when they ended things six months ago, she swore she wouldn’t let herself get pulled back into that kind of hurt.

Unlocking her apartment door, Y/N paused. Something felt… different.

She stepped inside, immediately greeted by a sight she couldn’t have expected in a thousand years. Roses. Dozens of roses in vases, arranged perfectly on every available surface in her small living room. The air was thick with their sweet, floral scent.

Her eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest.

“What the…” she whispered, dropping her bag to the floor.

There was no note, no explanation. But there didn’t need to be. She knew exactly who had done this.

Reaching for her phone, she typed a quick message, her fingers shaking slightly:

Y/N:

Cheol, what the hell? We’re not even together anymore. And how did you even get into my apartment?

It didn’t take long for his reply to come through.

S.Coups:

You never changed your door code.

Her jaw dropped.

Y/N:

Are you serious? That doesn’t give you the right to break in and do… whatever this is!

S.Coups:

I wanted to make your birthday special.

She stared at the message, feeling a complicated mix of emotions anger, confusion, and a small flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

Rolling her eyes, she tossed her phone onto the couch and tried to focus on cleaning up. But every time she looked at the roses, her chest tightened.————————————————————————————-Hours passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon. She had just settled down with a glass of wine, trying to ignore the flowers staring at her from every corner of the room, when the sound of her door opening made her freeze.

Her head snapped toward the entrance.

“Cheol?!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp.

He stepped inside casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He was dressed in his practice clothes sweatpants, a hoodie, and a baseball cap pulled low over his messy hair. In his hands were several gift bags and a small cake box.

“What are you doing here?!” she demanded, standing up so quickly she nearly knocked over her wine glass.

He smiled sheepishly. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

Her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at the sight of him. He looked tired, but his eyes held that same warmth she’d fallen in love with years ago.

She folded her arms, trying to steady herself. “You can’t just walk into my apartment like this! Seriously, Cheol, what’s wrong with you?”

He set the bags and cake down on the coffee table and straightened up. “I couldn’t stay away. Not today.”

She let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Oh, really? You had no problem staying away last year when we were still together. Remember? You were ‘too busy’ to even call me on my birthday.”

His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I’ve messed up a lot. That’s why I’m here. I needed to see you, to say I’m sorry.”

Her arms stayed crossed, her gaze hard. “And you thought breaking into my apartment was the best way to do that?”

“I didn’t break in,” he argued lightly, scratching the back of his neck. “You really should change your code, though.”

“Cheol!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! But I just… I needed to see you.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Why now? Why today?”

“Because I couldn’t let another birthday go by without making it right,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ve been such an idiot, Y/N. I know that. I was so caught up in work, in everything else, that I forgot what was most important. You.”

She looked away, his words hitting her harder than she wanted to admit. “Cheol, we’ve been over this. It’s too late. We’re not together anymore.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “And it’s my fault. But I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day, every night, I miss you. I miss us.”

Her heart ached, but she kept her face neutral. “That’s not fair, Cheol. You don’t get to just walk back in and say this now.”

“I know it’s not fair,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “But I’m begging you, Y/N. Give me one more chance. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll show you every day how much you mean to me.”

She met his gaze, her defenses crumbling just a little. “You didn’t even have time for me before. Why should I believe you now?”

“I’ll make time,” he promised, stepping even closer. “I’ll prove it to you. Starting now.”

He reached into one of the gift bags and pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box. “This is for you.”

Reluctantly, she took the box and opened it. Inside was a delicate bracelet with a tiny rose charm, simple but beautiful.

“It’s not much,” he said, watching her reaction. “But I wanted you to have something that reminded you of how much I love you.”

Her breath caught. “Cheol…”

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “And I know it’ll take time to fix things. But please, let me try. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Tears welled up in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. She hated how much she still loved him, how much she wanted to believe him.

“You really hurt me, Cheol,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“I know,” he said, stepping closer and gently taking her hand. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

For a long moment, she just looked at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt or insincerity. But all she saw was love raw, desperate, and unshakable.

Finally, she sighed, a small, watery smile breaking through. “You’re such a pain, you know that?”

His face lit up with hope. “Is that a yes?”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile grew. “It’s a maybe.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll take it.”

As his arms wrapped around her, she felt a warmth she hadn’t felt in months. Maybe he really had changed. Maybe this time, things would be different.

————————————————————————————-

And as they sat together, sharing cake and laughter, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight and the scent of roses, she realized that she was ready to try again.

After all, love was worth the risk. And with Cheol, it felt like coming home.

[biancadoes1]

Hi,

First off, thank you for posting my post. Organized Anon. I never thought people would care what I had to write, just had to get that off my chest and I love a good list lol. I guess, I have more so here is part 2. Lol

Today will be the Wild West west for Lukolas. I see people sending in post that are all over the place.

I myself am not a lukola -per se. I love Nic and Luke. I would love if they dated. But I like to remain neutral. I find it is the best for me. For me.

I am seeing posts saying Nic and Luke are beefing bc he did not post for her bday and she has not liked her post. My advice is to not engage with people who think Nic is dating Jake. It is a waste of time. You could have ET standing next to you saying aliens are real and they still will not believe you. It doesn’t matter about posts talking about the meaning of sweet one, they will not listen. The only thing to prove a jakola wrong is to let them use their brain. Trust me, if you ask question that requires thinking, in a respectful way, they will not know how to respond or what to do.

again, saying Nic is with JD bc she went to his premiere is childish. Saying she is mad with Luke and she has been showing JD off since Luke went to Rome is childish. Saying there is beef between them is childish. yes, I am even calling so called Lukolas on this site out who are agreeing with things.

there is nothing we can say to prove or show. But again, ask yourself those key questions.. if she is dating Jake and they have been out an about all this time, why not just post or tag that is who she was with in her photo. Nic has a brain and smart. We know they went to the WT movie together and we know they spend time together so why not post or tag him- and she might later do this- but why be public with JD on certain days and private with him on other days- makes no sense. No logical sense. People already think they date, so why hide him on the bday post. -Because his is most likely isnt dating him. This is just from rational thinking.

again, think rationally. Why would two adults- who play a beloved fan favorite of Polin be beefing and put in on SM for the world to think so. It’s bad for the product. Look at the Amazon show, culpa tuya. The leads are apparently beefing and yea people are talking but Polin is a different type of love story. Shonda would not let dirty laundry out so stop with the beefing theory. People sound like children. And these are grown adult women. Stop thinking that people are vindictive and want to manipulate others. Go seek therapy and figure out why toxicity is a driving force in your life. If Nic was beefing, why is Luke all over her end of year dump. His photo is on the back of her phone. At the least, they are besties.

now the million dollar question- why did he post for Claudia Bday and not Nic. There are only two possible reasons. A. JD is her man and he did not want to take away from JD on her special day. OR B. Luke is her man or her and Luke are getting close and decided to make it private - no attention. I believe the latter based on rational clues. Extra extra eyes were on them this year. Commenting on her SAG post was loud but not posting is louder. Personal stays private.

Could I be wrong yes- lol. But I’ll leave with this. If Nic is dating JD, you will have people saying she trolled the fandom. And if you are being honest, it can be seen that way. Posting and not posting jd. Jd trolling as well, saying things like people want me to marry Luke , doing that audiobook. It’s just too much. And she will get push back and fans will leave. I don’t care how nice people think JD is, he is not worth losing fans for. But let’s not think on this. We will cross that bridge, when or a big big big big if we need too. thanks!!!

.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i'd choose you and me...religiously

♡ a/n — for my new childhood friends to lovers series :)

♡ word count — 2.3k

♡ content — karasu tabito x fem! reader, fem! reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is very normal and quiet, goes through 3rd grade to the U-20 vs Blue Lock game, reader doesn't understand soccer, cuddling, kissing, some cussing

♡ synopsis — Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

Tabito Karasu had always been moved by ordinary things. The way rain left trails on windows, the sound of soccer cleats tapping against pavement, the smell of freshly cut grass on the field. Ordinary moments stayed with him long after they’d passed, as if they were somehow more precious than the extraordinary ones.

And then, there was you.

He noticed you before he ever talked to you, always quiet and off to the side, a book or sketchpad in your hands while the other kids played and shouted around you. You weren’t like the rest of them—you weren’t loud, flashy, or attention-seeking. To most, you might have seemed unremarkable.

But to Tabito, you were something special.

He just didn’t realize it until the day he saw you crying.

The afternoon sun was bright and unforgiving, casting sharp shadows on the concrete playground. Tabito was sitting on a bench, juggling a soccer ball between his feet, when he noticed the commotion.

A group of kids stood in a semi-circle around you, taunting you about being “too quiet” and “weird.” You didn’t say anything in return, but your teary eyes and the way you hugged your knees gave everything away.

Before he could think twice, Tabito was on his feet, marching over.

“Hey!” he barked, startling the group. He planted himself between you and them, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he glared them down. “Why don’t you piss off and leave her alone?”

The kids hesitated, their bravado faltering under his sharp gaze. Eventually, one muttered something under their breath before they all dispersed.

He turned back to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nodded but didn’t meet his eyes. “Thanks...”

He grinned, crouching beside you. “No problem. But you owe me big time. The teacher’s totally gonna yell at me for this one.”

Sure enough, he was called out for his language later, but he didn’t care. By then, the two of you had already cemented an unspoken bond.

From that day on, Tabito Karasu became your first—and only—friend.

By the time junior high rolled around, Tabito had become a name everyone knew. He was a rising soccer star, his talent and charisma drawing people to him like moths to a flame. But no matter how busy his life got, he always made time for you.

You, on the other hand, stayed much the same. You kept to yourself, stayed out of the spotlight, and quietly supported him from the sidelines. Every game he played, you were there, clapping and cheering along with the crowd—even if you didn’t fully understand the rules.

“You seriously don’t get it?” Tabito asked one evening, his breath visible in the crisp autumn air as the two of you walked home.

He had just finished explaining the mechanics of offside for the fifth time.

“I mean... I get that the ball should go in the net,” you said hesitantly. “But everything else is... kind of fuzzy.”

Tabito groaned dramatically, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s not that hard! Okay, think of it like chess—”

“Tabito, I don’t know how to play chess.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at you with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re kidding me. You’ve been watching my games for years, and you don’t even know what’s happening?”

“I know you’re good,” you offered, laughing. “That’s all that matters, right?”

He sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Hopeless. Absolutely hopeless.”

By high school, Tabito had become your anchor, and you had become his.

No matter how many people surrounded him or how many girls vied for his attention, he always found his way back to you. He walked you to your classes, saved you a spot at lunch, and invited you over to his house whenever your parents were working late.

One night, after a particularly heavy rainstorm, you ended up staying at his place again. His mom gave you a pillow and blanket for the floor in his room, but when you lay down, the hardwood felt unbearably cold.

“You seriously gonna sleep there?” Tabito asked from his bed, leaning over the edge to look at you.

“Where else would I sleep?”

He rolled his eyes. “Here. Come on.”

“Tabito, your mom said—”

“The floor’s freezing. Just get up here.”

You hesitated, but the warmth in his voice and the ease of his grin convinced you. Moments later, you were lying beside him, your head resting on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“This is too close,” you muttered, though you made no effort to move even though there was plenty of room on his bed.

“Shut up,” he replied, laughing softly.

After a long silence, you spoke again. “Someone asked me what my name was today. We’ve been going to school together since junior high, and they didn’t know my name.”

Tabito’s hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. “That’s their loss,” he murmured. “You’re unforgettable.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, your heart beating faster than it should have. “Tabito—”

Before you could ask what he meant, his lips were on yours.

When he pulled back, you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and steady.

“I don’t care what happened. I’d never forget your name.” He kissed you again. “Your face.” Another kiss. “Your goddamn voice.”

You stared at him, your cheeks burning, and he grinned. “You’re mine, okay? Have been for a while.”

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the window as Tabito’s mom opened the door. She froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the two of you curled up together in his bed.

“Tabito Karasu!”

Breakfast was... awkward. Over toast and eggs, you and Tabito sheepishly explained your newly minted relationship, only to be rewarded with an impromptu birds-and-the-bees talk.

Tabito groaned, hiding his face in his hands while you tried—and failed—not to laugh.

The letter came during your senior year.

You sat under a tree in the park, the letter in your lap as Tabito leaned back on his hands, staring up at the sky.

“This is it,” he said softly. “This is how I make it big.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m proud of you.”

His grin faltered when he looked at you. “You don’t look proud.”

“I am,” you insisted, forcing a smile. “I just... I’ll miss you.”

“Hey,” he said, reaching over to take your hand. “It’s not forever. Just until I make it. Then I’m coming back for you.”

You knew he would, because when Karasu set his mind on something, he would get to it, no matter what it took.

You just wished that he wouldn't have to leave for an uncertain amount of time, but you wouldn't say that. He was still yours, always would be, no matter how long you were apart.

When Tabito left for Blue Lock, he packed light—just the essentials. But tucked carefully at the bottom of his bag was something that wasn’t on any checklist: a collection of your letters.

Some were filled with words of encouragement, like the time you’d written after his first big loss, telling him that failure didn’t define him and that he’d always be a winner in your eyes. Others were playful, teasing him about his ego while reminding him to eat properly and not slack off during training. And then there were the ones you wrote late at night, when the ache of missing him felt too heavy to ignore. Those letters carried lipstick marks on the edges, small imprints of your love pressed onto the paper as if they could somehow close the distance between you.

He read those letters often. Whenever the loneliness crept in or the pressure of Blue Lock’s brutal competition threatened to overwhelm him, he would pull one out, smoothing the creases and letting your words fill the silence. Your voice, even through ink and paper, was his anchor.

One day, during a rare quiet moment in the dorms, Otoya noticed one of the letters poking out of Tabito’s duffel bag. Curiosity piqued, he reached over and grabbed one, holding it up with a mischievous grin. “What’s this?”

Tabito, who had been lounging on his bed, immediately sat up. His sharp glare shot across the room like a warning. “Put it down, Otoya.”

But Otoya, ever the instigator, was already opening it. “Aw, come on, don’t be so uptight—” His eyes scanned the first few lines before he froze, his smirk widening. “Oh-ho, what’s this? A girlfriend?”

Tabito was on his feet in an instant, snatching the letter back with a scowl. “None of your business.”

Otoya leaned back, hands raised in mock surrender, but his laughter rang out, echoing in the small dorm room. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Karasu. You’ve got that whole ‘too cool for relationships’ vibe going on, but here you are, all sentimental. Lipstick marks, too? Damn, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

Tabito stuffed the letter into his bag, his jaw tight. He didn’t bother responding to the teasing; it wasn’t worth his energy. Instead, he turned his back to Otoya, muttering under his breath, “Shut up.”

But as Otoya’s laughter died down, Tabito’s fingers brushed the edges of the letter. He could feel the faint ridges of your handwriting beneath the paper, the weight of your love in every stroke of the pen.

A small smile tugged at his lips, one he didn’t let Otoya see.

Because Otoya was wrong about one thing: you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger. No, it was deeper than that. You were his lifeline, his reminder of everything waiting for him back home.

The teasing didn’t matter. The competition didn’t matter. What mattered was the thought of you—always cheering him on, always believing in him.

One day, he promised himself. One day, he’d read those letters with you sitting beside him, not miles apart. And when that day came, he’d show you just how much your words, your love, had carried him through.

For now, though, he folded the letter and placed it carefully back in his bag, ready to fight his way to that future.

Watching the Blue Lock team play against the U-20 team almost put you into an early grave, you swear, Blue Lock won, of course. ( You totally weren't praying on some of the U-20 team's downfall during the game...not at all)

The crowd’s roar was deafening, a wave of cheers and chants reverberating through the stadium. You stood on the sidelines, heart pounding as the Blue Lock team celebrated their hard-fought victory on the field.

You had come all this way to watch him, to see for yourself just how much he’d grown. And yet, even after all these years of supporting him, nothing had prepared you for this moment.

Your eyes darted across the players, searching, until—suddenly—you felt arms wrap tightly around your waist. Your feet left the ground as you were spun around, a loud gasp escaping your lips.

“Tabito!” you exclaimed, laughter bubbling out of you.

When he finally set you back down, you turned to see his grinning face, his hair damp with sweat and a few stray blades of grass stuck to his jersey. He looked different—stronger, sharper, more determined—but when his eyes met yours, the warmth in them hadn’t changed one bit.

“You did it!” you said, reaching out to touch his face as if to make sure he was real. “You actually did it.”

“Of course I did,” he replied, his tone cocky, but his grin softened when his hand came up to cup yours. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as pride swelled in your chest. But before you could say anything else, the words you’d been holding back for years tumbled out:

“Tabito, I finally got it today!”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Got what?”

“Soccer!” you blurted, your voice trembling with excitement. “I mean, okay, maybe not all of it, but at the kickoff, I just... I got it! I understood why you love it so much. I felt it. When the game started, I was so excited I almost screamed! And when you got close to the goal, I was on the edge of my seat. I wanted you to score so badly.”

His eyes widened in surprise before his expression melted into something softer, something that made your heart ache in the best way. “You... really mean that?”

“Yes!” you said, gripping the front of his jersey like you’d never let him go. “I finally understood why you’ve worked so hard, why this means so much to you. It’s amazing, Tabito. You’re amazing.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t find the words. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he pulled you into another spin, your laughter echoing above the noise of the crowd.

When he set you down again, he didn’t hesitate—his lips found yours, and the world fell away.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re the one who’s amazing,” he whispered. “And you know what? That was the only goal I needed today—hearing you say that.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you wiped away a stray tear. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” you admitted, your voice barely audible over the roar of the stadium.

He glanced around, the chaos of victory still unfolding behind him, but all his focus was on you. “Hey,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. “Will you follow me? No matter where this takes me?”

You didn’t even have to think about it. “Anywhere. Always.”

His grin returned, wider than ever, and he kissed you again, as if sealing a promise. And as the stadium lights bathed you both in a golden glow, you knew you’d never stop cheering for him—on the field or off.

Karasu Tabito has always been moved by the ordinary things in life. Your love, your laugh, just you, so ordinary because you just...fit in his life so perfectly.

i take him to my pent house and i FREAK IT

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated

[aurumalatus]

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟕]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.5k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, mentions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. thank you all for waiting during my hiatus <3 turnfire is back, probably a bit sporadic for updates! still, i hope you'll join me in seeing the story through until the end! reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗦

In the week that you’re apart, Kinich dreams of you five times.

It’s a welcome respite from the constant nightmares he’d been experiencing. They’d grown more frequent since your injury, lying in wait in the dead of night. He’d found himself trapped by them, thrown to a hellish dreamscape that saw you meeting your end over and over again. It always ended with the sight of your body, bloody and broken.

And he was always too weak to save you.

But since the contract, Kinich finds new power thrumming through his veins. He’d thought he was strong before, but this is different. He wonders if this is how it must feel to hold a Vision, to be one of the Archon’s chosen. Being afforded a power like that means protection and stability, however steep the price may be. And sure, his body is a high price.

But when he remembers your screams of pain and the tears running rivers down your cheeks, he really can’t bring himself to regret this deal at all.

Still, Ajaw’s power brings its own share of consequences, like actually dealing with Ajaw. Truthfully, he’s reluctant to let the Dragonlord anywhere near you—he tends to run his mouth, and he doesn’t want him saying anything unnecessary in your presence. 

He isn’t a great companion, not like you—he gets on Kinich’s nerves, both intentionally and unintentionally. But there is something to be gained from a power as great as his, a power that even Kinich is forced to recognize.

The first dream is nothing special. There’s no rhyme or reason to it; he dreams of running through the meadow with you, flower petals bursting and floating through the air. His next dream is similar, though this time it’s in the forest, river rushing alongside you. He dreams of the late nights you spend talking, of the dinners you’ve shared over candlelight, of your whispers under the stars. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s you. 

It’s always, always you.

So, if sacrifice must be had, let it be his. 

Ajaw seems to realize it too, the weight of the bond they have forged. Ecstatic as he is to take Kinich’s body as his own, he knows that most people wouldn’t make such a deal so easily. He tries to question it a few times, wondering who this “special mortal” could be, wondering why Kinich would need his “awesome powers” to protect them. Kinich doesn’t care to answer—no one needs to know how he feels about you except you.

And, by the time he makes it back to your shared home, he’ll make sure that you know too.

He has the man in the ruins to thank for that oath. After he’d escaped the darkness, he’d made a small grave for the others who had embarked on that journey with him. He hadn’t had much onhand, but he tried—a small pile of stones, stacked precariously until they were about his height. Though he hadn’t known the other men well, he feels a sort of duty to their memory. After all, he had fought by their side, and no one deserves to die alone.

And now, he has the means to protect you, and to make sure that you never have to cry again.

On the seventh day, Kinich raises his head to the sky, one hand shielding his eyes as he gauges the position of the sun. If he starts the journey now, he could be by your side again by nightfall. Something flutters in his chest at the thought of seeing you, and part of him feels like he really can’t wait any longer.

“Ajaw,” he calls. The dragon is resting nearby, picking berries off of plants and scarfing them down. “We’re going home.”

He walks, and doesn’t wait to see if the dragon is following him. He’ll be able to tell based on the complaints that Ajaw is constantly spewing—he’d learned quickly how to phase them out of his mind.

“Your house?” Ajaw moans, still smeared with the juice of a Quenapa Berry. “What is it, a pathetic cave on the side of the mountain? Or maybe a cardboard box on the side of the road?”

Kinich rolls his eyes. “It’s a real house, and you’ll be lucky if I even let you inside. Now pick up the pace.”

The wind is good today, he notes, ideal for grappling. Ajaw scoffs, reluctantly following alongside his partner. 

“What are you in such a rush for anyway? Mortals get excited over the smallest things.”

Your smiling face flashes in Kinich’s mind. He sighs.

“Just feeling a bit homesick.”

/

“I’m home.”

Kinich’s voice floats languidly through your quiet house, comforting familiarity seeping into his bones. Something delicious is cooking—the smell of rich meat and spices wafts through the air.

On the table, there’s a loaf of fresh bread, a single slice spread with your favorite jam. Fresh fruit overflows from the basket on the counter, shiny skin promising ripeness. One of his old shirts is draped over the arm of the couch, sewing needle and thread strewn across the fabric. You’d kept busy while he was gone, evidently.

Somehow, simple as it is, the sight of your home at peace is almost overwhelming. After days spent in the dark humidity of the ruins, he suddenly feels like he can finally relax, if only for a moment. He lets the bag drop from his shoulder, falling to the floor with a dull thud.

There’s no response, but Kinich can see your shoes by the door and the faint sound of splashing water—most likely, you’re in the bath. Still, Ajaw fixes him with a look of disbelief. 

“Did you seriously make up an entire girl just to convince me you don’t live alone in the mountains? That’s pathetic, even for you.”

Kinich fights the urge to stomp the small dragon into the ground, opting to start organizing his things instead. Kneeling down, he unzips his bag, starting to pull out various trinkets and pouches of Mora.

“She is real, she’s just in the bath. Try not to be so annoying when she comes out, or I’ll punch you out.”

Ajaw turns red in irritation. “Just try it, servant! And you’ll see just what it means to be a Dragonlord—”

“Kinich? Is that you?”

He perks up immediately at the chime of your voice, excitement palpable in your words. There’s a scuffle behind the door—you’re rushing to change and greet him, he thinks, face warm. Even Ajaw seems to notice his change in demeanor, based on his mocking chuckle.

“Oh, how sweet. Your little girlfriend has been waiting for you.”

Kinich doesn’t even have time to retort, because the bathroom door flies open and you come bursting forth, wide grin splitting across your face. You clear the room in only a few steps—Kinich’s eyes widen at the sheer speed—and then you’re collapsing into his arms with all the force of a raging bull. 

He catches you anyway, heart nearly pounding out of his chest at the proximity, at the still-damp heat of your skin, at the way your arms wrap around him so tightly.

Spring blooms around him as he holds you closer.

“I missed you,” you admit quietly. Your breath is warm against his neck, but the feeling is pleasant all the same.

“I missed you too.”

After a moment, he holds you at arms-length, gauging the state of you. Your bandages are a clean, pristine white, and there’s less of them than when he left—your wound must have healed considerably.

Noticing his gaze, you smile, stretching your arms wide.

“I’m a lot better now,” you assure him. “We can start going on jobs together again soon!”

It’s a true relief to see you healthy and happy again. Though the guilt will likely never leave him, he wants to burden you as little as possible. 

“That’s good,” he replies, thumbing over your cheek. His breath hitches when you lean happily into his touch. “I’ll look for some good commissions next time I go to the outpost.”

Silently, he notes that the two of you will have to take some simpler ones first, at least while you’re still healing completely. And maybe for the time being, while he gets used to Ajaw’s power—he can’t risk hurting you again.

Someone clears their throat obnoxiously, and Kinich finally remembers that he hadn’t returned home alone.

Brows furrowed, you peek over Kinich’s shoulder to see the small, pixelated dragon floating there. He has an impatient expression on his face, like he can’t stand the lack of attention. 

“Kin,” you whisper, “I think something followed you home.”

“I am not something,” Ajaw roars, “I am the Almighty Dragonlord K’uhul Ajaw, the bearer of power that strikes fear into nations and gods, the pinnacle of strength and—”

“I found him in a cave,” Kinich interrupts dryly. “And now he won’t stop talking.”

Despite the bold introduction, you don’t seem intimidated by Ajaw at all—you’re peering over him curiously, poking at his tail and flicking at his feet. He growls in reply, already full of protest.

“It’s…floating,” you observe, in awe.

“It? You dare refer to the Almighty Dragonlord as an it? I oughta burn you to ash right here!”

Kinich shoves Ajaw aside, a sour expression on his face. Admittedly, he’s irritated at your reunion being interrupted.

“Try anything against her and see what happens.”

Ajaw grumbles some curses, but neither of you pay him any mind—you’re too overjoyed that Kinich is home, and Kinich is just happy to be in your presence.

“I made some stew for dinner,” you announce, practically skipping over to the stove. There’s a pot already boiling there—that must’ve been what he smelled earlier. “Your favorite. Ajaw—sorry, Almighty Dragonlord can eat too if he wants.”

When you bring it over to the table, beckoning him over, Ajaw huffs at his side. 

“If she’s inviting me to dine, maybe she isn’t so bad after all,” he comments haughtily, and Kinich resists the urge to roll his eyes. Leave it to Ajaw to change his opinion of you on a dime. Instead of arguing with the impossible dragon, he moves to clean up the rest of his things.

Ajaw pounces on the bread right away, tearing it to crumbs. It doesn’t seem to bother you, based on the way you calmly hum as you stir the stew. Really, it doesn’t seem like anything could ruin your mood at this point, and that thought makes Kinich smile in turn.

“If you’re planning on keeping him like a pet,” you say as you place three bowls of stew on the table, eyes flicking between him and Ajaw, “something tells me he won’t be able to learn many tricks.”

Luckily for you both, Ajaw is too busy scarfing down his food to hear. Kinich shakes his head, a half-smile on his lips.

“Not likely. We made a contract, actually.”

Your head tilts in curiosity as you take your seat. “Really? What kind?”

It’s not uncommon for Kinich to make deals—it’s what he’s good at, and he’s even better at following through. So it comes as no surprise to you that it would be the nature of his relationship with Ajaw. Still, you don’t expect him to continue:

“My body, for his power.”

A sharp gasp slips between your lips. 

When he turns to face you, your smile falters at the edges, a withering bloom.

“You…what?”

“It was a fair trade,” he explains calmly, checking his grappling hook. There’s a chip in the metal, he notes grimly, evidence of its overuse. “In exchange for my body after death, I get to—”

The clattering sound of your chair tipping to the floor has Kinich flinching, one hand outstretched instinctually toward you. When he looks up, your expression is like shattered glass—you’re clutching your stomach like someone’s just punched you.

“In exchange? For you?” Your words thin at the end, dying halfway up your throat. The sound makes Kinich’s heart twist. “Are you joking?”

It’s as though all the air has been sucked out of the room. Though he’d expected your surprise, he hadn’t expected the despair, the anger that burns in your irises.

“I promise you, it was fair,” Kinich reiterates. “As annoying as he is, Ajaw does have a lot of useful power.”

“But he’s taking your body,” you say. Each word comes out almost robotically. “That’s supposed to be fair?”

Hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. You shrink away, directly onto your fallen chair—you stumble and fall, a pained expression painting your features. Even as quick as he is to rush to your side, Kinich can’t help but curse himself internally.

Somehow, no matter what he does, he hurts you every time.

You recover quickly, climbing to your feet, and Ajaw merely watches, uncharacteristically silent. Kinich doesn’t really care what he thinks anyway—he’s far more focused on the glassy tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

“It’s only once I die,” he assures you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You flinch at the feeling, eyes wide. “For as long as I’m alive, I’ll be stronger.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need that thing’s power, Kin. Give it back, we’ll be fine.”

From his place at the table, Ajaw sneers. 

“How ungrateful! You have no idea how many humans would scramble and die for the chance to use a sliver of my—”

“Ajaw,” Kinich breathes, a warning, stare never leaving yours. “Get out.”

Ajaw huffs. “Do you even hear her? She’s being totally unreasonable—”

“Ajaw.” Kinich grits his teeth until it’s practically audible, tone laced with frost. “Get. Out.”

The tension is so razor-sharp that even the Almighty Dragonlord slinks out the door, though he grumbles as he goes. You don’t seem to care either way, instead scrubbing at the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

Silence falls, a blanket of ice over the warmth of your home.

He hates it. He hates the way it reminds him of his parents, of the countless fights that occurred here, and he hates the broken sheen in your eyes when you look at him. It’s a far cry from your previous brightness.

“Please, Kin,” you plead, a near-whisper, “please, please give his power back to him.”

You grasp at his arms, tracing the tattoos etched into the skin there, like you’re trying to remind yourself that he’s still here. Small cuts litter his skin, evidence of the journey he’d endured before returning to you, and your frown deepens.

“I can’t,” he replies. “The contract is done.”

His words sink deep into your mind, a stone in water, the weight of what he’s done slowly dawning on you. He can see it in your eyes—the fear that takes root. The fear that one day, he’ll no longer be by your side.

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, moving toward the couch. Kinich follows.

“You have to understand,” he starts, almost begging, even as you walk away, “I only wanted to be stronger for you. I don’t want you to get hurt again—”

When you whirl on him, your eyes are burning.

“So it’s because of me? Because I got hurt?”

And really, it was, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because of you, or any sort of perceived weakness of yours. If anything, Kinich thinks, it was his own that brought him this far—his own selfish desires for you.

“It’s not like that,” he murmurs, reaching for you. His heart pangs when you flinch away from his touch—you’ve never done that before in his life. “I’m stronger now. I can protect you now—”

“I never wanted you to protect me, Kinich!”

The pure volume of your voice seems to shake the walls of the house, and Kinich feels like it’s all crumbling down around him. He’s never seen you like this—nearly quivering with anger and disappointment, tears running endlessly down your cheeks. 

You can’t seem to decide where to look, but your gaze lands on his all the same. He almost wishes it didn’t—he can’t take the sorrow in your eyes.

“I’ve been learning on my own. I want to fight with you. I don’t want you to protect me, or hide me away, or sacrifice anything more for me. I just wanted to be with you!”

“We can still be together, it’s just—”

You gesture wildly outside, to where Ajaw is presumably waiting.

“Just that your life is tied to this…this thing now, and now not even your own body belongs to you. Do you realize how insane that is, Kin?”

And he wants to tell you that it’s not about Ajaw at all, it’s about you. It’s the fact that he’s always belonged to you, he wants to belong to you, and being strong is the only way he knows how to do that. He thinks of his mother, of the price of her smile—he would pay any price to see yours.

He wants to tell you that he’d thought of you every day he was away, perhaps every moment. He wants to tell you what he promised himself back in the ruins.

But he can’t seem to move an inch. He should say something, he knows. Comfort you in some way. All he can do is watch as you collapse onto the couch, old and fraying, stare fixed blankly to the wall.

And when he remembers the sight of your blood seeping through your shirt, he still can’t bring himself to regret this.

You hold your face in your hands. “We…we were happy, Kinich. Wasn’t that enough?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You don’t answer.

And, as always, Kinich drowns in the realization that he’d hurt you again. His father’s voice echoes in his mind.

It’s your fucking fault. This is all your fault.

The deal had been fair, at least to him, and he was rarely wrong in these things. He’d gained a power to protect you. With this newfound strength, you’d have no reason to worry again. 

So why did it feel like everything was falling apart?

He’s never been good at these things—at feelings, at vocalizing them—but all he’s ever wanted was to be what you needed. But someone like him isn’t worthy of your light.

He really, really wants to be.

Kinich slinks to your side, careful as he kneels before you. Your head is still hung, tears dripping into your lap. He tries not to let the sorrow on your face deter him, at least for now—you deserve to hear what he’s been thinking all along.

Even if it’s too little, too late, he has to tell you.

His fingertips brush against your knee first, apologetic. For now, you don’t push him away. He finds comfort in that, somehow. Even when everything the two of you have built until now lies on the precipice, the mere sensation of your warmth is enough to calm him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first,” he whispers, letting his hand drift toward yours.

You don’t reply, which makes Kinich think that you’re simply waiting to hear what he has to say. A deep breath fills his lungs, slow, the buildup of everything he’s longed to communicate all these years. 

Outside, the sun is falling to rest, leaving shards of fading golden light in its wake. Kinich watches its luminescence slip over your face, slow and winding. 

“I thought you were going to die back then. And it would’ve been all my fault.”

Even suggesting the possibility has something in his chest writhing and twisting, a chill settling in his bones. He’s lost too much until now, and he’s always told himself he could move past it. And yet, he doesn’t think he could ever stomach losing you.

“I couldn’t let that happen again,” he finishes quietly.

He can practically hear the gears turning in your head as you absorb his words. But your hand doesn’t leave his, and he holds steadfast to that feeling.

A sigh escapes your lips. 

“And I can’t let Ajaw have you, even after death. I told you I would always be by your side, Kin, and I wish you would trust me to do that on my own.”

His eyes widen, and he’s about to reply when—

A knock echoes at your front door.

You sniffle once, then twice, gathering yourself. Kinich moves to stop you—he’s sure it’s just Ajaw getting impatient during his timeout.

“It’s not Ajaw,” you assert, practically reading his mind. “It’s the couriers.”

The couriers? They don’t come here often—that fact hasn’t changed since his parents lived in his house. A seed of unease plants itself in his stomach. 

“They’ve been looking for you,” you sigh. Before you can take another step, his fingers wrap tight around your wrist, rooting you in place.

“Why? What do they want with me?”

The look in your eyes is far away, falling upon the lukewarm stew on the table. It was supposed to be a happy occasion, all of it. Instead, your lip quivers as you admit:

“The Wayob called for you. You’ve inherited an Ancient Name.”

And, despite all his efforts, Kinich feels the distance between you growing wider and wider.

[leonastarry]

{ 3 } My baby. ✧. ┊    s.jinwoo x fem!reader

☆ I like the way my baby hold my waist lovingly.

One thing you noticed when you started dating Jinwoo was that he seemed to really like hugging your waist. Anytime you two were near each other, he would wrap his arms around your waist and pull you close to him. Or when you two were out, he would wrap one arm around your waist possessively, declaring to everyone that you were his.

It's not that you feel uncomfortable or anything, on the contrary, you feel warm because of it. It shows that he is not afraid to show his love for you in front of everyone.

☆ I like the way my baby cherish me.

You are his precious treasure, the light that shines into his life. So he always tells himself to cherish you with all his heart.

Jinwoo is willing to give you the compliments that he thinks are the most beautiful. No matter what your appearance is, you are still the most beautiful person in his eyes. He is always grateful for your presence and appreciates everything you have done for him. And at times when you feel the saddest and most disappointed, he will always be there to remind you how wonderful you are in his eyes.

After all, for him, no presence is more precious than you.

☆ I like the way my baby pamper me even though I'm still a bit arrogant.

Not gonna lie, his pampering of you is so much that sometimes you act like a child.

Whatever you like, he will buy it for you. Whatever you want to eat, he will cook it for you. Wherever you want to go, he will take you and make sure you are always happy.

Sometimes you feel like he pampers you too much, you say you will become spoiled. He just smiles and kisses the corner of your eyes.

"I only have one girlfriend, why can't I spoil her?"

☆ I love the way you hold my hand, I love the way we face each other.

During some free time, you and he will sit and talk about what happened. Or just you talk, he will listen to everything. At that time, he will hold you and intertwine your fingers, holding tightly. If you are not too busy and eager to tell him what you find interesting, you will catch his gentle eyes looking at you attentively and passionately.

☆ I love the way my baby kiss me, and let me know that I'm very special.

Jinwoo loves kissing you. He thinks that even though it can't express all his feelings, it's a great way to show you how much he loves you. It could be a kiss on the cheek, the corner of the eye, the top of the head, or the forehead… Sometimes, he holds your hand and kisses your knuckles.

After each kiss, he will whisper sweet words into your ear. He always tries to show you how special you are to him and how his world wouldn't be complete without you.

He's not the type to open up easily, so if he says he loves you, he means it for the rest of his life. You are something he can't lose, something he needs to care about.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

After all, with all that you have been through, in the midst of a life full of dangers, you both understand that it is very difficult to find each other. Therefore, you both choose to cherish your lover in the way that you think is the most perfect. And perhaps, this love will never be broken no matter how much time passes.

......

Sitting on the soft grass and looking up at the starry sky, Jinwoo pulled you closer to him, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and whispered in a loving and sincere voice.

"I love you in every universe."

English is not my first language, so the story can be not so good 😅😅

[paperclip-skz]

Deep Talk

fem*Reader x Changbin

*WARNING*

WC: 2.4

Contains: oral (M receiving), over-clothes stimulation, fingering, teasing, deep throating, rough dom, I'm sure I missed something...this also has the potential to be a part 2....let me know

***

It was late on a Friday night, the clock striking 11:00 PM, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. Game night had finally arrived.

This ritual has been woven into the fabric of your life ever since you made the leap to Korea. Every Friday, without fail, you and your best friend, Changbin, would carve out a few hours to immerse yourselves in whatever new game had caught your eye that week. It didn’t matter if it was an online multiplayer battle, a quirky card game, or a strategic board game; what mattered was the thrill of discovery and the joy of competition. 

You both had established this sacred tradition, making it a point to reserve your Fridays solely for those moments of camaraderie and laughter. It was a time to unwind from the week, to leave behind the stress of work and the hustle of daily life, and just be yourselves—two friends lost in the universe of gaming.

Fridays had become special for you—not only did they promise the thrill of gaming, but they also meant that you’d get to spend time with Changbin, the person who never failed to bring a smile to your face. His playful banter, quick wit, and infectious laughter were a balm for your soul. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up and your heart race every time he flashed that charming smile of his. 

It certainly didn’t help that his physique caught your eye; his effortless charm made it hard to focus on anything other than the fun you shared. 

You found a game recently called “Deep Talk.” You thought it was a fun, easy get-to-know card game. Little did you know what lay in the cards.

This is how you play. You separate the cards into three separate piles: “Ice Breaker,” “Deep,” and “Deeper.” The Ice Breaker cards are simple, like asking what a person’s favorite color is. Meanwhile, the “Deep” questions are more sentimental, such as “What is your biggest fear?” But the “Deeper” questions tread on territory you never thought you and your best friend would explore.

Each player chooses a single card from one of the three decks they prefer. That player has to answer the question about the other player. If they get it wrong, they keep the card; if they get it right, they put it to the side. Whoever ends up with the most cards loses. Simple and easy. But compared to the competitiveness you and Changbin share… let’s just say the “Ice Breaker” questions were all set aside, and the “Deep” deck was starting to look slim. 

Earlier in the night, you took your chances with one of the “deeper” questions, and your cheeks blushed like a red tomato. 

You and Changbin shared a look like you wouldn’t take from the deck again, but the game was too fun to let a simple question stop you. 

Adrenaline rushes through you as you let your hand drift between the two remaining decks. Your eyes flash over to Changbin, who is practically sweating until you pick up a card, the back reading “deeper.” 

 “Does the player like to be dominated or dominate?” you read. It takes a moment for the words to register, but your imagination acts quickly. You can picture Changbin as both, its hard to choose either or. He has the gentleness to be taken care of, and edged till he whines. And he also has a part of him thats seems hidden from the world, a part of him that could take you into his room and claim you without a second thought. A part of him that could even make the devil blush. 

You think for a moment, both thoughts making your thighs rub together as you sit. “Dominate,” you say, and study his reaction. You place the card in the middle, letting him decide if you keep it or if it gets discarded. He looks at the card. Then at you. He holds your gaze as he takes his hand and slides the card off to the side with the rest of the discarded cards. 

A chill darker than sin runs does your spine. You take a long sip of the drink beside you, but the ice water does little to diminish the heat bubbling inside you. 

Changbin leans over, grabbing a card. He smirks as you watch his eyes scan the card. “What is the other player’s favorite position?”

After that last question, heat bubbles inside you. An urge to claim. His eyes match your darkness, and they trail down your body. Finally, you make a move to crawl over to him. "Well? What's your answer?" you whisper, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands immediately go to your waist, grabbing hold of you.

He bites his lip, and you can just tell his mind is racing. You lean in to brush your lips against the shell of his ear. "What's my favorite position?” you whisper, and he visibly shakes. His grip becomes impossibly tighter, and you can feel his growing arousal pushing against you. 

His bulge alone makes your head spin. “Y/N,” he says in a shaky breath. 

“What?” you whisper back, “do you want to stop?”

You can feel his hand snake up your spine, all the way up to the nape of your neck. Suddenly, he grips it tight and yanks it back hard enough for you to let out a little yelp, far enough to stare straight into his eyes. His eyes have now turned black and hungry. You could see that depraved primal sense you imagined earlier, but seeing it makes your insides rattle. 

His eyes dart to your lips, and instinctively, he licks his own. “You can ride my fingers, but that's all you get today," he says in a hushed voice. The sudden change feels like whiplash to your ears. 

The wine that leaves your lips doesn’t go unnoticed, and goosebumps appear when you see his wicked smirk. “Aw, did my pretty baby want more of me?” he cups your cheek caressing his thump just below your eye. The fact that he said my didn’t go unnoticed either. Your thighs automatically clenched at that word. The thought of being utterly and completely his. 

“Open up, get my fingers wet for me baby.” he commands your mouth open and you oblige all too willingly. He slips two fingers past your lips, and your eyes roll to the back of your head at the immediate saltiness of his taste. Your tongue swirls around his digits, which sends a low moan to vibrate off his chest. 

You suck without thought. Hollowing your cheeks like you would his cock, and letting your tongue twirl around him.. 

His eyes memorize every detail of your features until he pulls his fingers away from your mouth with a subtle ‘pop.’ 

Then, without a word, keeping intense eye contact, he unbuttons your jeans with his other hand and slides his wet fingers past your pants, past your panties, and slips them to play with your slit. 

He plays and plays, swirling your sensitive bud around, gathering more wetness than necessary, watching your squirm, and watching your face contort is tortured pleasure until finally, he slips his pointer and middle finger past your folds, curling them upward to watch your whole body go frigid. 

Your hands grip his broad shoulders, and you hold on for dear life with a loud cry. “Binnie,”you cry as he starts a slow beckoning rhythm inside your gummy walls. 

“Does it feel good?” he says, kissing your neck in the process. 

“Yes,” You reply, hushed and quiet. 

“Not good enough.” he picks up his pace, rubbing your gummy walls against his fingers and making your whole body shake along with them. The pleasure becomes intense, the sudden pace making the tightness in your belly so prominent so quickly it's hard to register your orgasm approaching. 

“Binnie, I’m gonna,” you try to explain, but words get stuck in your throat. His palm keeps rubbing against your clit, and his fingers keep a relentless pace. 

“You gonna cum for me, princess? You gonna cum all over my fingers?” he says into your ear, it makes you moan loudly and shuts your eyes painfully, enough for tears to form at the corner of your eyes. 

Yet, that same intense pleasure that built so rapidly can just as quickly be whisked away, leaving a lingering ache in its absence. He removes his entire hand from your pussy; ripping an ungodly cry from you.

Before you realize it, he’s gently wiping away the tears that have traced delicate paths down your cheeks. “Aw, don’t cry, beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone. “You know, there's something enchanting about you when those tears fall,” he smirks, his eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and admiration.

He maintains a calm silence, and you are locked in a gaze that brings the world around you to a complete standstill. You can feel the heat brewing between you, and your lips part slightly as you imagine the way his kiss would feel against yours. Would he be rough and demanding, or would his kiss whisper sweet tales of tenderness?

The thought sends a thrill of desire coursing through you, and he’s so close—just a few tantalizing inches separating your worlds. You lean in, heart racing, as he mirrors your movements, drawing closer with an intoxicating mix of curiosity and anticipation. When your lips finally meet, time seems to suspend; you both linger in the exquisite softness, savoring the electric connection. 

As the kiss deepens, you begin to move together in a secret dance, a rhythm that intensifies with every breath. He brings his hand back to the nape of your neck, pushing his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss. It only makes your head spin with desire.

Almost like your mind has lost all control, your hips move automatically, grinding against his lap. Searching for that fullness you crave. 

Changbin pulls back snickering at your weak attempt at pleasuring yourself, “tsk tsk, so impatient” you let out a small whine, your forehead falling against his. 

“Please” 

“Fuck” he grunts. He doesn’t want to ruin anything. He knows if he crosses this line he won’t ever be coming back, and now that he’s tasted you, forget it. He’s had a crush on you since the beginning. He’s wanted to kiss you, to take care of you, to claim you as no one else’s but his for years, but he always stopped himself, waiting for the right time. Now that he has it, he doesn’t want to ruin it. He should wait, and do this properly after a proper date, after he hears you say “yes” to being his girlfriend. But call him weak, because the second you started grinding against him he lost all his willpower to stay at bay. 

With much too little time and way too many motions, you help him shimmy his sweatpants and boxer down the length of his thighs and you shimmy out of your jeans completely leaving you in only your panties. 

You see his member spring to life. He wasn't long, but he made up for it in thick and girth, making your mouth drool,l and the sheer stretch it will take to take his full length. 

His stip screamed an angry red and it spilled with precum, “I need you baby come here” his veins were prominent and his muscles were flexed and bulging. 

You bite your lip, sinful thoughts darkening your mind. “What are you thinking pretty girl?” he says with a curious tone. You're thinking what his precum would taste like on your greedy tongue. 

Your eyes dart from him to his twitching cock, and suddenly your dipping your head down and letting your tongue follow a big stripe from his base all the way up to his tip. 

You hear a ragged hiss from him and one of his hands goes to tangle into your hair. He doesn’t grip it like he wants to, so he just rests it there, allowing you to set the pace. You swallow him whole, wrapping your lips tightly around him and hollowing your cheeks. His cock throbs heavily on your tongue, the intoxicating rich flavor of his pre-cum making your eyes go cross-eyed. 

You bob your head setting a slow steady pace, relishing in his taste. “Fuck” is all he manages to say as you sucked, lapped, and stoked poke of a single-minded determination to get him off. 

Pleasure built at the base of his spine climbing from the tip of his toes to the front of his brain. You learned this thing a while back, you found out that guys really liked it when you flattened your tongue at the base of his cock when you went down on them. So that what you did, you flattened your tongue as your head bobbed, and you could feel Changbins ball tighten. He was going to cum. Hard. 

He tried to make any sort of sound to warn you, he pulled on your hair as a sign and tapped your shoulder, but you already knew was going to cum just be the constant twitching of his cock against your lips. 

You wouldn’t let up, you were determined to feel his cum spill down the back of your throat. His his rutted up against you, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag in the process as cum dumped down your throat. 

You made sure to get every last drop sucking him dry and letting off his tip with a very loud and wet “pop.”

You look back up to Changbin, and by god, if there wasn't a river gathering in your panties there sure was now. He was the definition of beautiful. He was panting, out of breath, his forehead shone with a sheer coat of sweat and his arms were flexing out of control with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He looks down at you, meeting your gaze. “Fuck, get up here.” he pulls you by the nape of your neck and settles you to straddle his lap again. 

He kisses you with a newfound passion, forgetting boundaries and what he should do. He needs you, and he needs you now. 

He could taste the reminisce of his arousal on your lips and it only drives his tongue deeper past your lips. 

Hurriedly he moves your panties to the side and rubs your slit, “fucking hell, your so wet for me” He pulls back to say. 

Embarrassment floods your cheeks and you hide in the crook of his neck.  "Uh uh, no, keep your eyes on me when I fuck you."

[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

[luvismenu]

stream #02 — boxing ✒️

pause or play ,, JJK — series m.list

warnings: just streaming yk, boxer jk, some tension, some confusion, jk being a baby loll

wc: 3.17k

you reached jungkook’s new gym, taking in the expensive space and sleek, high-end equipment. it’s bigger, more polished, and clearly more expensive than his last one. but it doesn’t surprise you. jungkook has a taste for the finer things. he’s humble when he needs to be, sure, but he wouldn’t deny it if someone called him rich.

you’ve known him for what feels like a lifetime. you were seven when his family moved into the house next door, and he was just three. your families clicked immediately, and soon enough, the two of you were practically inseparable. almost like family, people would say.

jungkook was always the adventurous one, the chaotic to your calm. you were there for him as he grew up, through every scraped knee and every wild idea. somehow, the two of you became the closest of friends. but no matter how close you were, jungkook never wanted to be seen as your little brother.

even when people around you assumed it—his parents included—he refused to let the title stick.

you still remember the first time it really hit you. you were 14, and he was 10. you’d casually called him your little brother, and he was furious. “don’t call me that!” he’d snapped, arms crossed and a pout on his face. you didn’t think much of it at the time, figuring he’d grow out of it. but he didn’t.

even now, he hates it. he doesn’t want you to see him as a younger sibling, and honestly, you don’t mind. you’ve always treated him like your equal; your best friend. that’s all that ever mattered to you.

there are times when he makes it hard not to think of him as the annoying little brother. but, nonetheless, you love him.

and eventually, the two of you grew up and started carving out your own paths. you found your place in tech, and he found his in streaming. but through it all, you never stopped believing in him. you always knew he had something special, a spark that could light up any room.

and now, here he is, one of the most successful streamers out there. watching him grow into who he is today fills you with pride. a quiet, steady pride that you don’t think will ever fade.

you’re proud of him. you always have been, and you always will be.

“jji! right here!” jungkook’s voice cuts through your thoughts. you spot him, waving at you. he’s in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, his hands wrapped with bandage tape, his hair messily falling into his eyes.

you walk over, shaking your head at the sight of him.

“did you start the stream yet?” you ask, instinctively reaching out to fix his hair. he bends slightly, letting you smooth it down.

“no, not yet,” he says, gesturing towards the cameras and equipment nearby. “i was waiting for you.”

“waiting for me?” you raise a brow, smoothing the last strand and pulling your hand back.

“of course,” he says with a sly grin. “need to prove to you that i’m a man, remember?” his eyes lock onto yours, and you pause for a moment, caught off guard.

“you’re still on that?” you tilt your head, frowning slightly but with a soft smile. “i thought you weren’t serious.”

“oh, i’m dead serious, jji,” he says, flexing his fingers as he adjusts the tape on his hands. “today, i’m gonna show you what i really am.” his confidence is almost infectious, but you just shake your head, amused.

he's so cute.

“right, sure,” you mumble, turning toward the equipment to set up the camera.

this isn’t new to you. every time jungkook streams outside his usual setup, you’re somehow involved. you don’t mind, though. in fact, you’ve grown to enjoy it. jungkook has this way of making everything feel natural and comfortable, even when you’re in front of a camera.

“oh, by the way,” jungkook pipes up, motioning towards a man walking in. “this is sangwon hyung, my trainer.”

the man gives a polite bow as he approaches, and you return it with a small one of your own. “nice to meet you,” you say, smiling and he gives you a quick nod before moving toward a desk stacked with boxing gear.

jungkook steps behind you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “isn’t he cool?”

you scoff, a quiet laugh escaping you. “sure, he seems cool.”

“he’s also funny,” jungkook adds, nodding towards sangwon, who’s busy sorting equipment.

you glance back at him with a teasing grin. “are you in love with your personal trainer?”

jungkook rolls his eyes, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. “it's called admiration,” he shakes his head as if he's teaching you something very obvious, but there’s a small smile tugging at his lips as he walks to his trainer.

jungkook adjusts the camera and starts his stream, his usual confident grin lighting up his face.

“what’s good, chat?” he greets, his voice full of energy and the chat goes wilddd

@/kookiebaby: WE MISSED YOU !!!!

@/jkenthusiast: OH MY GOD IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS STREAM FOR AGES

@/darlingxo: YOU LOOK SO HOT

@/jaykaysslut: SHOW US THOSE ABS DADDY 🥵

“yes, yes, i know you guys have been waiting for the boxing stream ever since i dropped those pics of me with the gloves. and well, here we are!”

he gestures toward his trainer. “this is sangwon hyung, my trainer. say hi, hyung.” sangwon waves shyly, smiling before he starts prepping the equipment.

jungkook’s eyes flicker to his monitor, catching a comment in the chat.

“oh, you guys want text-to-speech on?” he asks, glancing at you for confirmation.

you’re already a step ahead, nodding as you enable the setting with ease. “done,” you say, giving him a quick look.

“thanks, jji,” he replies with a grin before turning back to his chat.

almost immediately, the donations start pouring in, the robotic voice reading out the messages.

text-to-speech:

“hey jungkook, i missed you!”

“how was your break?”

“finally, boxing stream time!”

jungkook chuckles as he responds while wrapping his hands. “missed you too! break was good, but i’m ready to be back now. thanks for waiting.”

his trainer joins him, checking the gloves and pads as more messages roll in.

then a donation catches your attention: “is ___ with you?”

you’re not surprised. his chat is used to you showing up during his streams. you smile softly, glancing at jungkook, waiting for his response.

“yes, ___ is here too,” jungkook says casually, then turns to you with that boyish grin. “come on, jji, say hi to chat.”

with a small sigh but a smile nonetheless, you walk in front of the camera, giving a little wave. “hey, chat. been a while,” you say warmly, and the chat immediately explodes with excitement.

text-to-speech:

“__, we missed you!”

“looking good as always”

“i missed my favorite couple”

“mommy and daddy are back”

you can’t help but laugh quietly. it’s not the first time chat has assumed you and jungkook are a thing, and at this point, it doesn’t even faze you. jungkook, on the other hand, just smirks as he slips on his gloves.

jungkook starts with some warmup exercises, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders before shifting into jumping jacks. his movements are fluid, showcasing the effort he’s been putting into training.

after a few minutes, when everything is settled.

jungkook steps into the training zone, fists wrapped tightly, as his trainer holds up two padded gloves for him to strike. he begins his routine, throwing punches with precision and focus.

it’s impressive to watch, when jungkook gets into something, he doesn’t just dabble. he trains so hard that whatever he does ends up looking flawless.

the chat explodes with excitement, emotes filling the screen as viewers cheer him on. you glance between jungkook and the chat, managing donations and comments as they flood in. as his head moderator, it’s part of the job, but you don’t see it that way. for you, this is just another way to be there for him— supporting him like you always have, as his best friend.

after a few rounds, jungkook takes a break, sitting down in front of the camera. his breath is heavy, his hair a tousled mess, and sweat clings to his skin.

you lean closer, reaching out instinctively. with one hand, you smooth his hair back into place; with the other, you use the edge of your sweater sleeve to gently wipe the sweat from his forehead. he closes his eyes, leaning into your touch, his breathing gradually evening out.

the text-to-speech voice cuts through the moment:

“that was so intense! please take care of yourself.”

jungkook’s lips curl into a smile as he opens his eyes, catching your wrist in his hand. you blink, slightly startled, as he intertwines his fingers with yours. the chat goes crazy, even though all they can see is your hand.

“thank you,” he says, turning his attention back to the camera. “i am glad i have ___ to take care of me.”

he glances up at you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a teasing smirk as he adds a wink.

you roll your eyes, an amused look on your face. mouthing, “shut up,” you try to pull your hand away, but he just chuckles softly.

he lets go after a moment, standing up and stretching as he gets ready for the next round, leaving you to shake your head at his antics, a small smile tugging at your lips.

after what feels like two hours of intense training, breaks, and chatting with his viewers, jungkook is visibly exhausted. his movements are slower now, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, and his breathing is heavier than before. you can tell he’s pushed himself to his limit for this stream.

the chat, however, is still buzzing with excitement, donations pouring in faster than ever. jungkook glances at the screen, his tired eyes attempting to scan the messages, but it’s clear he doesn’t have the energy to keep up.

“jji,” he mutters softly, leaning back against the chair he's on, his voice hoarse. “can you handle it?”

you nod, stepping in without hesitation. pulling up a chair beside him, you start reading the... more wholesome donations and messages out loud.

“‘jungkook, you’re amazing! take care of yourself, please!’” you read with a small laugh, glancing at him.

he gives a tired smile, wiping the sweat from his face with a towel. “thank you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

you continue, “‘jungkook, that was so cool! but seriously, drink more water’” you say and immediately hold up his water bottle to him.

he chuckles weakly, taking the bottle and sipping from it.

the chat seems to notice you’ve taken over, with messages like, “thank you, ___, for taking care of our kookie!” and “we stan mommy ___,!”

“okay, guys, i think it’s time to end the stream,” you say, looking directly at the camera with a small smile as jungkook sits slouched on the chair beside you, clearly drained but still listening.

the chat explodes with protests.

“nooo, don’t go!”

“one more round daddy please”

“aw, take care !”

“love you jungkookie! thank you”

“thank you, ___ !”

“our favorite couple frfr.”

“waiting for the next stream already”

you smile, muting the text-to-speech for a moment. “alright, send your final messages and love to jungkook before we sign off.”

jungkook leans forward, waving weakly at the camera. “thanks for watching, guys. you’re amazing, as always.”

you add, “take care, everyone. we’ll see you soon!”

with that, you end the stream, the room falling into a quiet hum. you turn to jungkook, who’s still sitting on the chair, looking utterly spent.

“ready to go home?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“carry me?” he jokes, flashing a tired smile.

you always carried him when he was a kid, whether it was because he’d fallen asleep during movie nights or he’d hurt himself. back then he was smaller than you.

but now… you glance at him, leaning back into the chair again, his broad shoulders and muscular frame taking up way more space than they used to. he looks.. big.

still, if he wasn’t so big and heavy now, you’d probably still carry him, just like old times. but even thinking about trying to lift him now makes your back ache.

you laugh, shaking your head. “let’s go.”

his house, as always, has that comforting vibe—nothing too flashy but enough to show his style. it’s a place that’s just... him.

you and jungkook head straight into the kitchen. despite how exhausted he seemed earlier, he’s already bouncing back. aside from the faint sheen of sweat on his skin, he looks completely normal, his usual energetic self.

you grab a bottle of juice from the refrigerator and walk over to the kitchen counter. before you can even start pouring, he’s right behind you, reaching for the bottle.

“i can do it,” he says, his hand brushing yours as he tries to take it.

you pull the bottle away with a small smile. “i know you can,” you reply, already unscrewing the cap and pouring the juice into two glasses.

he scoffs softly, shaking his head as he leans against the counter, watching you. there’s a certain fondness in his eyes that you don’t notice, too focused on pouring.

you turn around and hand him one of the glasses, keeping the other in your hand. he takes it, holding it up toward you.

“cheers,” he says

you smile and clink your glass gently against his. “good stream,” you say in unison.

you take a sip while he tilts his head back, chugging the entire drink in one go. your eyes widen slightly at the sight, but you quickly recover, shaking your head with an amused smile.

“fuck, that’s good,” he groans, setting the empty glass behind you on the counter.

you take another sip of your drink, watching him carefully as he takes a deep breath, clearly about to say something.

“so, what did you think?” he asks, his eyes focused on you. you blink, distracted by your drink for a moment before meeting his gaze.

“hm?” you tilt your head slightly, unsure of what he's referring to.

he clears his throat, straightening up and looking at you with a serious expression. “do you believe me now?”

you furrow your brows, genuinely confused. “believe you? what do you mean?”

before you can process it, he steps in front of you, raising his arms and flexing them dramatically.

that's when it hits you.

you try to hold back a laugh, putting your half finished glass on the counter as you try to control yourself. his serious face only makes it harder for you to stop.

he frowns at you, his arms dropping as you laugh softly. “hey! what are you laughing at?” he asks, not understanding what's so funny.

you cover your mouth, trying to smile less. “oh, yes,” you manage, “point proven, mr. big man jungkook.”

his face falls, clearly thinking that you don’t take him seriously. “god,” he says, rolling his eyes. “you still don’t get it, but i’ll prove it to you someday.”

your brows raise slightly. “you know you don’t have to, right?”

he stares at you for a moment before exclaiming, “i do!”

you blink in surprise as he sighs. “i really do.”

you sigh, walking closer to him, reaching out to cup his face cheek gently. “hey,” you say softly, “you might be a grown man now. but, to me, you’re still that little crazy stubborn jungkook from when we were kids. you know that, right?”

but he doesn't like that.

he looks at you, then scoffs, holding your hand and pulling it down gently. “but that’s not what i want you to see!” he whines, his tone almost childlike.

you cross your arms, trying to hold back a smile. “okay, you’re being dramatic now,” you reply. “why are you so adamant about proving something that doesn’t need to be proven?”

he steps closer to you, “because—” but then stops himself before saying anything.

you wait for him to finish, but he just stands there, silent.

“because i just have to!” he says suddenly, exasperated.

you let out a long sigh, frustrated with the whole thing.

“don’t sigh at me like i’m a kid,” he snaps immediately.

you try to argue, “i am n—”

but he cuts you off again, “you were.”

you look at him, taken aback. he meets your gaze, and you can’t help but smile. leaning a little closer to him, you tease, “are you mad?”

he’s still standing close enough that you can feel his presence, and you reach up to ruffle his hair, trying to lighten the mood. “we can get takeout, maybe—”

before you can finish your sentence, his hand grabs your wrist gently, but firmly enough to stop you. you stumble back, your back hitting the counter as he steps closer, his other hand placing itself beside you on the counter to trap you there.

you blink, unsure of what’s happening. his gaze is intense, but he doesn’t speak. you can feel some kind of weird tension building, the space between you two quickly dissapearing.

as he leans down slightly, his body completely trapping you on the counter, and you can see the way his arms flex with every movement. you gasp softly. your noses are so close, just inches apart. his breath brushes over your lips, and you can feel your heart beat a little faster.

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. what is he doing? why is he acting like this? did you say something to upset him?

his eyes flicker down to your lips for a brief moment, and then back up to your eyes, his gaze sharp and serious.

“jungko—”

he pulls back suddenly, his posture changing. “i need to take a shower,” he says, his voice calm but slightly awkward.

“huh?” you respond, still processing what just happened.

he clears his throat, stepping back, his body relaxing as he looks down at himself. “i stink right now, look at all this sweat,” he says casually, as if nothing happened.

you blink.

you glance down at his shirt. “oh... yeah,” you reply, your mind racing to catch up with the situation.

“takeout sounds good,” he adds, snapping you back to the present. “you take care of it, and i’ll be back soon,” he says before turning to head towards his room.

you’re left standing there, still leaning against the counter, completely stunned.

what the fuck just happened?

note: yeah jungkook's gonna be banging his head on the wall in the shower cuz bro was CRAZY FOR THAT—

💌 series taglist: @dna-black-and-blue @vrsltz @jkvamp @dieforkoo @myjungkookthighs

💌 permanent taglist: @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas

[alice-driver]

Luke Castellan x fem!reader

Don’t Tell Me No

Summary: No matter what you ask of Luke, he’ll always do it because he simply can’t say no to you, “his best friend.” Friends-to-lovers, happy ending.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Specifications: Content is for all audiences. The reader has no physical characteristics, and their cabin is not specified in the story to make it easier for the reader to identify with the character. Thank you.

I don’t speak English, so there might be grammatical errors here, sorry :(

(Let me know if you notice anything, and I’ll fix it.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

To everyone at Camp Half-Blood, it was obvious that Luke and you weren’t just friends, but whenever someone asked about your relationship, you both denied it, insisting you were “just friends.” To everyone else, your mutual feelings were crystal clear—except to you two.

This was reinforced by the way Luke treated you. Whatever you asked, he never said no. Why would he? Why would he refuse when you were his everything? Maybe he spoiled you too much, but who cared? If you asked for the moon, he’d pull it down from the sky and hand it to you without hesitation. Maybe that’s why you always asked him for so much. Every day, without fail, you’d ask him for something—a favor, sometimes several in one day—and he never refused. No matter the circumstances, he’d always say yes because you were his world. You knew this, which is why you took advantage of it—not just to spend time with him, but because you wanted to feel loved by him. And you were, but you needed constant affirmation.

“Luke! Carry me to my cabin,” you demanded one evening. He’d had a long, tiring day—something you didn’t know—but he didn’t mind. It was you, after all, and he’d do anything for you. Without a second thought, he scooped you up into his arms like a princess.

As he walked toward your cabin, you gently swung your feet back and forth, played with the short hair on the back of his neck, and planted soft kisses on his skin. It was normal for you two, the “best friends.” To Luke, it still gave him the same nerves it had the first time. He wished those moments could last forever, but soon you arrived at your cabin.

“We’re here. Sweet dreams, princess,” he said softly as he set you down carefully, as if you were something fragile. His calm, steady voice sounded perfect against the quiet of the camp at night.

You smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You loved when he did things like that; it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

“Rest well, Luke,” you replied. Your smile was like the sweetest honey to Luke’s heart. It was the reason behind his special treatment of you. Every time he gave you something, he’d receive that smile in return, and it made his chest feel warm. He felt special, knowing he was the only one who could make you smile like that.

The next day, you spent most of your time without seeing Luke, which soured your mood. You finished the tasks you’d been assigned, but none of them overlapped with his.

It wasn’t until lunchtime that you finally spotted him from afar. Triumphant, you grabbed your tray and made your way over to him with an excuse ready.

“Luke, give me your grapes. They look sweeter than mine.” Without hesitation, he reached for his plate to give them to you, but Chris interrupted.

“Why should he give them to you?”

You’d never been questioned before, and the situation felt horrible and embarrassing. It seemed like Chris had said it loud enough for the entire camp to hear. You didn’t know what to say or do. Chris had never interfered between you and Luke before.

“You don’t want to, Luke?” Your voice came out as a soft, nervous whisper as you looked to him for reassurance. Luke, meanwhile, stared angrily at Chris.

You’d never stopped to think if Luke was okay with everything you asked of him.

“Shut up, Chris,” Luke snapped before swapping his grapes for yours and placing them on your tray. His heart nearly broke when he saw the sad look on your face. He’d never do anything to upset you. All he wanted was to make you happy.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Enjoy the grapes,” he said in the same soft, understanding tone he always used with you. His reassuring smile told you everything was fine.

“Thank you, Luke.” His nickname for you felt comforting, and you managed a small smile before rolling your eyes at Chris, who wasn’t pleased to see you getting your way. You turned and went back to your cabin’s table.

Once Luke was sure you were seated and eating, he turned to Chris, furious at how he’d treated you.

“What’s your problem? Why’d you talk to her like that?”

“Don’t you see it? She just treats you like her servant.”

Luke thought carefully before responding. “And so what if she does?”

Chris stared at him in shock. He knew Luke was a lost cause.

The conversation continued, with Chris trying to reason with him—a task Luke didn’t appreciate.

Taking a deep breath, Luke replied, “Look, Chris, if I wanted to say no, I would. But I don’t want to.”

“You’re a fool in love,” Chris said, shaking his head.

Luke tried to hide his blush, clearing his throat before responding, “In love? No, she’s just my—”

“Yeah, yeah, your best friend. I’ve heard it a thousand times. You’re blind, man,” Chris interrupted.

Chris’s words planted a seed of doubt in Luke’s mind, though he already knew the answer.

He was in love with you.

After lunch, you searched the camp for Luke, but he was nowhere to be found. You began to feel insecure, wondering if your requests had finally bothered him.

You spent the rest of the day finishing your tasks with little enthusiasm. Your mind was swirling with questions: “What if he doesn’t want me anymore?” or “Does he hate me now?”

Luke, meanwhile, spent his day distracted, thinking of you. His questions were different: “How can I tell her how I feel?” and “Does she feel the same way?”

There was supposed to be a campfire that evening, but you had no energy to attend. Your siblings tried to convince you to go, but you declined, and they didn’t push further.

Luke had made up his mind to confess his feelings that night. But when he didn’t see you at the campfire, he grew worried. After learning from your siblings that you’d stayed in your cabin, he quickly headed there.

You were lying on your bed, having taken advantage of the solitude to shower and change into your pajamas. Wrapped in a blanket, your legs were curled beneath you as your head rested on your knees. You were starting to feel sleepy, your damp hair sticking slightly to your skin in the warm night air.

Hearing a knock at the door, you assumed it was one of your siblings. Groggy, you got up, wrapped your blanket around your shoulders, slipped on your slippers, and opened the door without checking who it was. Then you returned to your bed.

Luke stood at the door, surprised by your indifference to his presence. Summoning his courage, he softly called your name, his voice louder than he’d intended in the silent room.

Hearing his voice, you quickly get up, making yourself dizzy with the sudden motion. Luke noticed immediately and hurried to your side. You sat back down on your bed, and he followed suit.

“I didn’t realize it was you. Sorry, I was falling asleep,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper after hours of silence. Luke found it amusing.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I was worried when I didn’t see you at the campfire,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“I just didn’t feel like going,” you replied, unable to hide a smile at his gentle gesture.

“Why not? You usually love those events,” he said, then continued before you could respond, “It’s when we get to spend the most time together.”

He was right. Between training, chores, and duties, the campfires were when you could truly be together. His words made you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his tone kind as he softly stroked your hair. “I just thought you’d be there. Without you, it wasn’t fun,” he confessed.

His admission surprised you, and your cheeks turned pink.

“I’m sure you could have fun with Chris,” you teased. Luke chuckled.

“Chris isn’t fun.” This made you laugh.

“I don’t think he likes me very much,” you said.

“He’s just like that. He doesn’t understand,” Luke replied. You looked at him, confused. Noticing this, he took your hand in his.

“Doesn’t understand what?” you asked. Luke had been hoping you’d ask. He took a deep breath, carefully choosing his words.

“He doesn’t understand…” He paused, nerves overwhelming him. “He doesn’t understand that I’d do anything for you because…” This was harder than he’d thought.

“Because?” you prompted, though deep down, you already knew the answer.

“Because you’re everything to me,” he said, adding your name. You’d never liked the sound of your name as much as you did in that moment, spoken by him. “I like you,” he admitted.

You didn’t know what to say, but actions spoke louder than words. You moved closer, placing a hand on his cheek before pressing a soft, slow kiss to his lips. Though the kiss was brief, it told him everything he needed to know.

“I like you too, Luke,” you whispered, your faces still inches apart. Both of you were blushing, looking like the love-struck fools you truly were.

“I feel so silly now. I thought you hated me because I always ask you for so much,” you confessed, embarrassed. His hands never left yours, keeping you close.

“Hate you? How could I? You’re my everything. I’d never say no to you, and I’d do anything you asked if it meant seeing you happy.”

This time, it was Luke who leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, tender kiss that lasted much longer than the first.

When you finally pulled away, you asked him something you’d wanted to for a long time.

“Luke, will you be my boyfriend?” Your question caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny the joy it brought him.

“Yes, princess” he said, both of you laughing as he brought your hands to his lips kissing with a romantic tenderness.

“Luke, kiss me.”

“I could never say no to you,” he replied, cupping your face in his hands before giving you the most romantic, heartfelt kiss you could imagine.

The next day, you two were even more affectionate than usual, making it obvious you’d finally taken the leap.

“Finally, man?” Chris approached Luke, asking the question everyone wanted to know.

“Finally. We’re dating,” Luke replied confidently, happiness radiating from him as he watched you from across the camp.

“See? All you needed was a little push,” Chris teased.

Maybe Chris didn’t dislike you as much as you thought.

[kazu-naito]

deep diving into the angel hierarchy of heaven's secret:

disclaimers: a) most of what i'm writing here are my own thoughts and theories; b) i'm not yet caught up with the abh january update, so if there is anything missing from there i'll add it later on

in the original duology we never got much information about how the angels hierarchy work in this universe and only knew a few names, however we did get the full picture in hsr and the order goes: seraphims > cherubs > thrones > supremacy > authority > beginning > archangels > angels

so far into the hs we've only met representatives of 3 of these 'classes' (aside from regular angels ofc) and i put one for each here:

(moreover, keep in mind these rankings are not exclusively set by birth, as we've seen rebecca climbing from the very bottom to the very top)

now it differs a bit from most of the christianity angel rankings, in which supremacy and beginning don't exist, no alternate names that i found had these names but i don't think it matters. in this context they would be replaced by dominions and principalities, respectively. still going by these, there's an omission of virtues but they do what they gotta do (or maybe they belong to that empty spot in the middle)

going back to heaven's secret, the only visible difference between angels of different spheres is that those of the first sphere have yellow/golden wings, whereas everyone else has common white/fair wings. a good example is fencio, who lost his throne status and therefore - the colour of his wings as well

i also don't think they would've shown us the full ranking if it wasn't gonna be explored more, after all we went years without it with no issues. and it was only the angel's that was revealed, not the demons' as well

from the new characters we only know of mikael's ranking so far - archangel. which tbf makes it a bit hard to guess everyone else but here are some theories:

possible spoilers for the january update

raphael: although he is not mikael's blood brother he could still also be an archangel. throughout the book we see he has a special connection to heaven and formidable power - he could be a regular angel with unusual abilities. i don't think he is higher ranking than mikael since he is his 'subordinate'

somnus/furius: higher ranking than mikael. i haven't seen the wings to put them amongst the actual big shots but if i had to guess i'd put them in the second sphere - they have enough power to be an archangel's superior but if they had actual power they'd be busy ruling heaven and not supervising earthly matters

anhea: regular angel. she has said it herself she fought the war against the mother of life on the outskirts while the big names were in the frontlines

cain: everything about him is a mystery ngl. if we are to believe pileon's words about him going against his own family, the type of power he possesses, the easy superiority in fights/energy/strength against other immortals - i would say he is in the very least an archangel. the recent confirmation that his family is indeed dead (and he was very very likely responsible) made me think he either got a lenient punishment (which wouldn't happen if he wasn't 'important') or he got a punishment similar to fencio's and lost his original ranking. or maybe he's just old idk

[elgara-vallas-dalen]

I love this point, so to add to this: I'm not American, so the U.S. election didn't hit me like it did for many Americans and I didn't care about the timing of Veilguard's release in that regard, but I think the general point here is still true. Ultimately, Veilguard is a game about hope and a game that very strongly rejects cynicism in the face of tyranny and people abusing the endless power given to them. And it doesn't do that by bathing in grittiness and then having the Good Guys win, but it does it from its very beginning on. Varric proclaiming that he wants to talk to Solas, who is presented as a villain, because they used to be friends a decade ago, is exactly that and Veilguard is heavily rejecting a lot of conventions of many comparable games with stuff like that. And oh, fucking boy, I absolutely adore it for that. That's like a breath of fresh air in this media landscape that mistakes cynicism for maturity and hope for escapism. That's honestly what makes Veilguard special to me and more meaningful in its themes than most games released over the past few years, but it also explains very well why there are so different reactions to it. The way it's told is obviously conscious, and it's not just about queerness (although that is an important and beautiful part) but about how our current landscape of mainstream games has little idea how to tell stories of hope and kindness (especially in the face of a world that makes both hard) without treating both as completely unrealistic escapism or having some cynic side commentary. I get why that cynicism is so prevalent because it's also a big social coping mechanism, but I just loved how Veilguard questioned that. (Even more than Inquisition which, to me, makes the narrative of the series even better because I love how Inquisition and Veilguard are connected but tell very different types of narratives in different styles, no matter the similar setup.)

And this is not meant as an attack against people not enjoying Veilguard but rather to underscore the point that Veilguard does some things very consciously that appear to be divisive exactly because they are done consciously and because the point the game makes there doesn't work for everyone, especially on a emotional level. That's fine and even good and I'd wish more people would realize that instead of claiming Veilguard is "bad" or whatever.

Okay. I think I've twigged to a reason why this game is so polarizing for the fandom. Please, allow me to ramble about this theory in these dawn-light hours, pre-coffee.

You see, Veilguard is a fantasy. I don't mean its genre is fantasy, we know that. I mean that, for the first time, the story Veilguard tells is itself a fantasy. And a pretty explicitly queer one.

(vague and mild spoilers for Veilguard below)

A world where strict, seemingly narrow-minded mothers can accept and use their child's correct pronouns and be proud of them. And where entire organizations rally around said child to affirm them.

A world where a queer organization stands up to all flavors of tyranny, and while it may suffer great losses, is victorious in the end. Its future is one of supreme hope for lasting change because one of their founding members becomes the ruler of their nation.

A world where a common enemy ACTUALLY unites everyone to fight back and those efforts are welcomed, even from those whose ethics are questionable. Because now really ISN'T the time for in-fighting. There will be time to discuss your morally dubious recruiting methods AFTER the world-ending calamity has been vanquished.

A world where the return of a tyrant is stopped, because the people joined hands with friends, neighbors, and loved ones and refused to let go.

And then they WON.

(depending on your choices, in the end love LITERALLY wins (the love was there and it mattered after all).)

To me, Veilguard is clearly a response to its development cycle. It hit its stride during the height of the pandemic, when people were sick and dying en masse, and most people felt more isolated and helpless than they had in generations. Facism was (is) on the rise across the world. And a very queer and neurodivergent development team looked at the world they lived in, then at the one they'd created, and made some choices about the story they would tell.

And then it released mere days before the US election. I finished playing it on election night (or rather the wee hours of the next morning). And can I tell you? This queer, neurodivergent, nonbinary person NEEDED this story. This exact story.

But, maybe not everyone needed it. To my reckoning, it's the first DA game to take such a firmly hopeful and positive approach to its storytelling, and that's bound to be divisive in a fandom as... Opinionated as ours (affectionate, mostly 😂 ).

Genuinely, I am sorry if it wasn't what you wanted or expected. I'm sorry if you felt let down by your favorite franchise. That fucking SUCKS.

But know that, for some of us, it was a lifeline in a very dark and tragic week, and I suspect it will remain so in the months and years to come. I hope that, if you ever need a dose of pure hope, you might give Veilguard another try.

[aishangotome]

[Gilbert] Love's Cleaning Time - Part 3

Part 2

Michael, thank you for your letter. I'm relieved to hear that you're doing well in Rhodolite. Regarding the matter you wrote about the other day, I looked into it on my end. It seems there's a collector in Rhodolite who specializes in buying books. This collector apparently buys rare books at whatever price is asked, and the poor, aiming for a chance to make a fortune, are desperately searching for treasures. I thought Rhodolite had good public order, but it seems every country has its share of troubled people. Akatsuki's bookstore isn't famous because the books he handles are too niche, but many of the books he deals with are rare and valuable, the kind of gems that would make a collector drool. Ah, I can't sleep at night when I think that something might happen to the little rabbit. Knowing you, Michael, you've probably already identified the person behind those watchful eyes. Could you use them to meet with the collector? And invite him to Obsidian's black market. ––I hear there are many rare books of historical value there.

Gilbert: Hmm... An outing after so long makes my heart race. Don't you think?

Roderich: ...I have a headache.

Gilbert: Ahaha, pull yourself together. You were the one who said it, right?

Gilbert: That thieves should be taken down.

Roderich: I can handle this alone.

Roderich: There's no need for Prince Gilbert to venture to the outskirts...

Gilbert: Hehe, I've wanted to see the black market for a while now.

Roderich: ...What would Walter say if he knew?

Gilbert: Ahaha, why should Walter restrict my actions?

Gilbert: This black market is really quite amusing, isn't it?

Roderich: .....

Fleeing Man: Run! It's the military!

Fleeing Woman: Why is the national army here!? No, I don't want to die!

Man with a Pile of Books: No, I just came here without knowing anything! Why must I be detained by the military –– uwaaah!

Gilbert: Ahaha, what a grand hunt. How strange.

Roderich: ...Was this truly necessary?

Roderich: Even though the black market is illegal, it exists due to political deals.

Roderich: The collapse of this black market will earn the resentment of some nobles.

Gilbert: That's the reason I came here.

Gilbert: You know why I'm called the "Conqueror Beast," don't you?

Roderich: ...Of course.

Gilbert: Resentment from the nobles? Ahaha, I'm not kind enough to let them harbor such things.

He steps on a man who lies pathetically on the ground, books scattered around him.

Even when his cane digs into the man's skin and he cries out in agony, Gilbert doesn't care.

Gilbert: Filthy creatures like him think nothing of hurting others for their own greed.

Gilbert: As long as they get what they want, they don't care if innocent people get hurt.

Gilbert: This world is overflowing with "unconscious malice."

Gilbert: That's why I have to be overprotective.

Gilbert: If the most beautiful thing in this world were to be harmed by such an insignificant creature...

Gilbert: I would want to destroy the world right now, wouldn't I...?

Roderich: Prince Gilbert...

Gilbert: Hehe... Roderich, I'll leave the command here to you.

Gilbert: Ah, and also...

Gilbert: Keep it a secret from Michael that I was rough with them, okay...?

*back to present time*

Emma: –– ...It's true, I stopped feeling those eyes on me at some point.

Emma: I thought it was just my imagination and almost forgot about it, but...

Gilbert: Hehe, that's good.

Gilbert: I'm glad nothing happened to you.

(I had no idea... Behind my peaceful everyday life was the goodwill of a great villain.)

Prince Gilbert takes the documents from my hand and traces the letters with his finger, a nostalgic look on his face.

Gilbert: I got scared after that.

Gilbert: Akatsuki said it would be alright, but it really wasn't.

Gilbert: There are so many dangers around you, and something could happen at any moment.

Gilbert: I couldn't stand the thought of it... so I ended up doing it.

(Michael continued to come to the store after that.)

(I talked to him about all sorts of things, unaware of the person behind him.)

Gilbert: I'm sorry.

Emma: Why are you apologizing? This is a story about how you were protecting me...

Emma: I should be thanking you ––

He gently places his index finger on my lips.

Gilbert: No, little rabbit.

Gilbert: You were being watched the whole time. By a royal from an enemy nation who did terrible things to Rhodolite –– no...

Gilbert: By a strange man, all this time.

Emma: .....

Gilbert: Little rabbit... do you know what the most troublesome evil in this world is?

When I shake my head, Prince Gilbert slides the hand that was on my lips to my cheek.

Gilbert: "Goodwill."

Emma: Goodwill is evil?

Gilbert: Yes. Goodwill, when you look at it another way, is "unconscious malice."

Gilbert: If you didn't know me...

Gilbert: ...and you found out that "a spy from an enemy nation's royal family was secretly watching your life," how would you feel?

(If I didn't know Prince Gilbert and only knew that information...)

Emma: ...I'd be scared, very scared.

Gilbert: Right?

Gilbert: In the worst case, it could have been more terrifying than being attacked by thieves.

Gilbert: My goodwill would only be malice to you.

Emma: .....

Gilbert: That's why you shouldn't thank me so lightly.

Gilbert: I'm a villain through and through.

Gilbert: The leader of the "filthy creatures."

(...Thinking back, I was scared during my time as Belle.)

(Prince Gilbert knew everything about me, and I felt like I was being watched.)

(But when I heard that story just now, I didn't feel scared.)

(Maybe my senses are already messed up.)

(...Or maybe ––)

Before Prince Gilbert can pull his hand away, I grab it ––

.

.

.

Part 4

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[yvainetres]

Scars

Ninjago Headcanon

Description: Ranked list of who I believe has the most to least scars in the Ninjago crew. (Early seasons) Plus how easily they scar. Bonus Sal (My OC) at the end.

List from most to least.

Jay - This boy definitely has the most scars when he joined the team. With the amount of machinery and tinkering he does, there is no doubt he has burnt, cut, and bruised every bit of his body at some point. Maybe not the biggest scars but the most, and he scars easily. Like ink on paper. He's practically littered in tiny/medium scars with one or two major scars after being with the ninja for a while. I also believe he loses physical awareness when he's focused, causing more injuries which causes more scars. The only thing that doesn't scar him is electricity, thank goodness. Otherwise, he'd probably be dead.

Kai - He worked in a blacksmith with sharp tools since he was a child. Considering the fact he has no self-preservation and he refused to let anyone help him (Nya especially), his body is practically a canvas of scars. A mix of small and medium ones. His skin scars pretty easily, which doesn't help, his hands in particular being the main victim to his normal injuries. The only reason he has less than Jay is he can't get burnt. Removing 50% of the scars he would have.

Coles - About the midrange of the team, Cole has a few scars, but due to being the Master of Earth, he has tough skin. Therefore, he doesn't scar easily, but when he does, he SCARS. Like scar scars. Massive scars that make a person question what animal he had to wrestle to get them kind of scars. Truthfully, none. He did mountain climbing for fun and has learnt many lessons from those scars.

Nya - The only reason she doesn't have many scars when joining the ninja is because her overprotective brother made sure she didn't get the chance to gain scars. And if she did get one, he had a herbal paste he used to prevent it from leaving anything visible (why he never used it on himself Nya doesn't know). However, when she joined the ninja, she started gaining a few. Kai too distracted to take care of them now. Still, she doesn't have many even though she scars easily, (not as easily as Kai).

Zane - Zane's a tough one because well... he's a robot. His synthetic skin does scar, but it doesn't heal the same way as a human, and it definitely takes a LOT to even break the skin. In order to repair it, he has to replace it or coat it with a special metal like paste. Something he didn't know about when he thought he was human, luckily his skin was pretty much perfect with maybe one or two cuts that just didn't disappear. Not until they discovered the paste. Zane hates having to replace sulynthetic skin, which is only done if damaged beyond repair (he's only needed to once). The fake skin is hard to find and leaves patches unless his entire skin is replaced. Something he has never done and luckily never has to do once he gains his titanium body. Overall, his body doesn't really scar thanks to its metallic qualities.

Lloyd - I wholeheartedly believe Lloyd can't scar. Like at all. And believe me, he's tried. With the mix of Oni and Dragon blood flooding through his veins no matter how injured he gets, there will be no trace of it once it heals. His skin is completely flawless.

Bonus:

Sal - When she joined the crew, she was in between Cole and Nya. She doesn't scar easily, and when she was on her own, she was very on top of preventing scaring. However, the moment she joined the ninja, that care was focused on their health rather than her own. Eventually, after a few major events, her level of scaring became roughly in between Cole and Kai.

[pupmkincake2000]

So, I finished watching Arcane. I watched both seasons twice to be sure of my conclusions. I am not writing this to have a discussion, argue with someone or spread hatred towards certain characters. Basically, I am just expressing my opinion while the impressions are still fresh.

First of all. I think the series has not enough episodes, but not because I liked everything so much and want more, but because there was simply not enough time for the world exploration and the characters. I would add at least five episodes to each season to make things better.

I felt like the events were moving too fast, especially in s2. I can only praise the graphics, they are truly magnificent, also the action is divine, the dynamics, the movements, the special effects, the character desig... all of this is top notch.

But I have a lot of complaints about the rest.

Let's start with Vander and Silco.

Yes, I ship them. No, I don't think Vander is an abuser and a traitor, if you think otherwise, well, our opinions differ here. Vander is the best man of the show, you cannot convince me otherwise and he is probably the only man who I would have married in real life.

Vander is my sunshine, I love him and respect him, no matter what anyone says. And I sincerely wish for more characters like him in leading roles.

I really wanted more of their interactions. At least two more episodes to show their past, maybe their acquaintance and to expand on that scene in the river, which gave people a very strange opinion about their relationship.

Do I think Silco is good? No, he is selfish, he did a lot of shit and tried to kill the daughters of a woman who was his friend, he raised one of them to be a complete psychopath, lied to her… but in his own way he loved her. However, he still did a lot of shit. Do I hate him? No, I still ship him with Vander, but I don't think Silco's a good person. Do I think he's redimable? Maybe, but I hate when people use his past to redeam him, redemption is something you do now, past only explains how you became what you became.

Jinx. Despite everyone's love for her, I think she deserved everything she got. But I "admire" how the fandom is protective of her. A rough childhood in the past does not justify her behavior in the present. You may think otherwise, you may like her, but I do not, although I think she is a very bright and memorable character, but as a person, as a human being she clearly sucks. The part with Isha just popped out of nowhere and seems far-fetched.

Ekko. Ma boy! I love him, but there is a "BUT". Basically, Ekko is the one who started this whole mess. He was the one who gave Vi a tip about Jace's apartment, and basically, he is indirectly to blame for Vi's death in that AU and in our universe he is to blame for Silco tracking down Vander. That's all. But do I blame him? No.

Ekko and Jinx… well, I liked their dynamic and chemistry in the alternate universe. But I think they probably wouldn't have a future in the original one.

Vi and Caitlyn. Well… they just are. I find it hard to believe that two girls from literally different worlds could fall in love within only two days. Of course, I do not think that such romances aren't possible, sometimes you see two characters and that just becames so obvious for you, but I personally didn't have that feeling with these two. Again, I didn't have enough of their dynamic together. And also I can't be mad at Caitlyn for switched to Maddie. It did feel odd, tho. But she and Vi.. there was just one quick kiss between them, no love words, they didn't even have time to develop their feelings into a relationship. And then there was a sex scene. I don't hate this ship, it's bright and dynamic, but something was lacking between them for sure.

Jayce (whom I like the most in season 2) and Victor ship. This one is complicated. Let's start with the fact that I understand why people ship them. But… they didn't feel as a potential ship to me at all. Probably because I've seen enough of such ships and they don't surprise me at all. This is a ship of two friends, that's a common thing in fandoms. Two conventionally attractive guys, one of whom is built like a god. I like their dynamics individually, or as friends, but I will never argue with anyone that ships them, I will never say the ship has no right to exist or that they are "brothers" because someone said so. I don't care about them as a ship, but I see that people are inspired by it, and I don't see anything wrong with people considering them soulmates and lovers and I sincerely don't understand the hate towards the boys. I think it was obvious from the very first moment that peopple would ship them.

However, I will still add a fly in the ointment: I did not like Jayce's speech at the end of the series about Victor being perfect even with his imperfections he had…I just… Dude, are you serious? This imperfection is literally killing your friend and if what happened hadn't happened, he would have already died. His imperfection was causing him hellish pain, it is not even about the looks, bad habits like alcoholism and smoking, it's not even about physical limitations… it's about dying, for gods sake! So are you for real?

Maybe everyone sees this moment in their own way, but it was cringy for me to hear it, despite the beauty of the scene.

Vi and Jayce. I really liked their dynamic together, I would probably ship them, but alas. However, I liked their conversations, how they work together, I would like more moments with them, they would make great friends.

That's it, probably.

I'm glad that Mel will be in Nexus. And I also don't understand the hatred towards her, although I also don't think she and Jayce are a good couple, they should have remained just friends and colleagues.

[cryptid-killjoy]

"Cool, we're the pineapple under the sea crew if Iorek's in."

Normal chatter until Livvy came up. There was Figaro looking on the bright though.

"True. She's not dead. At least I'm not mourning her legendary pirate soul." He started to grin at the simple act of calling her a pirate recalling how she got her name to begin with. It was so silly. How could he not smile? Then it fell. "Pretty sure she wouldn't want to see me if we did bump into each other." Then it started to grow again. "But watching her attempt to ignore, act cool, or act audacious, whichever would be cute either way." He chuckled at the thought wondering where her instinct would take her.

As for missing the randomness of people in society for these two social creatures Will was nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, exactly. That's exactly what I mean. We need chile, Smalls. I'm more used to life being a chilli cook off actually. Not just Skyline versus Goldstar, but a god damn county fair cook off any day I feel like not being in the walls. You hit the nail on the head there. Some days I even want a Chilli Dog."

Nothing got his smile to spread more than the mention of Hansel. His time in the walls was special to him. But, oh the phrasing, in the closet. He laughed out loud. "Don't crush me with ideas, Smalls. Hansel's a handsome guy." Willem would hardly be ashamed to admit he got off with a couple girls more on the idea Hansel might have been peeking through the secret wall holes and believing he was giving him a show than the thought of the girls he was with. He never said these sorts of thoughts out loud though. Hansel was probably that best friend secret soft-crush he'd never move on because A. dude was straight, and B. he'd never want to hurt Funkytown if something went wrong even if he wasn't straight. He started to realize flirting with Diana too much started to be an issue. He never wanted to hurt a doll in any way. Either way he sure didn't mind giving Hansel a show and enjoyed it.

When they got out of the bus it was hard not to notice the amount of corpse debris strewn about. He flared his nostrils on first foul breath. He put the back of his wrist up to his nose. "You might want to wear that around your neck. Damn." His brows furrowed as his face cringed unable to stop inhaling in the pungent odor due to need for breathing. He'd smelled worse, especially in the beginning, but he still wasn't used to it no matter how long he'd lived in Feral.

All he could even think to say about Quarantine was, "That's Feral for ya." It was hardly shocking even if his nose still disliked it.

Another big smile spread when he saw Figaro with a rather large weapon. "Hell yeah. That's what I'm talking 'bout. Dear Davey Jones. You look so... kick ass."

The best part of Bastien and his hoarding and their strange nothing you need store is everything that's expensive is nothing but a treasure hunt away. This appealed to Willem's pirate looting side. Bastien had a tendency to hoard anything and everything and organized in a system of his own design. Willem was more specific with his looting. That said one can best bet Wild Will came home to Funkytown one day with the Resident Evil VRs for his horror movie watching household. He brought enough headsets for half the dolls to play and even modded them to fit smaller dolls heads. Of course, the Polly Pockets and action figure sized were still out of luck, but he tried to make them user friendly. It was one of his own favorite loots.

"Yes, and please." He was ready to go up and check out the dolls that were haunting his mind tonight. He knew he wasn't going to sleep well if he didn't go check on them. So, he led Figaro on up to Livvy's old apartment. Willem had over time even gotten the key to the front door to the place because he heard of Frank's people races for Feral. The reality was most didn't make it beyond the race and if they did, they weren't prepared for what Feral was. The zombies got them before they had a chance to settle in, but on the off chance someone was a tough cookie that survived the Feral trials he wanted to keep this one space safe. So, he'd be seen pulling out a key of his own and unlocking her apartment as if it was his own. It wasn't a difficult item to acquire when the Landlord's office was abandoned.

"This is it." He knew Figaro wanted to rummage her uncle's belongings, but he still walked back to Livvy's room first.

"Her room is back here."

The shelving unit he made that Livvy never saw would be there, installed, and covered neatly in her collection of dolls and figurines. They were all lined up with care and placed at aesthetically pleasing angles.

He reached in for the mermaid first and sat on the edge of her bed. "I love this one." He said before kicking off the portion of his costume that made his feet look like hooves. They were getting uncomfortable, and it was a show he was making himself comfortable and intended to stay for a while. He was in no rush.

He took a dust cloth that was sitting off on a side table and wiped it off. It was still sitting there from last time he'd been in along with some Windex and dust spray. He intended to wipe down the shelves and tend to each one like he always did.

"She loved this one." He added. The Livvy Mermaid. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he enjoyed letting the memories whirl around his head as he touched each one that were living in boxes before he pulled them out, like a collector too afraid to open them up afraid of them losing value instead of enjoying them. The only difference was he knew that wasn't why she kept them in the box. Willem always saw Livvy as another little giant too busy trying to be what she wasn't or who she thought others needed her to be to enjoy who she was. That's why he knew those dolls were loved even shoved in the back of a closet in boxes instead of given away, donated, or sold off. It was thoughts like that which Livvy never quite knew or understood about Willem because they never dwelled long on depths of each other, but it was still thoughts like that which kept Willem attached. It was too close to home.

"Every now and again I think about bringing them all back to Funkytown, but I think they'll worry they might miss her if she comes back." He'd say as if they were actually alive and had thoughts and feelings even all of these didn't have any of the Geppetto magic on them. Willem believed he understood all the feelings of dolls even when they didn't.

"They don't get too lonely. They have each other." He let Figaro know in case they were worried. It had been a worry of his.

He looked more at peace in there than at the ball. "You don't have to sit here while I tidy them. You can go exploring like you wanted. I can meet you in there when I'm done if you want?" He had a feeling Figaro would get bored watching him dust the figurines and shelves and fluff the dolls.

“I am feeling pretty jolly,” Figaro admitted. Seeing their father was bittersweet but there was a lot of good to take away from that. He was watching over them. And he was proud. The ghosts of their Merry Men friends stuck around. There wasn’t much reason to not be jolly.

“I think I’d make a sick Larry,” Figaro hummed as they careened the bus down the mountain road. “Hey Iorek, you wanna be Gary?”

The bear let out a sound that sounded half-whine, half yawn. Figaro looked over their shoulder at him.

“Mrs. Puff? You want to be Mrs goddamn Puff?” They said, with wide eyes. “Damn. I didn’t know you wanted to go for sex appeal. Let’s fuckin do it.”

They nodded, not having much of an opinion either way of whether Livvy was still going to be active in their lives or not. “Hey, she’s alive though, that’s something,” They said. Not a lot of people were these days. “So there’s a chance that you’ll be able to see her again.”

Looking on the bright side wasn’t always their forte but when it came to Will? Goddamn, they really wanted him to be happy. Even if it was with someone like Livvy. That girl had made him smile, while also being frustrating at the same time. Messy - but at least he was showing his teeth.

“You’re right about that, I miss meeting people,” Figaro said, eyes on the road, their voice actually being serious. “Nothing against our friends obviously but - yeah. Variety in the spice of life and we’re not getting that. I’m growing sick of paprika, I want some chile.”

They didn’t mean this romantically, obviously, but they were a social being. There was nothing shy about Figaro. They’d just pop in and make themselves at home, that’s how they made a lot of their friends. And either they gott rejected, or they were invited in as if they had always been there. Meeting Flotsam, as if they had been instant best friends the moment that they met. The high school cafeteria table where they sat, despite not really talking to Arthur and Lance, boom, as if they had been sitting together since kindergarden. And then inviting Willem over to live with them despite only having spoken for a couple of days. They tested that chemistry with a lot of people. And now there wasn’t anyone to pop up on.

Figaro agreed though. Willem did need a certain kind of chaos in his life. “Maybe she’ll surprise ya one day,” They offered. Granted, it seemed HIGHLY unlikely that Delta was ever going to invite in someone like Livvy, a human that didn’t offer that much to her at all. Not without killing her or something similar. But regardless. Stranger things have happened.

They chuckled as they heard Willem sing and joined in with the tune. “-in the closet, that’s Hansel, he’s a bit shy so don’t scream too much!”

They parked up by the playground and looked out the windshield at the building. This area didn’t get much upkeep in Feral. Willem was the only one who really ever came to it. Old blood - once a bright red but now a brick-brown, blended into the walls, and a few bodies still lay around, decomposing. Figaro grabbed the Dragon-Fruit Little Tree air freshener from the mirror and wrapped it around their wrist. “Man, I hate the smell of the dead in the morning,” They sighed.

The bodies didn’t smell too much. It was mostly just bones and a bit of ooze. Being left out in the elements like the sun and the rain definitely had their effects. But they took a big whiff of the air freshener before daring to step outside.

It was still dark, the sky only lightening slightly, as they approached the building. It seemed so desolate. It didn’t need the Frank and Delta treatment to be spooky. “Why am I getting REC vibes? Quarantine? I wish I had a machete.”

That’s when they spotted something glistening. “Oh hey, a dead cop. Oooooh, hey, a dead cop’s gun!” They said, going towards it and took it out of the corpse’s fingerbones. “Now we’re going Resident Evil, baby. Let’s go hang out with some cool dolls.”