#what do we think do we like the fancy speech bubble?

[moon-buggg]

Hide and Seek. Viewers are free to imagine context for this<3

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been��� thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

[agirlandherkinks]

Hypnovisor: Beta Test (TGTF, Hypno)

James had always been a tech super-fan. The newest phone, newest headphones, shiniest laptop, he had to stay abreast of and on top of the current trends. So when he read about some fancy new VR company that wanted beta testers for a headset, provided for free (minus shipping), his vision blurred and he signed up before he even considered finishing reading the ad.

Three weeks of anticipation and waiting passed until his doorbell finally rung, accompanied by the corresponding buzz of an email notification on his phone. Scrambling from his couch he flung the apartment door open, and to his mild surprise saw that the postman was nowhere in site. There was just a nondescript cardboard box labelled "Fragile", which fortunately bore none of the expected dents and scratches one would associate with the postal service and delicate freight. Practically bouncing with undignified delight, James scooped his parcel up and dashed back inside, barely remembering to lock the door behind him.

The headset looked even better than he had imagined. Sleek plastic curves surrounded a central visor that was just translucent enough to see through, meaning you could walk around safely if you turned a program's opacity down. It fit beautifully when he tried it on, more comfortable than anything he'd ever worn. Wearing it felt wonderful and... right, somehow. His only complaint was that the black headset was decorated in hot pink highlights, although it still looked futuristic enough to sooth his fragile masculinity. His roommate and best friend Erik certainly agreed, interspersing James' insightful comments with appropriate "Ooh's" and "Aah's". Waiting for the battery to charge seemed to take a thousand years, although chatting with each other about what it could do replaced their boredom with swiftly growing excitement.

Two hours later, a soft buzz from the headset in the corner signified its charge was complete. Erik cheered, his sandy-blonde hair bouncing behind him, and even James couldn't suppress a soft whoop of excitement. Erik unplugged it and handed it to James with a flourish and a bow, who accepted it with a suitable stuffy speech. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he was so giddy with anticipation he felt he could match Erik's goofiness for once. The advertisement had promised unmatched realism, a luxurious fit, and cutting-edge, groundbreaking technology. Normally James would have discounted claims like that as corporate claptrap, but the headset fit so well he actually believed the rest of it.

Booting up the headset brought a perky, relaxing jingle in his ears and wall of settings text in his vision. He would have read it, but between his own excitement and Erik's infectious enthusiasm he left the settings on default and skipped to the main menu. The feedback for the buttons was amazing, it felt just like he was pressing down on them whenever he touched one! Another little jingle sounded as he confirmed his choices, and a few games and applications bubbled up into his view, imposed over a hot pink background.

"So Erik, what do you think I should try," James asked. "We've got a music player, interior design app, some sorta idle monster game, and a few RPG's." "Surely try out the RPG's man! You've gotta see that high-definition you were yammering about when we called." Erik's voice came back surprisingly muffled, as if he was speaking down a long tunnel. "Bro, I can barely hear you, the noise-cancelling on this headset's insane! It's like I'm in a world of my own!" James took a deep breath, recovering a little of his composure. "Alright, an RPG it is. Fantasy, sci-fi, or modern day?" "Go fantasy! You know we've both got a thing for elf chiiiicks. Hell, with the kind of feedback you were telling me about, you might even get to grab her" Erik's distant voice sounded playful, with a ting of desire and jealousy. And it did make James hard, at the thought of getting to look and squeeze and fondle some busty elf bitch, made entirely to his wishes~

To James' horror a quiet moan escaped his lips, accompanied by faint hysterical laughter from his friend. Brushing it off angrily, he slammed the icon for 'Silverflame: A Magical Journey' (the button felt like thick moss to his touch). Instantly a soft flute begun to play in his ears, accompanied by the gentle lull of a harp and a quiet sparkling. James felt himself relax, all the tension draining out of his body. Erik must have noticed too, because James heard his laughter die down to be replaced with a slightly concerned silence. "Don't worry man," James said, "music's just really pretty..." He trailed off with a slight giggle, but heard Erik give an affirmative just before a silky, sultry voice started to speak.

"Welcome traveler, to the beautiful world of Silverflame. An untamed paradise where strange beasts roam the land, noble adventurers go forth in search of treasure, and the most wonderful magic [James shuddered] is woven. You are the latest brave, beautiful heroine [Heroine? Shouldn't I get to choose my character's gender first?] to step foot into this land. But first, tell us a bit about who you really are."

Pink sparkles rained across the screen, superimposing his view of a vibrant meadow with a series of stats. Physique, IQ, Wisdom, and Charisma, fairly standard stuff. And next to it, a human man with a blank, slightly happy expression on his face [...did he look familiar?]. James gasped, he looked just like a real person! Erik was suitably impressed by this information, and urged him to pick some stats so he can get to the body modification. "You can always change them later man, might as well pick a couple of stats now and get a move on. Sounds like you're not gonna get to pick your gender for a while, which kinda sucks. Buuut if we're being horny about this, you might as well go for a slut scaffold so you make less changes later." James chuckled at this, remembering the build they discussed one night while both sloshed beyond belief. For this game it would be high Physique and Charisma, low IQ and Wisdom. James touched the slider for Physique, and gasped as he felt himself feel... better than he had in a long time.

Not trusting his senses any more, and worrying about Erik being exposed to whatever was happening from the other side of the headset, James brushed off his concerned questions (which he could barely hear now, past the soothing, soothing, music) and suggested he went to the toilet, since he'd been holding it in since he got here. Erik grumbled at missing out, but mercifully left. James was actively sweating from what just went through his body, but couldn't muster the energy or concentration to feel the level of panic he knew he should be. The music was just so, so calming, that fear was harder to feel than usual. The prompt told him he still had to change two more stats, so he decided to turn down Wisdom. He gasped again and his vision went blurry, and when it cleared he felt a bit, fuzzier? In the head. But it wasn't too bad, in fact it was perfectly manageable. He felt even calmer now, so maybe changing another stats would make him feel better. Why not IQ? He tapped the slider.

He groaned as an immense pressure wrapped around his brain. Thoughts, aspirations, memories felt like they were melting from his head faster than they appeared. The pressure seemed like it lasted forever, but eventually it trailed off and he was left panting in his chair. It had felt, really good? Like, tots good, even. James giggled to himself. Something was different about him, but he couldn't think what. Oh well, it'll probably come to him later. He squealed in delight as he realized he could get a step closer to the body modification page, although he looked longingly at the IQ slider. He could come back to it later, for now it was time to make his super-hot elf slut a body!

James clapped to himself with delight as a cute little melody played, a shower of sparkles spiraled [spiraled...] across the screen, and the man on the side moved to the center of the screen. "Firstly", the sultry voice said, "choose what race you want to be." That was an easy choice. He clicked on the 'Elf' button, and shivered as he felt tingles run through his body, intensifying in his ears. Reaching up to touch them, he inhaled as he felt long, pointed tips. In fact, his whole body seemed a bit slimmer. This doesn't quite feel right... he thought. Oh I know! It must be making me an elf too! Maybe we'll be in a party together! Between the strange fuzziness and the pulsating heat in his groin, James quickly flicked to the next page and made his choices. Long, silver hair, gorgeous big purple eyes, and some giant perky lips. "Combination unlocked!" the narrator exclaimed, "+1 Charisma, -1 Wisdom!" James giggled again as the mental fog settled a little tighter around his brain and naughty thoughts about cute girls and boys filled his brain. Boys? Well I guess I've never minded swinging both ways... This felt natural to him, because of course he'd always been bisexual. Next screen!

"Choose your voice young heroine," the woman commanded. James felt a little strange, like her voice was echoing around his head. And why were the sparkles still there, spinning and spinning around the screen. He felt confused, but knew he had to obey that voice. He picked the sexiest combination for his own voice; high pitched, breathy, perky. "Combination unlocked! +1 Charisma, -1 Int." He moaned as that wonderful pressure wrapped his brain and his weekend plans changed to eyeing hunks at the beach. Girls were cool and all, but men had always been more interesting to him [and their pulsing, hard...].

"Now heroine, can you tell me: Are you a girl, or a boy?" The question sent shock waves through his brain. He was a he... right? Why did it feel like there was some longing, some need to acknowledge the woman in him... her? The fog, the music, the spirals, all the feelings he had been having, James could hardly think. Maybe he should think less. Being a girl sounded fun, it's just a character after all. And he needed to be sexy. "Wonderful choice young lady! Now, are you a dominatrix, a super-switch, or a bimbo slut?" Bimbo slut~ James giggled as the words echoed in her brain. She was a bit of a slut, now that she thought about it. It felt odd to pick it, but why not for funsies? "Bimbo slut selected! Wonderful choice, just wonderful. Hold still while your stats are adjusted, and then we'll begin on giving you the perfect, sexy body you've always wanted."

The spirals filled her view and began increasing in speed. James was taken aback at first, but quickly felt oddly calm and receptive to that sultry voice.

"Physique +1, Physique +1, Physique +1." James felt wonderful, like every ache and blemish in his body had faded away.

"Wisdom -1, Wisdom -1." Thinking was fuzzy, but Jamella felt so content she didn't care.

"Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1, Charisma +1. Charisma +1." Jamella gasped as visions of sexy men, pecs and abs and juicy, throbbing cocks filled her mind. A desperate heat filled her, and she began touching her groin against her will to try and ease it.

"IQ -1." She moaned, feeling light.

"IQ-1." Empty. She was so, wonderfully empty.

"IQ -1." This was like, so much funsies! She didn't know what was going on, but everything felt so nice~

"IQ -1. Congratulations Ella, you now have the 'Bimbo Slut' build."

Ella giggled absently. Thinking was like, so hard, and she felt like, so hard~. The fun spirals had disappeared... But the nice lady was talking to her again! With great effort, she listened in. "Now that your mental changes are complete, it's time for the physical changes!" Ella rubbed her thighs together and cheered in excitement. She couldn't wait to have more fun! "Unless you choose so now, the process will be au-to-ma-tic [...why was she using such big words?]. You can choose to take over at any time, or wait until the end and adjust as you please [...please. That word felt funny in her brain]".

"No user input detected. Body adjustment commencing."

A nice shiver went through Ella's body as she felt her headset warm against her face. Looking at the boring young man she'd begun to customize (her reflection, of course), she couldn't wait to begin! She sighed happily as waves of pretty silver hair drifted into her view and cascaded down her back. It felt especially nice against her smooth, soft skin, and she couldn't help but gently shake her head to watch it sway. A cool feeling brought her attention to her face, and the alluring amethyst eyes now set in it. Her face itself became much more elegant [but cutesy, too!], and she puckered her lips as a lovely pressure made them swell and bulge out, giving her a sexy and kissable pout [the boys'll love this look! boys~]. She felt herself shrink a few centimeters, gulping as her Adam's apple disappeared into her body. In fact, her whole body had become even more slender, with narrow shoulders, adorably small hands [pretty purple nails!], and a tiny little waist. She gasped, then clasped her hands over her mouth in delight. Her voice was so high and cutesy! She couldn't stop herself from giving out tiny, high-pitched giggles, just to hear how cute she was!

"Basic body structure altered. Adjusting outfit in preparation for primary and secondary sexual characteristics."

Ella ooh'ed appreciatively as a stream of sparkles enveloped her body. And when they disappeared, she squealed in delight! Her drab t-shirt and denim shorts were gone! In their place was a beautiful silver mini-dress that shimmered like starlight when she moved. She frowned in vexation, though. The plunging chest and shoulder-less design was very pretty, but her chest was flat! [shouldn't I have tiddies? The boys won't like me like this...] And the way it clung to her waist and hips would have been sexy, but as it was there was barely any difference between them! Her ass wasn't nearly big enough to justify how the dress cut off barely past it, and with how tight the fabric was Ella could see how achingly hard she was [wait, why do I have a cock? I'm supposed to get cock! In my mouth, in my ass, in my tight little pussy~]. It wasn't right!

"Thank you for your patience sweetie. Optimal figure calculated. Prepare for adjustment of sexual characteristics."

Ella let out a moan as a wave of heat and pleasure washed over her. With how horny she was she could barely keep her eyes open, but she knew she wanted to watch herself become the sexy little [cum] slut she was meant to be [I want it... I want to be~]. The heat settled in her hips, her ass, and her chest, and she moaned again as the changes begun.

Her nipples grew first, more than doubling in size and stiffening through the soft fabric of her dress. Tentatively touching them induced a gasp of pleasure [so nice~] and sent her rocking backwards. The motion made her giggle, because in that time she'd grown a cute pair of B-cup breasts that jiggled when she rocked. Jiggle makes me giggle. I like giggling. I like jiggling. Ella nodded thoughtfully to herself, feeling very wise. Her boobies grew to C-cups. She jiggled some more. She giggled some more.

A tightness around her hips distracted Ella from her tiddies. They were growing! She groaned as fabric and flesh tightened around them, too euphoric to feel pain. Sliding her hands from her waist to her hips made her squeal happily. She had such a sexy hourglass figure, she knew any girl worth her money would be jealous [and the boys would wanna hold me and squeeze me and fuck me raw]. Thighs thickening dramatically in response to her growth, she slapped her ass in impatience. Why won't it get bigger already!

But get bigger it did, swelling out in response to her touch. She fell forward as sheer pleasure blanketed her mind and weakened her knees. Squishing her boobies against the ground made her feel even nicer, until she was panting and moaning for somebody to help, to hit her again and make her bigger~

A slap landed on her booty, and she groaned in delight as it and her thighs swelled again. More. More! I NEED MORE! She moaned in ecstasy as blow after blow landed, making her swell and grow and grow and swell and feel so gooooood! Her tits inflated to D, then E-cups [good for the boys. I can jiggle so well for them~]. Her hips widened and thighs thickened, until she looked ridiculously large compared to her waist [ridicu... ridic... really, really sexy...] And her ass kept growing, and growing, and growing and growing and growing and growing! Tighter! Around my cock! Cock... I... oh~ Too... too... much! Too much! I'm~ I'm!

OooOOoOoOOooOoOoooOOOOOHHH~

Ella screamed in delight as she came, just cumming and cumming and cumming her tiny little brain out.

"Wisdom -1. IQ -1. Charisma +1. Charisma +1."

She was desperate, humping against the ground as the flow of cum abated from her cock. Everything she had been was flowing out of her messy stupid brain, and everything that she should be was coming in. Boys... Cock... Need fuck... Breed~ I'm such a dumb little cum slut~ She giggled to herself.

"Final adjustment required."

Ella stood up shakily, the bottom of her dress a cum-soaked mess. She squealed with delight as the mental fog settled even tighter and she felt an intense heat in her groin. She could see the tops of nipples trying to break free from her dress, and could feel the air drift over her ass, which had mostly escaped the fabric in her growth. So sexy. Hehe~ Boy can take me~ Don't even need dress off~ Thinking hard... Her ass and hips had pulled up so much fabric that her cock was visible now, deflating and still leaking from her orgasm, but she gasped in pleasure as it began rising up again. And, as she felt something long and hard brush her booty [cock? Boys? Fuck?].

A pressure like hands on her shoulders forced her to her knees, and she whimpered in desire as she felt an unseen cock touch her cheek. At the same time, something began intensely stimulating her own. She reflexively opened her mouth in a moan, but was cut off as she felt the cock shove inside [Feels~ Feels!].

All thought stopped.

Her mind was blank, full of pleasure and desire and happiness. Her cock felt good like it never had before, and the dick in her mouth tasted wonderful~ This was what Ella was made for, what she was meant to be. Feeling good, feeling sexy, feeling a pleasant emptiness that could only be filled with cock. Her haze reached a crescendo. Dimly she was aware of her own cries of ecstasy, muffled by the cock fucking her mouth and mind, as she came harder than she even had before. And as she came, her dick shrunk with each spurt until it went inside her [inside me!]. The cock withdrew from her mouth, filling her with a desperate longing. Emma moaned for her unseen hero, then gasped as she felt him once more. And blinked in surprise as the pretty meadow and her sexy reflection disappeared.

She was kneeling on the floor of an unfamiliar room. Shaking off a little of her confusion [don't need know much anyways...], she gasped as the tell-tale smell of pre-cum filled her nose. There was a man standing in front of her!

Sandy-blonde hair. Body like a surfer hunk! Naked. With a massive, sexy cock, dripping with her saliva and it's own juices. Ella moaned in desire, falling on all fours. Visibly trembling with lust, he tenderly cupped her cheek and slowly moved behind her.

Touching her with his [cock!].

Ever so gently, on the edge of her [...pussy!!!!]

He rammed inside her, and she screamed as an absolute feeling of rightness, of sexiness and pleasure and single-minded happiness rushed through her [MORE! HARDER! COCKKKK~]. Riding his dick she felt herself go into a trance, with nothing, absolutely nothing, disturbing her feelings. Ever. This was right. Ella moaned and surrendered to herself, drifting away on her lover's cock and mindless pleasure.

[suugarbabe]

Saint-Like

Here we are my darlings, the long awaited George one shot based off of this ask.

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Word Count: 3k (told ya it'd be a bit long)

Warning: mention of blood, angst, kissing

Professor Moody stalked about the living room giving a speech that did not make anyone feel any less uneasy about what was about to transpire. “Potter, you’re underage, which means you still have the trace on you.” Harry looked up confused, “What’s the trace?” Moody placed both hands on his walking stick for support, “It means that if ya sneeze the ministry is goin’ to know who wiped yer nose. The point is we have to use those means of transport that the trace can’t detect, brooms, thestrals, the like. We go in pairs. That way if there’s anyone out there waiting for us, and I reckon there will be, they won’t know which Harry Potter is the real one.” 

Harry looked confused, “The real one?” Moody’s face turned up slightly, a grin forming as he grabbed his infamous flask from his jacket pocket. He stirred the flask with a swirl of his wrist, “I believe you’re familiar with this particular brew.” Harry immediately shook his head, “No, absolutely not.” Hermione rolled her eyes behind him, “Told you he’d take it well.” Harry continued, voice strained, “No, if you think I’m gonna let everyone risk their lives for me-” Ron cut him off abruptly with a sarcastic tone, “Never done that ‘ave we?” Harry turned to face his friend, “No! No, this is different! Taking that, becoming me? No.” 

“Well none of us really fancy it, mate,” Fred piped up, smug grin across his face. “Yeah imagine something went wrong and we end up a screwy, specky git forever,” George teased, smiling alongside his twin. “Everyone is of age here, Potter,” Moody spoke up again, “They’ve all agreed to take the risk.” A short man in the back spoke up just then, “Technically, I’ve been coerced.” He turned to Harry, “Mundungus Fletcher, Mista Potta, always been a ‘uge admirer.”

“Nip it, Mundungus!” Moody scolded. The small man’s head went down, turning back to his spot in the back of the room and staying quiet. “Alright, Granger, as discussed,” Moody nodded toward the witch. Hermione walked past Harry, gripping a patch of hair at the back of his head and pulling harshly, pulling out several hairs. “Blimey, Hermione,” Harry rubbed the back of his head. Moody instructed Hermione to drop the hairs in the polyjuice potion in his flask. The potion began to bubble as Moody stirred it around with another  twirl of his wrist. 

“For those of you who are not familiar with the polyjuice potion, fair warning, taste like goblin piss,” Moody stated comfortingly as he handed the flask to Fred. Fred took the flask from him, “Have lots of experiences with that, do ya Mad-Eye?” Moody continued to stare at Fred, face blank and unchanging. Fred let out a sigh, “Just trying to diffuse the tension…” Those in the line all took a large swig, first Fred, then George, followed by Mundungus, Fluer, Ron and lastly Hermione. You stood next to Hermione and watched in amazement as the row of people all slowly started changing, skin bubbling to transform into Harry. 

You watched your George shrink several inches and he transformed. His clothes became far too large for his frame. “Is this how you feel when you borrow a shirt from me, love?” he looked over at you, a smile on his - well Harry’s - face. You shook your head, cheeks becoming a shade darker than before, “You know it’s really hard to take you seriously when you look like that.” He shrugged as he started to get dressed in the same exact attire as Harry. The goal was simple, pairs would travel with a Harry look-a-like towards the Burrow. Mad-Eye said he anticipated an attack by death eaters and that the risk was high. You and George agreed to be involved immediately, no questions asked. 

Once everyone was changed you all filed outside, you grabbed your broom. You hopped on, George floating next to you on a copy of Harry’s broom. Moody stood at the end of the drive, announcing it was time to leave. You both took off together, staying close by one another. As you got deeper into the clouds, it looked like a lightning storm. Moody went further ahead of the others. In an instant you were seemingly surrounded by black cloaks swishing by spells being thrown on either side of you. You turned to find George, you had to assume he was still the Harry closest to you. 

You knew you were close to the Burrow. You looked over to check on George once more just in time to see a death eater point their want towards him. You panicked, not knowing the spell they would speak and instantly flicked your wand toward George, “Depulso!” George’s body slid farther away from you, narrowly missing the spell, or at least almost. You noticed his body go slightly limp, his broom altitude dropping quickly. You dove after him, grabbing him in your arms and speeding toward the barrier around the burrow. 

As soon as you were through the barrier you headed to land, nearly crashing into the cornfields. He still looked like Harry as you fervently started checking his body for damage, “C’mon Georgie, wake up. You’re okay, right? You’re okay.” His head was bleeding, you turned it to the side, noticing his left ear nearly missing, “Oh, Georgie.” He turned his head back and forth, mumbling something. You put your ear next to his mouth and he mumbled again, “Y/n/n, yer…kneeling on my hand.” You jumped up, and he attempted to roll over to his side. Thankfully he was still mostly Harry, you threw one of his arms over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, doing your best to take hold of most of the weight. 

You stumbled out of the cornfields, seeing a few of the others that made it before you two. Harry, the real Harry, was quick to come to the other side of George, helping you take him inside the Burrow. Molly turned from the sink as soon as she heard commotion, eyes glued on the now changing boy back into George. “Oh my boy,” Molly rushed over as you and Harry laid George on the family sofa. Remus walked in with another Harry that slowly turned into their normal self, challenging each one making sure they weren’t an imposter. 

You ignored the background noise, focusing solely on the red head in front of you. You got a washing cloth from the kitchen, dowsing it in cool water to begin to clean his wound. As you approached the sofa again Molly snatched the rag from your hands, a glare upon her face as she pushed in front of you to tend to her son. Fred entered the Burrow, rushing to his twin’s side. It was silent for a long moment before Fred spoke, “How’re you feelin’ Georgie?” George’s eyes were still closed, taking slow deep breaths as he responded, “Saint-like.” 

Fred shook his head, “Come again?” George smiled softly, “Saint-like. I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Ya get it?” He then pointed to his ear. Fred just shook his head again, smiling, “The whole wide world of ear related humor, and you go for ‘I’m holy’. It’s pathetic.” George winked at you before responding to his twin once more, “Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” You laughed softly at his ability to ease a room  in even the most stressful of times. Molly turned at the sound of your laughter, glaring at you once more. You could understand her feeling protective, but you were unsure why she was taking her anger out at you. 

You attempted once more to get closer to George now that he was talking to others more, but Molly was quick to step in front of you. “I think you’ve done enough for tonight dear,” Her voice was low but stern. You were sure confusion was written across your features, “What do you mean, Molly?” She gestured toward the other room, “Maybe it would be best if you kept your distance for the night.” Her face told you not to argue with her. While she was usually the soft and comforting one, she could instill fear when needed. 

You took the hint and went into the other room, pacing back and forth. You kept playing with the rings on your fingers, one in particular George had gifted you last Christmas. You wished you could talk to him, it pained you being pushed away like this. Pained you so deeply you swear you could feel it on your side. Your right side. You placed your hand onto your torso, wincing as you touched just below your rib cage. You lifted your shirt slowly, peering down to see a deep gash. “Bloody hell, that’s not good,” with the realization of your wound you felt more light headed. You assumed the lack of adrenaline also played a part in this. You turned back towards the main living area, intentions of calling out for someone when everything started to fade around you. 

—------------

George moved to sit up, laughing slightly at the several members of his family fawning over him. He looked around searching for the face of the one person who’s voice he hadn’t heard since he landed at the burrow. “Where’s Y/n?” George went to stand up, albeit a little shaky. “She’s just in the other room, I asked her to give you some space,” Molly rubbed his arm in comfort. He started walking towards the room, “Why would you do that mum?” He walked a little quicker towards the next room. He turned the corner to see you laying facedown on the floor. 

George rushed over, shouting for someone, anyone to come and help him. He turned you over, noticing how slow and shallow your breathing had become. He did the same inspection you had done just an hour prior, checking your face, your neck, down your arms. He ran his hands down your sides, your body involuntarily twitching as he reached your wound. He lifted your shirt as Remus and his father came to kneel next to him. George gasped as he saw the deep gash on your side, the edges burned black clearly from a dark spell. “What do I- how do we fix her dad, you have to fix her…” George’s eyes brimmed with tears, pleading to his father. Kingsley came to join the older two men, encouraging George to stand back. 

George stood there, tears streaming down his face as Remus, Arthur and Kingsly worked over your body. George was still recovering himself, swaying back and forth as his anxiety and blood pressure got higher. “C’mon, Georgie, let’s go sit you back down before you’re the next to pass out.” George reluctantly followed his twin. As soon as he was sat on the couch, Molly came rushing to his side again. George’s face was in his hands, making his words come out muffled, “Mum, please, I love you, but please give me some space right now.” 

“Oh, darling, wha-why?” Molly stood up confused. George shook his head, “Mum you told her to go over there, to leave everyone else, to leave me. Why? Why did you do that? She was in there alone! Who knows how long she was passed out for!” George’s voice got higher and higher with each word. Molly took a step back in shock. “George, she- she was supposed to protect you. She was paired with you to keep you safe and look how you turned out, you could have died George!” He stood up instantly, face screwed in anger, “Well now she might die, mum.” And with that, he stomped up the stairs, two at a time until he reached his room. 

—-----

What felt like hours later there was a knock on George’s door. He kept his face in his pillow, shouting back, “Go away.” He heard the door open regardless of his wishes. He remaining in his position even though he heard footsteps approaching him. He felt a dip in his bed before he heard your voice teasing him, “Don’t want to see me, is that it George? I heard I was all you could talk about.” 

He turned over so quickly he nearly knocked you off the bed. He grabbed you onto his lap and embracing you tightly. You hissed slightly, causing him to pull your body away from his and he glanced down at your side, “Oh, y/n/n, I’m sorry, how’re you-how does it look?” You leaned back slightly, lifting your shirt to show him your waist wrapped in bandages, “Looks about as good as your head.” You touched the side of his face gently, fingers dancing over his damaged ear. His eyes closed at your touch. He relished in your presence, brain mulling over him almost losing you just hours earlier. 

He hadn’t noticed himself become emotional until he felt your thumb wipe a tear off his cheek. “Why are you crying, Georgie?” Your voice was so soft, always a comfort to him. He shook his head, realizing how daft he’s been, “I’m just so stupid.” You laughed lightly, another mesmerizing sound to him, “What are you talking about?” He opened his eyes, though they were still downcast, “Y/n, I haven't been honest with you. Erm, honest with myself either, really.” He felt your fingers lift his chin, making him look into your eyes. 

“You know you can tell me anything, no matter what you can tell me,” you wore a soft smile on your lips, doing your best to encourage him to continue. He just stared at you for a moment, taking in how gentle your eyes looked at him, the bit of dirt still on your cheek from earlier in the night, how soft your lips looked right now. George was so lost in thought he almost didn’t notice you getting closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck now, still waiting for him to respond to you. 

“It’s just…I…,” he trailed off, eyes shooting to your lips, back to your eyes and down again. You just nodded, closing the gap further, “I know, Georgie, me too.” And then it happened, your lips were on his and he was in heaven. One of his hands cupped your face as his other steadied on your hip, your lips slotting against one another fervently and with purpose. You felt his tongue glide against your bottom lip and granted him entrance without hesitation, allowing him to explore your mouth and deepen the kiss. 

He attempted to pull you even closer, hands grabbing at your waist. You pulled back with a hiss, both forgetting about your injury. “Oh Merlin, I’m-” You shook your head, smiling, “It’s okay Georgie, I’m okay.” You cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb across his skin, “You scared me tonight. You can’t scare me like that, I thought I was gonna lose you.” He chuckled at this, “Yeah well I could say the same to you.” You shook your head, smiling at the red head, “You know I realized something tonight.” He looked at you curiously, “Oh? And what’s that.” 

“I love you Georgie,” you bit your lip, waiting on how he would respond. He reached up, his thumb lightly pulling your lip from your teeth, “I love you too, Y/n, so much.” He leaned in to kiss you once more, your lips just barely grazing each other when you heard someone clear their throat in the doorway. You both turned to see Fred, leaning against the door frame with a smirk plastered on his lips. 

“As adorable as that was to witness, there’s someone downstairs wanting to talk to you both,” Fred pushed himself off the frame, turning to leave. He grabbed ahold of the frame quickly, popping his head back into the room, “If I wasn’t clear, I was talking about mum.” You climbed off of George’s lap, allowing him to also stand up from the bed, “Thanks genius, didn’t quite get that one.” 

You walked with George down the stairs, fingers intertwined while doing so. Molly’s eyes clocked the connection immediately, her face becoming more apologetic than before, if that were even possible. She met you both at the bottom of the steps, wrapping you in her embrace immediately, “Darling, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted, what I said to you, it was rubbish, truly.” She pulled back, tears brimming her eyes. You shook your head, “Molly, no. He’s your son. You just love him so much, I understand the feeling.” 

You looked up at George who gave you a small smile and a wink in return. Molly, missing nothing, quickly wrapped her arms around both your necks, planting kisses on each of your cheeks, whispering in your ears, “We’ve been waiting for this, your father and I. Probably another reason I was so emotional earlier.” George leaned back, “What dya mean you’ve been waiting?” Molly simply smiled, “I know the look dear, you’ve had it with her for, gosh, how long now Arthur?” 

“Since year 5 for them both, Moll.” Arthur yelled from the other side of the room. You felt your cheeks burn, surely visibly red for everyone to see. George was also blushing, not realizing how blatantly obvious he had been over the years. Fred came up behind you both, slinging an arm over each of your shoulders, “Thank Merlin for that though, yeah? He wouldn’t nearly have been as passionate about where you were if he wasn’t always looking for you in a room. Probably would’ve been longer before we realized you were passed out.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, he really was a Saint for me tonight, wasn’t he?” Fred looked at you puzzled, “Come again?” You pointed at George’s bandaged ear, “He’s holy Fred, Saint-like.” Fred just groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed through the both of you. George however smiled, grabbing your chin and planting another kiss on your lips with a smile.

Taglist:

@luv4kani ; @somekidinacoma ; @huahuali ; @ell0ra-br3kk3r ; @wollymalfoy ;

[neversetyoufree]

idk if this has been discussed before, but do you know what kind of power jeanne’s mark has given vanitas? i feel like it’s such a crucial part of the story but it’s never talked about 😭

[Image Description: A photo of a Case Study of Vanitas manga panel. Over the image of the Mark that The Vampire of the Blue Moon left on his arm, Vanitas says "These Marks appear when vampires embed a portion of their power in someone else, so that anyone who sees it will know at a glance the difference in their power." End Description.]

I'll honest, the details of how the Marks work aren't something I'm incredibly confident on. I do think you're right that they haven't been explained as much as they could be. Especially not Luna's Marks and the transfer of power they allow, since Vanitas is purposely cagey about that. That said, I do think I have an explanation for this issue:

I don't believe Jeanne's Mark is meant to have given Vanitas any power in the way that you mean.

In the panel you've included, when it says vampires "embed a portion of their power in someone else," it doesn't mean the Marked victim can use the power of the vampire that Marked them. Look at the panel right before the one you included:

[Image Description: A panel from the Case Study of Vanitas. Over a background of splattered blood, a series of speech bubbles reads: "That's right. A Mark you leave on those whose blood you suck. A show of force, a statement intended to repel other vampires: "This prey is mine."" End Description.]

Leaving a Mark is claiming a person as your prey. Giving extra power to someone you intend to drink would be extremely counter-productive for vampires. Can you imagine if Astolfo had inherited powers from all twenty-something of the vampires that Marked him? That would be a terrible strategy for a predator.

Rather, it's called a Mark of Possession for a reason. Like the above quote says, they're in large part a statement aimed at other vampires. A Marked human is a human that has been claimed as a vampire's personal possession, and the Mark serves as a keep out sign for others. The vampire that Marks a human imbues that Mark with some of their power so that other vampires who see it will say "oh shit, this human has been claimed by someone powerful. We shouldn't take what's theirs because we don't want to fuck with them."

The confusing factor in this, of course, is that Vanitas has inherited power from Luna, and that inheritance seems to be tied to his Mark. However, in addition to the usual process of Marking, Luna has also made Vanitas their kin.

[Image Description: a page from The Case Study of Vanitas. Mikhail lies in a large bed, visibly ill, and says "Father, am I going to die?" Luna sits by Mikhail's bedside, their face obscured by their hair. They say, "There is... one way I hadn't mentioned. I can make you my kin. But that's... it isn't... a method I want to use." End Description.]

We've yet to get a specific explanation of what being made someone's kin actually means (thanks again to Vanitas's caginess about Luna). However, seeing as this phrase has only ever come up in relation to Luna, Vanitas, and Misha, it has to mean something beyond the usual process of leaving a Mark.

So tldr, Vanitas does get a portion of Luna's power through the Mark they left on him, but that seems to be only because they also made him their kin. When a human is Marked in the normal, non-kin way (like what Jeanne does to Vanitas), there's no transfer of power. A portion of the vampire's power is left in the Mark itself to serve as a signal to other vampires, but that does nothing to enhance or power up the human themselves.

Most of the time, the Marks are just extremely fancy magic cattle brands.

[enviousmoons]

Day 13: Formal Wear

Words: 981

Tags: Suits, Office Party, Risky sex

Link: A03

Ryan almost couldn't take it anymore. Here they were, in the middle of some fancy, upscale party for his boyfriends publishing company, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to bend Alex over a table and rail him. His young stuff of a boyfriend looked fucking incredible in a suit, and Ryan was surprised how much the look had turned him on. In fact, he had spent a good chunk of the night sitting at their assigned seating, legs firmly under the tablecloth to hide the aching, throbbing erection that had plagued him for most of the night.

“Hey babe!” Came Alex’s bubbly voice, clearly more than a little inebriated, tugging a smile onto Ryan’s dour face.

“Hi, how's the party?” Ryan asked him, pulling on the collar of his button up uncomfortably.

“It's great! You should come join ussss” Alex whined,

“Ah, you know I'm not much of a dancer, pup” Ryan smiled awkwardly, inhaling slightly as Alex leaned closer, hand landing on his thigh for support, just inches away from his pulsing dick.

Alex locked eyes with Ryan, a sly grin forming on his face.

“You’ve been hard the entire night, haven't you?” He accused, a rough edge creeping into his voice as he slid his hand towards Ryan's pulsing cock.

“Since I saw you in that Jockstrap..” Ryan admitted, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

“That's adorable babe… well we can't have you like this all night, follow me” The younger man instructed him, hopping up from his seat just as his fingers brushed the head of Ryan's swollen dick. Slightly shocked at his boyfriends brazen attitude Ryan sat, mouth agape, for a few seconds before standing and stumbling after the sandy haired man.

Alex led him to a small corridor, ushering him into a supply cupboard. There was just enough room for the duo to move freely.

“Well big guy, what got you all riled up?” Alex said with a smirk, trailing a finger down his chest.

“Fucking.. seeing you dressed like that..” Ryan replied with a soft shudder, groaning quietly as his boyfriend stretched, showing off a small sliver of skin, and the happy trail that ran beneath his waistband.

“Oh? And what exactly are you gonn-” Alex’s cocky question was interrupted as Ryan grabbed the back of his hair and pulled him into an aggressive kiss, backing him up against the wall of the storage with a soft thump.

As his hands wandered, Ryan began to undo the buttons on Alex’s tight button up, exposing a smooth chest and rosy nipples, which he proceeded to take between two fingers, tugging and rolling them gently. This caused Alex to let out some delicious moans, which were quickly swallowed up in their desperate kiss.

“We don't have.. time for this” Ryan panted, leaning on the wall behind Alex “Aren't you supposed to give a speech in like, twenty minutes?”

Alex nodded sinfully, giving him a smirk that went straight to Ryan's dick.

“Yup.. and I'm gonna do it with your cum leaking out of me” He grinned, twisting in Ryan’s grip, his firm ass pressing backwards against the older man’s crotch.

Ryan just couldn't take the teasing anymore. He reached around, unhooking the button on Alex’s trousers and letting them drop, pooling around his ankles to reveal a firm, round ass encased only in the thin straps of his jock. Mouth practically watering, Ryan knelt, plunging his tongue into his boyfriends hole, finding it clean and inviting as he ate like he was starving.

“and yes, before you ask I did plan for this” Alex said between low groans of pleasure, legs shaking slightly from the stimulation. To prove his point, Alex reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, producing a small bottle of lube, tapping his boyfriends thigh with his foot to get his attention.

In a daze, Ryan rose, grabbing the lubricant and dropping his own trousers and boxers, releasing his throbbing cock to the stuffy air in the cupboard. He was harder than he had ever been in his life, cock throbbing needily. He groaned quietly, squeezing a small dollop of lube into his hand, then slathering it onto his shaft, thumb tracing the pronounced vein all the way down to his mattered silver pubic hair. He gently squeezed a similar sized blob onto his boyfriend's tight hole, pressing it into him with shaking fingers, before bracing himself against the wall again.

At first, there was resistance. A tight, wet heat that made Ryan's eyes roll backwards into his skull in pleasure. He could feel Alex clenching around him, even as the younger man shook and whimpered. He kept pushing forward, knowing Alex was nowhere near his limit yet, until eventually with a pop he slipped past any resistance and his hips settled against the blond’s backside. Conscious of the time, Ryan began to thrust in earnest, leaning forward and pressing Alex into the wall as he chased his steadily building orgasm.

It didn't take long before Ryan was pistoning his hips forwards, deaf to any noise the pair were making as his orgasm coiled in his gut. Alex, eyes wide and face totally blissed out, turned to look at him.

“Hey.. big guy, time to finish up, we only have five minutes.. now fill me up so I can go out in front of five hundred people while your cum leaks out of my battered hole..”

At these words, Ryan couldn't hold back anymore. Pushing forwards roughly, hilting himself fully in his boyfriend, Ryan came with a grunt, hips shuddering as his boyfriend slowly pressed back against him to make sure not a single drop was wasted.

As he softened, pulling out, Ryan wiped the sweat from his forehead, checking his watch.

“Shit.. babe you gotta go get ready! I'll clean up in here, you just go!”

[mediaevalmusereads]

Making Comics. By Lynda Barry. Drawn and Quarterly, 2019.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: self-help, art guide, pedagogy

Series: N/A

Summary: Hello students, meet Professor Skeletor. Be on time, don’t miss class, and turn off your phones. No time for introductions, we start drawing right away. The goal is more rock, less talk, and we communicate only through images.

For more than five years the cartoonist Lynda Barry has been an associate professor in the University of Wisconsin–Madison art department and at the Wisconsin Institute for Discovery, teaching students from all majors, both graduate and undergraduate, how to make comics, how to be creative, how to not think. There is no academic lecture in this classroom. Doodling is enthusiastically encouraged.

Making Comics is the follow-up to Barry's bestselling Syllabus , and this time she shares all her comics-making exercises. In a new hand-drawn syllabus detailing her creative curriculum, Barry has students drawing themselves as monsters and superheroes, convincing students who think they can’t draw that they can, and, most important, encouraging them to understand that a daily journal can be anything so long as it is hand drawn.

Barry teaches all students and believes everyone and anyone can be creative. At the core of Making Comics is her certainty that creativity is vital to processing the world around us.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: mildly disturbing imagery

This is another one of those books that has been on my TBR list for way too long. I love Lynda Barry's work, and back when I thought I had a shot at being a teacher, I figured this would be a good guide for the classroom.

Turns out this book is a good guide outside of it as well, and it motivated me to take up my pencil and start drawing again.

I love that Barry focuses not on developing artistic skill but in breaking down barriers when it comes to making Comics. Barry doesn't lay out how to draw action poses or how to do speech bubbles effectively; instead, this book is all about finding your own voice and learning to do away with inhibitions. Barry praises the artwork of children and demonstrates the relationship between stories and images, and as someone who struggles with not feeling good enough, I felt like I was invited to throw myself into the process of making comics, skill level be dawned.

I also really loved that this book felt like a composition notebook filled with doodles (which it probably was, at some point). It's not a clean, pristine how-to guide with step-by-step instructions, but it is clear while also not being afraid to be messy, silly, and spontaneous. Most of the images are taken from student drawings, and there's a charm to them that I love more than professional pieces.

And lastly, I love that this book uses basic, inexpensive materials for its exercises. Barry does not insist that students buy special paper or pens - composition notebooks and felt tips will do. This also helps lower the barrier to entry so that readers don't feel like they need fancy equipment in order to draw.

All that being said, I do think this book will be harder to use if you're on your own or don't necessarily have any interest in comics within a classroom setting. Barry's book is designed to outline what her comics courses look like, and though you can probably do most of the exercises at home, a lot of them will need partners or groups of people. So just be aware going in that this isn't necessarily a how to draw manual for the lone self-taught student.

TL;DR: Making Comics is a wonderful overview of how to teach comics in a classroom setting using hands-on drawing exercises. Barry is a master at lowering the barrier to entry and encouraging students to find joy and expression in art, regardless of skill level.

[cakerybakery]

A fun comic idea would a comic that has different fonts for accents and ways of talking.

Someone who speaks kinda snooty or pretentiously could have a fancy font

But someone who speaks with a thick accent could have thick blocks that I don’t know how to do on Tumblr mobile.

The dream would be cursive so thick it’s akin to a skyline.

As it’s the point of view of the main character he understands what’s being said about as well as you can read the text.

🧍‍♀️🗯️🏙️

🧍‍♂️💬❓

Over the course of the comic as it gets easier to understand them the font thins. Maybe even shifting font for how people talk.

It’s not unusual to do that. Melody from Joise and pussycats has 🎶 in her speech bubbles. We use #%! to swear. Something like cursive for when someone is being fancy, people who are more monotone or business like could have times new Roman. Comic sans for joking around. It could be used to express tones. Like how we use italics, eclipses, dashes, etc.

I think people would either hate it or want to hate it.

[msommers]

😱 ✨ 👗 for maeve and elena!

WE FINALLY ANSWERED IT BOIS thank u v much for the prompts mwah xoxo // prompts i’d like to receive  

[  😱     ] does your muse have any specific fears? where did those fears come from?

MAEVE — 

scared of griffins after one or two rough encounters, especially that one where she thought dietrich fucking Died getting shoved off a rooftop and then she had to scramble away before her ass got tossed off as well. 

gets a bit nervous if all windows in a space are shuttered/have their curtains closed because it reminds her of the vibe to the sommers estate when carden was around.

feels uneasy when getting too close to fires, can sometimes have her fight-flight-or-freeze triggered if a witcher pops off an igni while next to her and she’s not prepared. initially came from the time carden started throwing all of her writings into a fireplace and she foolishly tried to reach for them out of distress and desperation while he kept on, a move that left her with a burn scar along the underside of one arm (which one i cannot remember atm whoops). add on the no doubt countless encounters she’s had while traveling with witchers. and then in some verses can top it off with that vampire attack on beauclair where everything was either on fire, in ruin, occupied by a feral vampire, or all of the above and she was stuck there. ... :)

hates hates hates hates isolation so much. triggers way too many negative emotions and dreadful memories of the carden era that she usually keeps from bubbling back up by making sure she’s constantly with people. odds are she probably has at least one incident of ending up isolated while on a quest with a witcher that left a lasting mark as well because that’s just her luck.

ELENA —

i don’t think she has nearly as many fears as the bard up there, any of elena’s revolve around social anxiety. she was So Little when people started coming to her for her divine magic or asking for blessings of pelor before she knew what they really meant, it really left a mark on her. left her with a “just use your magic to solve their problem and that’s enough, that’s all they want" mindset to justify her feelings of being shy or nervous to engage in more than small talk or discussion about the issue(s) at hand. she got slightly better at it as she grew up, but the fear of speaking to large crowds or potentially needing to deliver some kind of inspiring speech never really left. smth smth she’s just babey, her charisma is all from her appearance, kindness and the vibes of Pure Good that she gives off from being a divine soul daughter of pelor, she’s not here for deep speeches go ask azlana if you need one of those.

[   ✨     ] what aesthetics or symbols do you reference when writing your muse? are these backed up by canon, if your muse comes from a canon? is there any specific relevance to these choices?

MAEVE — all types of flowers, pretty corsets, fancy dresses, books books books, moments of intimacy between lovers, some more but those are the usual suspects. it’s all simply her vibes, y’know. the flowers tho, those are usually nods to white orchard or how she has them all around her homes. tulips specifically are for after the sommers estate has been entirely reworked under her guidance and she decides to make it the new sigil.

ELENA — sunlight sunlight sunlight, golden and healing hands, burning candles, fields of wheat and flowers, golden and white clothing, blonde girlies in nature. entirely all for the vibes and visuals, no deep meaning to any of it.

[   👗   ] what is your muse’s fashion sense like? are they able to dress the way they want to? what would they wear in an ideal world?

MAEVE — she's fortunate enough to have that ideal wardrobe of hers, has far too many clothes but it's something that brings her joy so who cares. i fully can see her having a room in her estate(s) dedicated just to her wardrobe—the dresses, skirts and tops, coats, cloaks, shoes, accessories, etc etc etc, it's all got its place. she's a super fan of detailing on her things and it's incredibly rare to see her in an outfit that's without any designs crafted into it, her nightgowns and underthings also have them even if it's just a simple pattern. i don’t know how to describe the fashion sense outside of you look at her and think “oh wow that outfit probably cost more than my yearly living and she looks fucking stunning”, because whatever combo of clothes she puts on that day is gonna fit the bill lmao

ELENA — i decided during character creation that it'd be funny if the granger family was stuck in the past with their fashion, so they're still rocking the more Classic fantasy style wardrobes while most of whitestone has evolved with the times. has maybe like one (1) dark red dress and the rest of her wardrobe is all light colors, shades of blue, gold and white. she sees nothing wrong with her clothes and enjoys wearing them, though it can get tedious to assemble some of the more complicated and layered looks that come from the winter season or attending social events where she’s expected to look every part The Sunblessed.

[workscounselingcenter]

Fighting Fairly

As a couples therapist, I often hear variations of the following statements from the clients who come to my office:

“We always fight about the same things.”

“We have a problem with communication.”

“I don’t feel like he/she/they understand where I’m coming from.”

Conflict with a loved one is rarely fun or even comfortable. It becomes exhausting and demoralizing, however, when fighting leads to frustration and anger rather than to understanding and solution. In order to better understand what trips couples up during times of conflict, I often have them reenact an argument during session. Here are some of the most frequent ineffective behaviors I see:

Complaints met with defense: “you promised me that you’d clean the cat litter weekly but you rarely ever do it.” “Yes I DO clean the cat litter. You just aren’t paying attention.”

Not sticking to the problem at hand: “we need to decide where we’re going on vacation this summer. I’d like to go see family in Florida.” “we went to Florida last year and your mother is always putting me down.” “My mother doesn’t put you down. You’re just to sensitive. It’s like the other day when your boss gave you that feedback…”

Invoking “ghost people” to help support one side: “you’re too hard on the kids when they don’t clean their room.” “I’m too hard on the kids? Have you ever thought that maybe you’re too permissive? My sister always comments on how poorly behaved the kids are when she visits and says that it’s because you spoil them.”

Needing to be right: “I feel disconnected from you when you turn me down for sex.” “We’re not disconnected. We’re together every night after we put the kids to bed. Just because I’m touched out at the end of the day doesn’t mean we’re disconnected.”

Lopsided arguing: one person talks (and talks and talks) without allowing their partner to say much at all.

Dysregulation of one or both partners: this is a fancy way of saying that the nervous system is perceiving threat in the environment and the endocrine system is flooding the body with stress hormones. These hormones are designed to get our bodies ready to fight, flee, freeze, or “play dead” in the face of bodily harm and it impairs our ability to think calmly and logically through a problem. This can look like jaw or fist clenching, yelling, repetitive speech, leaving the room, a “glazed” look, or “zoning out”

When we feel threatened, we jump to behaviors that protect ourselves. This is both understandable and normal. Unfortunately, self-protective behaviors can often be damaging to a relationship. Fortunately, there are ways we can train ourselves to fight more fairly.

Own your $hit. When your partner makes a complaint, your job is to listen, acknowledge, and take responsibility for the role you play in their upset, even if it feels unfair in the moment. You’ll get your turn to air grievances but if you jump in with defense, you’re cuing your partner to get ready for battle. This is bad for all involved.

Stay on task. If one complaint leads into a flurry of all the things both partners are upset about, solutions become all but impossible. Contract with your loved one to focus on one thing at a time. This increases your chances of solving problems and decreases the exhausting merry-go-round of fighting about all the things all the time.

Stay in your “couple bubble.” In other words, leave all other people, references, institutions, and dogma out of the conversation. This is between you and your partner. Gathering outside resources to support “your side” is another way to signal to your partner that you’re there to attack, not to collaborate.

Work on THE PROBLEM, not on EACH OTHER. You and your beloved are in one another’s care. That’s the beautiful thing about pair bonding. Built-in teammate! When you make your partner’s beliefs, ideas, or character the target of the fight, you forget that you’re on the same team. When you remember that, you can focus together on solving the problem you’re both having. Additional tip: collaborate, collaborate, collaborate. If you say “no” to a suggested solution, make sure to have another idea in mind. The goal is to get creative and work together to find a solution that works for now and keeps both of you as happy as possible. It won’t be perfect, but you should both feel satisfied.

Practice Equity and Justice. Make sure that each person gets time to speak and that both partners feel seen and heard. When your partner is speaking, your job is to listen, not to build a counterargument. Helpful phrases for ensuring that your partner knows you’re listening are “what I heard you say was…” and “my main takeaway from what you said was….did I get that right?”

Pay attention to your body and the body language and non-verbal cues of your partner. If you notice signs of becoming over-stressed such as shallow breathing, rapid heart rate, tightening muscles, difficulty staying “present,” nausea, etc. it’s time to take a time-out to get grounded. Let your partner know that you care about what they have to say and that you need a 20-minute break to “come back online.” Spend that time doing what helps you calm down, NOT ruminating on resentments or building a counterattack. Similarly, if you notice signs that your partner is becoming dysregulated, it’s a good idea to check in with your vocal tone and volume, facial expression, and other forms of non-verbal communication. Remember: SAME TEAM.

Fighting well and fairly is a practice just like anything else, and many of us lack modeling for how to engage in conflict in a way that is kind and non-threatening. Paying attention to the ways we set our partnership (and, by extension, ourselves) up for failure and pivoting to new behaviors will do wonders for our feelings of connection and ability to communicate effectively with our people. Conflict is the way we grow, and it’s amazing how creative, collaborative, and mutually satisfied we can be when we remember that we can care for one another as we work together on an issue.

[sparklehoard]

All the even numbers from 12 to 24!!

Wooho you got it!

12! What brand of skincare/bodycare/haircare do you trust 100%?

Cerave! I went through a lot of brands of fancy lotion to find one that actually helped all of my problems! You can use it on your face and it'll hydrate your skin with no blemishes afterwards and it's fabulous to put on my inner thighs so I don't get bumps because my thighs rub together.

14. Do you think you're dehydrated?

Nope! I was just at a Christmas party and I was the DD! I'm full of gingerale! And water!

16. Thoughts on mint chocolate chip?

I like it! Like a mint choco marshmallow treat is a very good treat when the mood strikes me.

18. Your boba/bubble tea order?

I love my strawberry black milk tea with classic tapioca! Honorable mentions to peach green tea with mango coconut jelly!

20. Favorite Disney princess movie?

Tangled!!!! I loved the movie, it's music and it's animated TV series it got later!

22. Do you have an emotional support water bottle?

Yes. I have my beloved big thirsty! It's a 101 oz orange water bottle! I have 3 more like it in a yellow, a teal and a blue!

I'm a lifeguard I have a VAST collection if water bottles ✌️💧

24. What do you find yourself using? British English or American English?

I'm Canadian...in the spelling I think we share more with the British. But speech is more like American?

[pencilscratchins]

three wip pages drawn in september from that very silly mini comic that will probably take four years to complete lmao [id under the cut bc its very long]

PAGE ONE: panel 1: an overhead sketch of the blue, checkered dance floor from the wedding in the finale of LOK- couples are dancing, seeing pema and tenzin, korra and asami, bolin and opal, and mako and wu.

panel 2: Wu, in a fancy green velvet jacket, has his arms around Mako’s shoulders, who is dressed in a more simple formal grey suit and his right arm in a sling. Mako’s face is visible and he’s looking sweetly at the prince. dialogue:

Wu: See, I told you you don't need two hands to cut a rug.

Mako: I wouldn't say we're exactly cutting a rug right now.

panel 3: the pair is slightly turned, as if theyre spinning while dancing- wu now facing the camera as mako’s back faces it. Mako’s uninjured arm is around wu’s waist.  dialogue

Wu: See, that's where you'd be wrong. Have someone bring a rug over, put it under our feet, we will destroy it--

panel 4: Wu’s still facing the camera, but now on the other side, hand holding mako’s shoulder. mako’s face is tucked in wu’s neck. dialogue:

Mako: wu

Wu: I'm serious, you're horribly mistake-- we probably shouldn't ask Zhu Li, it is her wedding

panel 5: A longer panel, wu and mako smiling at each other face to face, both in profile. theyre lit by the moon light and lanterns peaking through the trees. Wu’s hand is on mako’s shoulder.

Mako: wu

Wu: what? I’m kidding. (mostly)

Mako: wu

panel 6: close up of wu’s face, as he says what?

panel 7: close up of mako’s face. he’s smiling coyly.

PAGE TWO: panel 1: Mako captures Wu’s lips in a passionate kiss. Wu looks surprised, his hand moved to the back of Mako’s neck. Theyre both blushing, the tops of their heads breaking into the white of the panel.

panel 2: a close up of Wu’s face, no longer kissing. he looks swept off his feet as he asks “mako?”

panel 3: a close up of mako-- he looks soft but determined. dialogue: 

Mako: Wu, I can't ignore this anymore. I have feelings for you-- I don't think I realized it until you told me you were gonna abdicate, but... Wu, you're my forever boy.

panel 4: Wu and Mako are in profile again, still in their dancing position. dialogue: 

Wu: Mako-!

Mako: And you have great hair.

panel 5: A close up of Wu, waving off the comment with his hand faking modesty. dialogue:

Wu: I... it's just good genes and coconut oil...

panel 6: a close up of mako’s face-- he still looks determined, but shaken a bit by nerves. dialogue:

Mako:  Please, Wu, I have to know... do you...

panel 7: a close up of wu, mako’s shoulder in shot. dialogue: 

Wu: Yes?

panel 8: Again, the boys are in profile, dancing-- but their position is intimate. Their lips are just barely apart, sharing the breathe before a kiss-- both their eyes are closed, ready to kiss again. dialogue:

Mako: Do you agree that putting funds into technical education will reap the most benefits for impoverished students?

panel 9: a long panel, mostly empty-- only wu is visable over mako’s silhouetted shoulder. wu looks confused, brows furrowed, saying “What?” in the background, the word “Wu?” fades into full opacity, until it forms a nearly fully rendered speech bubble that says “Wu?”

PAGE THREE: panel 1: Wu, now dressed in his princely outfit (green ascot, forest green jacket, yellow sash) looking like he just woke up from a day dream the panel around him looking like a popped bubble. he says: “huh?”

panel 2: president moon, korra, and asami are sitting at a curved, diplomatic table. they’re clearly in a meeting, mako’s uniformed torso barely visible in the background. moon looks like she’s waiting for a response; korra looks amused; and asami looks like she’s barely keeping back a smile, pointing at Wu. dialogue:

Asami: We were just finalizing everyone's thoughts on the lower ring rehabilitation? 

panel 3: Korra and Asami are shown in 3/4 view, Asami in the foreground and Korra, with her arms crossed dressed in her blue tank top. she looks throughly amused. dialogue:

Korra: Yeah, You were really ruminating on it.

panel 4: under the table, asami’s foot (dressed in a maroon, 1920′s style heel) kicks korra’s brown booted foot, the sound thop! emphasizes the movement.

panel 5: above the table again; asami looks at korra looking like “really? come on,”, korra is mid covering her smile with her right hand, still grinning, snorting and clearing her throat.

panel 6: Wu looks flustered, blushing as his shoulder go up shocked. dialogue:

Wu: Oh! Right! ... uh...

panel 7: Wu is gesturing wildly with both his hands, the corners of some other advisors at the table are on either sides of him. Wu looks unsure of himself. dialogue:

Wu: Oh! Right! Uh-- Ms. Sato, your plan was impeccably thought out. I-- couldn't think of a better one myself. Full support.

panel 8: a close up of president moon in her official uniform-- she looks pleasantly neutral. her speech bubble splits off in several ovals, extending past the next three panels. dialogue:

Moon: Good, then we're all in agreement. I believe that's all we had on the table today. Which is good, because I think my husband will go catatonic if we don't find something shiny for him to play with. I think we're ready to call it a day.

panel 9: Wu is shot from far away-- mako’s perspective. He looks unsure, nervous.

panel 10: a close up of mako’s face-- he’s dressed in his fancy uniform. he looks concerned.

panel 11: korra cracks her neck, hand against the back of her shoulder. she looks thrilled to be done with the meeting: dialogue:

Korra: agreed!

[elsewhereuniversity]

The fae didn’t really understand time as mortals did. The thing that lived under the glade certainly didn’t. It was vaguely aware that sometimes humans came and sometimes they left, and when they came that was a Fresh Man, and when they left that was a Graduation. It was less clear on the finer details, but what it boiled down to was an ever changing variety of prey to sniff out and play with. That was all most humans were to it; something to hunt for food or entertainment, whichever struck its fancy.

Most of the creatures it was acquainted with, then, would see it preparing for the party and assume it was hungry (or bored, as the case may be). They would be wrong. True, it wouldn’t turn down a snack, if it was convenient, but it had other plans for the night as well. Rosalind’s graduation party was supposed to be a small, intimate get-together for those who knew Rosalind best. It had decided that after three and a half years of surveillance, it was one of those who knew Rosalind best, and invitation or not, it deserved to be there.

So here it was, disguised as a handsome youth with dark hair and glittering brown eyes, walking towards the clearing in the forest as if it possessed one of the few invitations Rosalind had seen fit to send out. Someone stopped it just as the lights came into view.

“Sorry, I need to see your invitation-” the girl began, hand already on a poker thrust through a belt. The creature turned its gaze to her, giving its best imitation of a friendly smile. It probably looked grotesque, but the glamor did its work, and the girl withdrew her hand, looking slightly dazed. “Oh- never mind…” she trailed off, as if expecting a name. It would need one of those, it supposed.

“Windcutter,” it said, gracing the girl with another smile. She blushed, waving it through. It was that easy. It was always that easy. It frowned for a second. Was something strange? It dismissed that thought nearly immediately. It was just imagining things, distracting itself from the reason it was here.

The newly christened Windcutter swept its gaze around the party. There were little lights in glass bubbles- faerie lights, he remembered dimly from some conversation. The mood lighting was entirely lost on something with perfect night vision, but it highlighted Rosalind’s face as she hopped down from a tree, brushing off her clothes. Unconsciously, Windcutter’s hand went to its shoulder as phantom pain tingled down the equivalent of its arm.

It was supposed to be easy. The mortals’ minds did most of the work for it; once they hit the glamor, they would fabricate details to cover up any of the little holes. The trick, it had learned, was to add some mild imperfections- these days, the students were wary of anyone too pretty. It had worked for- well, for however long it had been before Rosalind came along.

She was Gar then, one of the Fresh Men, and her roommate had been Koi. Oddly, it barely remembered what Koi smelled like, just that when it saw her at a party, it had deigned it the superior of the two. It had been simple to flirt with her, throw up enough charm that anything it said would attract it, that no warning bells had gone off.

And when Gar had left the party, gone into the back alley, and found it with what remained of Koi, it had been child’s play to send a wave of glamor at her so strong that it wouldn’t have been surprised if Gar had let it consume her as well. It was, understandably, a little surprised when Gar pulled a solid-iron knife and stabbed it. The surprise was nothing compared with the pain, though, and it had… well. It was embarrassing, but it had run, crawling under the glade to metaphorically lick its wounds. It had been mildly perturbed to find that even after it healed, any form it took had a little silver line of scar on the shoulder.

That was how the story ended, somehow. Gar had turned to the knights, and then turned herself to a knight. Somewhere along the way she became Rosalind, and all along the way the creature watched the mortal being that had wounded it for the only time in its long, long life. Its feelings were somewhere between fear and fascination- it had never bothered to follow up on any mortal before, but it had watched as Rosalind declared her major (in “biology”, but everyone knew she was Forbidden Major), had chartered a truce between some of the forbidden majors and the courts, had disappeared for three weeks and reappeared looking haggard but none the worse for wear. This was its last chance to see her up close, so for tonight, it was not hunting. It was… mingling.

It approached one of the party guests milling around. The boy smiled at it as it lightly prodded its influence to surround him.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter supplied.

“Right, Windcutter, from…”

“School." 

"Windcutter from school,” he said, blinking and nodding. “I remember, yeah. How are you?”

This close, Windcutter could see the freckles on his face, smell the sweat on him, and it had to remind itself that it was there to see Rosalind, not to hunt. The boy was still smiling, it realized, waiting for it to answer as it stared hungrily at him.

“I am well,” it said, a truthful answer. “And you?”

“Looking forward to the rest of the night,” he said, leaning conspiratorially towards Windcutter. “I think you’ll really enjoy it.”

“Bond,” said a clear voice that Windcutter had listened to for three years, “are you monopolizing…”

“Windcutter,” Windcutter said again, turning the full force of its smile to Rosalind. Once again, it had the nagging feeling that something was off, and it had to resist the urge to scratch its shoulder.

“Are you monopolizing Windcutter?” Rosalind finished.

“Not if you want to talk to them,” Bond said. He flashed another charming smile at Windcutter, who made a mental note to see if he could be lured into the woods. “I’ll just go take care of other business, shall I?”

“Sure,” Rosalind said, rolling her eyes. “And make sure that the guards are on alert!” she yelled after his retreating form.

“Guards?” Windcutter said, tilting its head coquettishly to one side. It was just as well that it had glamor to cover for it- it could never remember how far humans were supposed to be able to do that. “Is something the matter?”

“Well, friend,” Rosalind said, then squinted quizzically at it. “Did I never tell you about this?”

“I believe not.”

“Huh.” She looked down. “Well, my friend, this may sound crazy, but I believe that something has been watching me for the past few years.”

“Watching you?” It could have laughed.

“It sounds farfetched, yes, but… I can feel its eyes on me, sometimes. I think I know what it is, too.”

“Do tell,” it purred.

“Do you remember my roommate?”

“Koi, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Rosalind looked away. “Koi. Well, something took her freshman year.”

“How terrible.” It couldn’t decide if it was relieved or disappointed; relieved it was in no danger, disappointed that Rosalind was so far below its estimation.

“I found her,” Rosalind said. “And that thing standing over her. It tried to make me… I don’t really know. Forget, or stop caring, but I was so angry that it just washed over me, and I stabbed it, and it ran.”

“How brave of you.” The creature shifted in place slightly. Something was definitely strange here. It felt… it didn’t know. Something.

“I didn’t really have much choice,” Rosalind said with a laugh. She drew a sword, idly flipping it in her hand. “It was instinct. I think if it was anything else, I wouldn’t be here today. Whatever it did- did you know, somehow it had managed to make her take off her iron and salt?”

The creature knew, of course it did, it-

Wait.

Rosalind was no fool. She couldn’t be, in order to have lived this long as a knight or a Forbidden Major. Protection was basic enough that even the newest and most naive knew to have it, to demand to see it.

And it had gotten this far without any protection at all. No lines of salt, no running water, nothing. The fact they hadn’t touched it with iron or salt could be put down to its power, but not the basic, rudimentary safety procedures for an outdoor party.

Alarm bells started ringing in Windcutter’s head. Who held a party outside, in the woods, in the dark?

“We were close, did you know that?” Rosalind continued. She still wasn’t looking at it. “She even told me her true name. Trusting to a fault." 

"I… should go,” Windcutter said. It had ignored its instincts for too long. Something was wrong.

“It was Rosalind,” Rosalind said. “I never forgot.” And then, finally, she met its eyes.

Windcutter jerked back, a hiss of revulsion bubbling from its throat. It was not Rosalind’s eyes in her face: they glittered as if cut from gems, and, worse, it knew somehow that she could see it, really, see it. It felt suddenly like a butterfly pinned to paper, trying to squirm away from that horrible perception. It turned, still hissing, to see Bond returning, armed with a spear. He wasn’t smiling anymore, and now that it was looking, it realized that his eyes glittered similarly. All of the partygoers eyes did, they- they could all see it- 

“A little deal with the Spring Queen,” Rosalind said conversationally behind it. “Three weeks of my time to serve her, and for every day, an hour of Sight and a clear mind for someone at my little soiree.”

It bolted then, half-mad with the eyes of the party boring into it. It sprinted into the woods, then screamed as it hit the salt line, scrambling back on burning feet. Of course there was a salt line now. They had lured it in.

“Tell me,” Rosalind said as it whirled. She was on guard now, sword out and willing. “Why did you watch me?”

“Never been hurt before,” it said, the truth being dragged out almost against its will. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was supposed to be above its prey.

“Really.”

“You’re leaving soon,” it said. Offering a deal was something it hadn’t done before, but it needed a way out, and Rosalind’s speech had given it an idea. “Let me out and I can promise you you’ll forget what happened to her. You can let go of the anger.”

“Who told you I was leaving?” Rosalind smiled, all teeth and no friendliness. “My classes are over, but I’m staying. Someone has to make sure beasts like you don’t hunt for too long.”

The creature hadn’t ever really had to fight; nobody had armed themselves against it, after all. Its claws slid out almost involuntarily as the fear and rage flowed through it, rendering it incapable of human speech. It hissed again defiantly.

“That’s right,” Rosalind said, her voice almost hypnotically soothing. “It’s you or me. One of us leaves tonight, the other one stays here forever.” Without moving her eyes from the creature, she jerked her head over her shoulder. “The salt line has a break in it behind me. Get through me, and you can leave.”

Frightened, cornered, the creature growled deep in its throat and unthinkingly sprang.

-bean

[kanerallels]

"There is no unspoken thing between us."

"Well, that's a Catch-22. Because if you said there was, it would be spoken, and then you'd be a liar. So by saying there isn't, you're telling the truth, and admitting there is."

Marvel quote—and you know which couple this is for 😉

Oh, you KNOW I do!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: 3,559

Warnings/Tags: Rated G (for the fetching green vest Kanan's wearing)

Read on AO3!

Having deep cover operatives in the Empire was an important part of running a spy network. They gave Kanan some of his best information and helped him sneak the objects of the Empire’s rage right out from under the ISB’s nose more often than not.

But it could be a little inconvenient when he needed to pick up data from them. Because it almost inevitably involved him getting into some kind of ridiculous disguise and sneaking into some place the Empire didn’t want him in.

Case in point, he thought wryly, smoothing down the front of the fancy vest he was wearing over his dress shirt. “How do I look?” he asked, his voice quiet enough that none of the guests around him could hear.

“Ridiculous as always,” Kasmir’s voice came from the earpiece he wore, and Kanan rolled his eyes. The rest of the Yellow Submarine’s crew had demanded that he wear it, partially because they were bored and partially because Kasmir claimed Kanan had a habit of not giving them proper updates about what was going on. So they’d hacked the security cameras, and Kanan was set up with an earpiece. “Otherwise you’re fine. Remind me what your plan is again?”

Claiming a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter, Kanan muttered, “Blend in while I wait for our contact to drop off the intel at the dead drop, then go there as soon as I get the signal. After that I get the kriff out of here as soon as possible.”

As he took a drink of the bubbly drink, Ezra said, “Sounds boring. Actually, this whole party looks boring. Just a bunch of grown ups in fancy clothing drinking alcohol and sucking up to each other.”

“Welcome to adult parties for the rich and tyrannical,” Kasmir told him, and Kanan had to stifle a grin. “They all suck.”

Unfortunately, Kanan couldn’t disagree. The Empire’s parties mainly consisted of flaunting their fabulousness to everyone else, but really just came off as self-absorbed. Luckily for him, this particular party had been incredibly easy to sneak into.

Taking another sip from the champagne glass, Kanan swept a glance around the room again-- and spotted his contact. The light-haired man, clad in a dark dress uniform, swept out of a door, his steps brisk and business-like as he passed by. He didn't give Kanan a backwards glance, but Kanan could tell he knew he was there.

“Alright, I'm on the move,” he said softly.

“About time,” Kasmir complained. “This is incredibly boring.”

Stepping through the doorway his contact had come out of, Kanan pointed out, “You're the ones who wanted to listen in.”

“Yeah, but I prefer blaming you,” the Kalleran said as Kanan moved into the room. It was some kind of sitting room, with a few armchairs here and there, and a small table in one corner.

Tuning out Kasmir, who was continuing to grumble, Kanan began searching the room. The table turned up nothing, so he moved to one of the armchairs. Dropping into it, he slid his hands down the side and into the cracks. A grin spread across his face as one hand encountered a slim rectangular shape. Bingo.

Pulling the datacard out, Kanan slipped it into the pocket of his vest. Cutting off Kasmir, he said, “I've got the intel. On my way out.”

He slipped out of the sitting room again, and a quick glance around the room made it clear that he’d been neither missed nor spotted. Time to get out of here, he thought.

Making a beeline for the door, Kanan paused to swipe a mini jogan cream cake from a waiter. He popped it in his mouth-- and nearly choked at the sound of a familiar laugh. A far too familiar laugh.

Spinning around, Kanan searched the crowd behind him. No way. No kriffing way. But even as he thought it, his gaze landed on where a handful of people were dancing to the elegant music in the background. And his eyes were drawn to a green-skinned Twi’lek woman, dancing with an Imperial officer and wearing a smile he knew had to be fake.

Some kind of makeup obscured the markings on Hera’s lekku, and she was a ways away from Kanan, but he’d recognize her anywhere. Especially that voice, which he could hear speaking in her native Ryl accent even from that distance. Who knew she had an accent? He mused.

“KANAN!!”

Kanan nearly jumped when he heard Kasmir shout his name in his earpiece. “Kriffing-- don’t do that,” he hissed, turning away from the crowd so no one would see him moving his lips.

“What are you hesitating for? It’s time to get out of there,” Kasmir urged. “We’re not even supposed to be here, ya know.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kanan said. “I just, uh, might not be back right away.”

“What? Why not-- oooh. Mini kid, check the cams.”

“On it!” Ezra chirped in the background.

Ignoring them, Kanan turned back to the crowd, scanning until he spotted Hera again, still dancing with the same Imp, her movements graceful. What is she doing here? If someone spots her-- okay, calm down, Kanan. She can take care of herself, and you’re not technically responsible for watching her back.

No matter how much you wished you were, whispered some part of him, the part of him that occasionally told him to please forget all of the spy stuff and talk to Hera.

In his ear, there was a gasp. “I KNEW IT. Hera’s here, guys!!!” Ezra���s voice was unreasonably excited as he spoke. “What is she doing here? Kanan, does she know you’re here? Are you gonna talk to her? What do you think she’ll--”

“Kasmir,” Kanan said, cutting off his apprentice, “I’m going off coms. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You’re doing WHAT? Wait, kid, don’t you dare--”

Kasmir's voice was abruptly cut off as Kanan plucked his earpiece out and stuck it in his pocket. He had no doubt he'd be getting a good chewing out over this later from Kasmir. But Kanan also had a feeling it would be worth it.

He headed toward the dancers, weaving through the crowd and keeping his gaze locked on Hera. As he drew closer, he felt his heartbeat pick up slightly.

Hera was always beautiful, there was no denying that. When Kanan had first met her, he'd been literally incapable of speech standing across from her. And he had a feeling he was going to have a very similar problem now.

She wore a dark red dress, the short sleeves made of a dark gauzy fabric. Silver lace patterns covered the whole thing, shimmering in the light with Hera's every movement. It was mesmerizing.

Kanan suddenly realized he was staring. Kriff. Alright, try and focus, Jarrus.

Slipping past a few more guests, he stepped out of the crowd and onto the dance floor just as Hera and her partner moved up near him. “May I cut in?” he asked.

The Imperial officer dancing with Hera looked like he wanted to argue, but one glance at Kanan changed his mind quickly. He stepped back, and Kanan moved forward smoothly, sweeping Hera back into the dance.

Hera’s gaze flicked up to him, a demure smile crossing her face-- and Kanan saw the moment when she realized it was him and not some Imperial. “Wha-- Kanan?”

~ ~ ~

As Hera gaped at him in shock, she saw a grin crossing Kanan’s face. “I’d bet this is the last place you expected to see me,” he said, his deep voice low and remarkably self satisfied.

“You could say that,” Hera agreed, recovering quickly.

It hadn’t been too difficult to slip into the party. All Hera had had to do was bat her eyelashes a few times and the Imps were basically falling over themselves to let her in. While it was useful, it did also get on her nerves a little, even if she was used to the way most people looked at her species these days.

Kanan, on the other hand, didn’t exactly have the same qualifications. Frowning, she asked, “How did you get in here?”

“Does it matter?” Kanan kept his voice low as they kept dancing, and Hera had to admit-- he was a good dancer, better than she would have expected.

He was also dressed better than she would have expected-- a crisp olive green dress shirt, the sleeves pushed up, under an emerald green vest with a high collar, trousers of the same olive green, and brown boots. His hair was back in it’s usual ponytail, and he wore a slight grin.

He looked good-- which Hera would never give him the satisfaction of admitting. She would only admit to herself how her heartbeat sped up slightly at his proximity, at the feeling of his hand resting on her waist.

Taking a quick breath, she said, “Probably not. Although I do wonder what you’re doing here, I have to admit.”

“Free hors d’oeuvres,” Kanan said breezily. “Nothing tastes better than expensive Imperial wine, especially when you’re not supposed to drink it. How about you? I have a feeling you’re not here for the canapes, or whatever they’re serving.”

“Not exactly,” Hera said. “But I’m not sure talking to you about it is the best idea. After all, you’ve made it very clear you’re not interested.”

“Really? That’s what you think? I thought you knew that wasn’t true at all.”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “In the cause.”

“Oh, that.” Kanan made a face. “I liked what I was talking about better.”

“I’m sure you did.”

A slight smile curved Kanan’s mouth, and he studied her for a few seconds as they danced. “When are we going to do something about this unspoken thing we have going on?”

“What?” Hera blinked, surprised that he’d actually said something. “No-- there’s no unspoken thing between us.”

Shrugging, Kanan deftly spun her out as he said, “Well, that’s a Catch-22, because if you said there was, it would be spoken and you’d be a liar. So by saying there isn’t--” he pulled her back in, this time closer than she had been. Hera felt her heartbeat pick up again at the sheer closeness of him.

“--you’re telling the truth and admitting there is,” Kanan finished. His gaze caught hers, and he studied her for a moment with those teal eyes of his. Hera saw his eyes drop to her lips, and caught her breath, wondering for a moment what he would do, and how she would react to it.

Focus, Hera, she told herself sternly. You need to finish up here and get back to the crew. Clearing her throat, she said, “I don’t really have time for your flirting, dear. I have a mission to finish, sooner rather than later.”

“What’s your rush?” Kanan asked lightly.

“Well, let’s just say I have a new crew member, and I’d prefer to get back before she destroys the ship,” Hera said wryly. “She’s a little… temperamental.”

“Sounds like fun,” Kanan said. “Alright, how can I help?”

Giving Kanan an unimpressed look, Hera said, “We just had this conversation. You don’t want anything to do with the cause.”

“You know me so well,” Kanan said, smirking. “But I’m not doing this for the cause. Trust me.”

The pointed intonation at the end of his sentence didn’t really surprise Hera. However, that wasn’t exactly about to change her answer. “That’s not terribly reassuring,” she said.

“Hey, you know I’m capable,” Kanan pointed out. “And you don’t have to trust me here. But I’m willing to help.

“Alright-- what are you asking in return?” Hera asked.

To her surprise, a stung look flashed across Kanan’s face. “Nothing. I’m not always looking for some kind of payout, you know.”

Kriff. Hera grimaced, well aware she’d put her foot in her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said, coming to a stop on the dance floor and making sure she had Kanan’s attention. “That was stupid of me. You’re right, and I should have seen it. I know you better than that.”

And she did, strange though it seemed.

“Thanks,” Kanan said quietly, his voice serious for once. He paused, then said, “Now where are we going?”

Hera paused, darting a glance around the room. Luckily, the owner of the house was distracted at the bar. “This way,” she told him, grabbing him by the hand. She pulled him off the dance floor and through the crowd, heading for a door on the far side of the room. Kanan followed her willingly, and together they slipped through the door in question.

The door led them into a dark hallway, and Hera led the way forward, Kanan on her heels. “Let’s hope we don’t run into any other party-goers,” she muttered. “This could be a potential awkward situation.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hear public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable,” Kanan suggested, and Hera let out a sigh.

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not unless I have to. What’s the plan here?”

“I’m trying to break into the main office,” Hera told him. “It should be a little ways away from here. All you need to do is watch my back. Oh, and come up with a good excuse if we’re caught.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Kanan said easily. “Just lead the way, Captain Hera.”

They didn’t have far to go before they reached the door Hera had been looking for, and stepped inside. The office was large and elaborate, with wood panelling and an extremely expensive vase on the desk.

Moving behind the desk, Hera booted up the console and pulled up her skirt to reveal the holster strapped to her leg, holding her blaster and a datacard to download the intel she needed. Pulling out the datacard, she glanced at Kanan, fully expecting him to be watching her.

To her surprise, he had his gaze fixed on the door, and was rather steadfastly not looking at her. Maybe he’s got a bit of chivalry left after all, Hera mused. Who would have thought?

She let her skirt drop and inserted the datacard into the console, tapping at the screen to find the information she needed. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes,” she told Kanan.

Glancing back at Hera, Kanan said, “Well, that’s good. This way, we might have time for something else. Maybe a little more dancing, that kind of thing.”

“What part of ‘I need to get back to my ship before a teenage Mandalorian tears it to pieces’ did you not understand?” Hera shot back.

“Oh, come on,” Kanan said with a sigh. “Seriously, though-- when was the last time you did anything for yourself instead of your cause? You deserve a night off.”

“And it just happens to be with you?” Hera said, feeling a smile twitch across her lips in spite of herself.

Kanan shrugged nonchalantly, a gleam in his eye. “It’s an added bonus.”

“Hmm.” For a moment, Hera let herself think about what it would be like to just spend the rest of the night out. Dancing, food, maybe a little flirting. It sounded fun. Like something she might have done in a different world, if she hadn’t been fighting the Empire, and she’d met Kanan under different circumstances. “That sounds… nice. Fun, even.”

“Can’t let the Empire stop you from having fun,” Kanan pointed out, leaning against the desk as he caught her gaze. “I’ll buy you a drink. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself--”

Then Hera saw him freeze, his eyes going wide. “What is--” she started, and the door hissed open.

“Wha-- what are you doing in here?” demanded a brusque Imperial voice, and the owner of the house stalked into view. Hera saw a “well, kriff” expression flash across Kanan’s face.

“Wait-- are you--” the owner started. Moving fast, Kanan grabbed the vase on the desk, spun around and smashed it over the man’s head.

As the Imp crumpled to the ground, Kanan turned to Hera. “Time to go,” he said.

“Definitely,” Hera said as the console let out a beep. “I have what I need anyways.” Pulling out the datacard, she slipped it back into her holster, and she and Kanan made for the door.

They hadn’t gotten far before an alarm started going off. “Looks like we’ve been spotted,” Kanan muttered, his brows furrowing.

“Do you have a ride out of here?” Hera asked.

“Yeah-- follow me.”

Kanan headed back the way they’d come, pushing open the door that lead into the room where the party was being held. Hera hesitated for a second, then darted after him as he shouldered his way through the somewhat confused crowd.

They’d made it halfway through the crowd when the doors burst open, and an irate voice shouted, “STOP THAT TWI’LEK!!”

Hera heard Kanan breathe a curse quietly as she pulled her blaster out from under her dress. “Keep things stealthy until we don’t have to,” she muttered.

“Yeah, that’s going really well so far,” he hissed.

“You’re the one who smashed a vase over someone’s head!”

“Well, you shot down my other idea!”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Hera said, “So help me, you’re going to drive me--”

She was cut off by a hand clamping down onto her shoulder. “Here she is!” someone shouted. “I’ve caught the intrud-- ugh!”

Hera spun smoothly, twisting away from the man who’d grabbed her, and slammed her fist into his throat. As the man dropped to the ground, clutching at his throat, Kanan grabbed her by the hand and pulled her forward. “Remind me never to make you that mad,” he said.

“You’ve come very close, dear,” Hera shot back.

“Have I mentioned you look amazing tonight?”

“You’re not helping your situation. Wait-- are we heading for the window?”

“You’re about to find out how I got into this place,” Kanan said, a grim smile crossing his face.

Releasing Hera’s hand, he didn’t stop in his tracks as he grabbed a bar stool and heaved it through the window, shattering the glass. Shards of it flew everywhere, and Hera heard screams as Kanan came to a stop next to the window.

“Come on!” he said, holding out his hand.

Hera darted forward, glancing down as Kanan’s hand wrapped around hers. A speeder was parked a few feet below them. “Creative,” she observed.

“I’m a creative guy,” Kanan quipped, then ducked as blaster fire zipped past them. Lifting her own blaster, Hera shot back at the stormtroopers who were flooding into the room. “Time to go!” Kanan said, and jumped, Hera leaping after him.

They landed in the speeder in an undignified pile, and Kanan immediately scrambled into the passenger’s seat. “Get us out of here!”

“On it,” Hera said, switching on the speeder and tossing Kanan her blaster. “Make yourself useful, please!”

“Yes, Captain Hera,” Kanan said, lifting his blaster and firing at the stormtroopers that were crowding into the window. Hera let out a triumphant sound as the engines roared to life.

“We’re out of here.” Slamming on the acceleration, they leaped forward. Kanan let out an undignified yelp, and Hera suppressed a smile as they zipped away from the building and into traffic.

It didn’t take them long to disappear, out of sight from the Imperials. Leaning back in his seat, Kanan remarked, “It’s been way too long since I’ve flown with you. You’re still as incredible as you used to be.”

Hera felt a small smile flash across her face. Kanan’s real compliments were somehow much nicer than his casual flirting. “Thanks. Now, where are we heading?”

“You can drop me off up here,” Kanan said, pointing. “It’s not technically my speeder, so you can take it wherever you need to go.” Pausing, he added, “Or we could find something to eat. Have a drink, maybe…”

Hera found herself hesitating, to her own surprise. Because part of her wanted to say yes, which she definitely didn’t expect. Maybe some of that flirting was actually starting to rub off on her.

But at the end of the day, she was working with the Rebellion, and Kanan refused to commit to something like that. And she really did have to get back. “Not this time,” she said, bringing them to a stop at the roadside. “I have work to do. Thank you, though, for your help with this.”

“Any time,” Kanan said, giving her a half-smile. “Until next time, Captain Hera.” Catching hold of her hand, he bent down and pressed a gentle kiss against the back of it.

Hera’s eyes widened, a slight flush spreading over her at the unexpected gesture, and Kanan shot her a wink. “Couldn’t let you leave without a souvenir, could I?” He vaulted over the side of the speeder and headed down the street, looking supremely satisfied.

Despite herself, Hera felt a smile crossing her face. Typical Kanan. Gunning the engines, she took off down the street, heading back to the Ghost and her next mission. Trying to pretend like a certain gunslinger wasn’t still in the back of her mind.

She had a feeling that wouldn’t work very well, though. Kanan never made things like that easy. But Hera was starting to wonder if she actually minded.

[techno-woman]

WELCOME TO THE FRIEZA FORCE, MY DEAR

(FRIEZA X READER)

::The following story takes place after DragonBall Fighterz villains arc. I do not own any DBZ characters. Enjoy the story!::

It has been over a month since you had returned to your own body after Frieza kicked you out despite you accepting his offer to join him. Honestly you didn’t have much to keep you here on earth anyway since bad luck had a habit of shooting down your spirits. It all started when you had graduated from high school; your dad suffered from a stroke and eventually succumbed to it within two months, your brother was killed in a car crash with your mother two years later, and just recently you had broken up with your boyfriend whom you’ve been dating for four years after finding out that he was cheating on you with another woman. You’ve at least managed to keep your job at a fast food restaurant thanks to your hard working attitude,however; your heart has been closed off since the breakup and you were tired of all the misery in your life so far that it wouldn’t have even mattered if you ended up robbed, murdered or worse.

Then one day you found yourself linked up with Frieza. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how much of an evil prick he was after the way he spoke to you for the first time. He was obviously not a happy camper when he noticed you were controlling his body and not him. Although you couldn’t necessarily blame him since body snatching wasn’t your cup of tea either. Frieza had openly expressed his disgust towards you many times and while his attitude may have annoyed you to no end you somehow oddly find some comfort in it. Perhaps it was because you too had days where you just had to let out your frustrations though it was all in private. You’ve powered through mentally with Frieza because the sting of your ex’s betrayal was still fresh. But working with the tyrant hasn’t been so terrible not when you had experienced his amazing power which would’ve been found in a comic book or a superhero movie. You felt invincible, untouchable almost like a god and you loved it especially the flying part.

The link you had with Frieza had become more stronger with each battle and along the way you encountered Nappa, Captain Ginyu and the Ginyu force, Cell, Goku, Vegeta, Krillin,and the rest of the z fighters. Through them you experienced each of their own unique powers and got along with most of them. Even Frieza was showing subtle signs of him warming up to you which you were grateful for. But deep down you couldn’t help but develop some attachments to the emperor of the universe himself. You weren’t sure if he had felt the same way as you when he had offered you a position in his army after you both took out Android 21 and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t make a good soldier since part of Frieza’s requirements to joining the Frieza force included strength which you weren’t confident about despite how well you were doing with the link. But of course if it meant that you could start your life anew and leave your misfortune behind then you’d gladly take it. Then afterwards Frieza had warmly welcomed you to join his forces when Android 21 was taken down at last. You smiled at the thought of being in space looking at the stars and planets while riding in a spaceship boldly going where no human has ever gone before. Suddenly Frieza, Cell, Ginyu and Nappa immediately began charging up when their powers had returned to them, getting ready to attack Goku and the gang and before you knew it Frieza chased you out of his body so he could fight Goku without you holding him back. Devastated and heartbroken at the tyrant’s actions you took to the skies leaving Frieza to exact his revenge on his sayian nemesis.

That was the last time you saw him and you never got to tell him how you felt about him. You shook your head as you headed into work wiping away your tears deciding that you were better off without him anyway. You didn’t have much to offer to a guy like that except for your loyalty and love which you doubted that he would be capable of. Two hours in and the events of last month had already been pushed to the back of your mind as you worked hard cleaning dishes, prepping up food, and sweeping up the floor. The lights flickered faintly above and you thought to yourself that the light bulbs must be starting to give out. You were wiping down the tables when a random guy came up to you in an attempt to flirt with you but you ignored him completely.

“What time do you get off, cutie?” The man asked you.

“Sorry sir but I cannot indulge such information to someone I do not know.” You said with a customer friendly tone which surprised you internally to hear such words coming from your own mouth. Apparently you picked up some of Frieza’s elegant speech pattern while you were linked with him.

The man looked surprised in a happy way. “Fancy way of talking, eh? Then how about you let me take you somewhere fancy to eat after you get off?”

“No thank you.” You said as you started to get irritated with him. The lights above you started to flicker.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I can treat you real nice.” The guy insisted.

“Please sir, I have work to do and I am not interested. Have a nice day.” You told him as you kept your tone friendly while your temper was rising. The lights flickered faster causing several of the staff and customers to look in confusion.

“C’mon don’t tell me that a pretty face like you already has a boyfriend?” Inquired the guy.

Now it was starting to get too personal for your liking as the memories of your ex flowed into your mind like a stream of water. Anger was bubbling up as the flickering lights intensified causing everyone to become concerned and even scared. “That is no concern of yours. Now please leave me alone and have a nice day.” You clenched your teeth as you managed to say in a sweet tone while keeping a grip on your temper. You were getting ready to head back into the kitchen when you felt a hand grab your arm and pulled you back.

“What’s the matter, bitch?” The guy hissed. “You think you’re too good to have a good time with guys like me?” He smelled like he hasn’t bathed in a week and his grip on you grew tighter.

Your coworkers and a few customers saw this and attempted to get him to let you go. But the guy insisted that he was your boyfriend and that it was no one’s business.

“SHUT UP JACKASS! YOU’RE NO ONE TO ME!” You yelled angrily at him and at that same time the lights that were flickering above you exploded. Everyone in the store screamed and covered their heads as glass fell upon them. A fire broke out causing several staff members to grab fire extinguishers and put out the fire.

The customers ran out screaming in panic as you were also running out of the store. You didn’t know what was going on but you did know that this had never happened in the restaurant before. So why now? Sounds of police sirens were drawing close as was the firefighters and you just hoped that no one got hurt. Suddenly you felt arms grabbing you by the waist and you were then carried off by someone.

“Hey! Let me go!” You exclaimed. “Put me down! What do you think you’re doing!”

“It’s just us, human!” Said a familiar gruff yet friendly voice.

You turned to see none other than Captain Ginyu of the Ginyu force. “Ginyu!” You cried as you instantly gave him a hug.

“Don’t forget about us, sheila!” Jeice said happily.

“Hey Jeice, Burter, Recoome, Guldo! It’s great to see you guys again!” You grinned as you saw the rest of the Ginyu force. “But how did you know where to find me?”

Ginyu pointed to the scouter on his face. “We detected your ki with these and by the looks of it your ki skyrocketed to another level!”

You looked at him confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Didn’t you see what had just happened at the restaurant?” Burter asked pointing back to where your job was.

You felt your heart sink as you came to realize what they were talking about. “I did that?”

“You sure did!” Recoome said with a smile.

“But that’s never happened before. I don’t understand why it would happen now.” You said still trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

Ginyu looks at you with a sympathetic expression on his face. “Perhaps it’s because you were linked with Lord Frieza and that his ki has awakened yours.”

You looked up in surprise. “Really?”

“That’s the only explanation that I can think of. But let’s get you to Lord Frieza first.” Ginyu said taking off into the sky with the others.

“So Frieza wants to see me now after he booted me out?” You said in a sarcastic tone.

“My apologies, huma-“

“It’s Y/n.” You interrupted Ginyu.

“Y/n. Please forgive Lord Frieza. He has been humiliated twice by Goku and needed to get his revenge for it.” Ginyu said.

You huffed. “Did he succeeded?”

“All I can say is that it ended in a stalemate.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes.

“I don’t mean to speak out sir but is no one going to say anything about y/n here being a woman?” Guldo asked.

“Is there something wrong with that?” You asked with a small smile.

“No. Not at all. Just surprised is all.” Guldo said.

Minutes later aboard Frieza’s ship....

Frieza stood by the window as you entered with the Ginyu force leading ahead.

“Lord Frieza, we’ve brought the human with us.” Ginyu said as he bowed.

“Excellent work, Captain Ginyu.” Frieza said in a happy tone while turning slowly to face you. “It has been awhile my dear. You look so much lovelier in person.” He smiles his usual smile that you had come to recognize as his causal expression.

“You don’t seem surprised that I am a girl.” You said observering him and then noticed his tail wiggling about almost like Frieza was glad to see you in the flesh.

“I had Nappa keep a close eye on you afterwards since Saiyans can be easily passed off as humans when their tails are well hidden that is.” Frieza said as he approached you.

“Well no wonder why Nappa has been absent lately.” Guldo mumbled.

You turned your head to glare at Ginyu and the others. “Scouter my ass. You already knew where I was at, didn’t you?”

“Easy Y/n, we weren’t lying about the scouters picking up your ki level. Besides even with Nappa we aren’t familiar with the city you were living in.” Ginyu said.

Frieza cleared his throat getting your attention back onto him who was directly standing in front of you face to face. “As I was saying; I had ordered Nappa to watch over you after the Android 21 incident. When you left I sensed a slight change in your ki and made a mental note to look into it after I delt with that damned Saiyan Goku.”

“I was told that it was a stalemate.” You said.

Frieza grimaced. “It would not have been such a stalemate if Cell hadn’t tried to steal my glory for the last time.” His tail curled up much like how a fist would ball up in anger.

“Did you....kill him?” You asked.

“No, of course not. Goku’s eldest son already did him in with Maijin Buu.” Frieza said. “But enough of that. I believe we have much to discuss about your future here on the Frieza force.”

“Thanks but there’s a concern that I’d like to address with you. Namely my sudden ki rising. Captain Ginyu said that it was the result of our souls being linked together. Is it true?” You asked.

Frieza watched you before motioning for Ginyu and the others to leave the room. They did so without hesitation and now it was just you and him alone. “Indeed it is as you were told. The slight increase of your ki didn’t happen when you and I first met but after destroying Android 21 was when it changed. I have surmised that while you were linked with me your ki was being amplified by mine thus causing it to grow with each battle we’ve faced. Though it is not as strong as mine it’ll at least give you a bit of an edge to defend yourself with.”

“How long do you think it’ll last?” You asked.

Frieza closed his eyes and sighed in annoyance. “Don’t you understand what this means exactly? I’m saying this is permanent. That this newly awakened ki is what you’ll be living with from now on.”

You were dumbfounded at this. You now had powers of your own and yet you were unsure about how to handle it. Or if you could handle it. “Oh boy.” You covered your face with your hands as you rubbed your eyes with them. “This is a lot to take in.”

“For you I have no doubt that it is.” Frieza said flicking his tail casually. “Fortunately you will have plenty of time getting use to it in my army.”

“I probably might but there’s also the issue of controlling it. Before the Ginyu force picked me up I was getting upset with this one guy trying to make a pass at me and when I lost my temper the lights exploded above us.” You told him.

Frieza hummed with curiosity. “Certain emotions often trigger such power like yours. Perhaps that will be something we can work on together.” His tail then slowly wraps around your waist as he pulls your body into his. “I’m sure that you will find it most enjoyable.”

You blushed at how close you were to him and even more so when his tail pulsed. “Frieza? Just to be honest with you, I’m still upset with you for kicking me out.”

“I had a score to settle with Goku. You of all people should understand that. Especially with the amount of time that we’ve spent together sharing the same body.” Frieza said in a stern tone as he took your chin into his hand. “It’s Y/n, yes?”

You nodded.

Frieza smiled his mischievous and cruel smile. “Welcome to the Frieza force, my dear y/n.”

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 5 | " ILLICIT AFFAIRS "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 1.8k

taglist: @serendipitysung @angeljungwon @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @fluffi @gyeraniee @stxrryemxlys

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

“The morning sun has come, and the evening moon is gone. Dearlings, I am elated to apprise you of the events at the debutantes’ ball that occurred as of late, and must I warn you, they're not for the feeble spirits!

The ton is abuzz with the most beefy tale as Northumberland’s jewel among the lovely rocks, Miss Y//n Park, has earned herself a ticket to glory! She danced with the most favored noblemen in the ton and surely, she went home with a hearty grace as she'll most likely expect an abundant roster of suitors in the following days.

Not only was she offered a dance by our dear second-born, Lord Yang, but she also had the privilege and pleasure to be twirled around the court by the most charming, Lord Lee, and the ever coveted nobleman among the ton, Lord Park, the next-in-line Duke of Northumberland!

Where's the beef you might ask? Well, it seems to me that these men are blindfoldedly playing fire with each other.

Not only does Lord Lee has women wrapped easily around his fingers, he has men too! With a sly steal of Miss Y/n’s hand from Lord Yang last night, he certainly left the chap earnestly plotting for a segue of intrusion- and Lord Yang intriguingly delivered!

With the timing in its most opportune, Lord Yang managed to finally dance with the young miss, in private! Ooh! This is new! My senses told me they spent their waltz in the Queen’s library, alone! How in the world did they let this happen to the ton’s jewel unchaperoned? That is something the Daily Tattle is unfortunately unable to unearth, but the mystery will continue to haunt us for long. Do take note: the more you hide in careful secret, the more people will know and hear about it.

What happened next will have you either boggled, or enchanted! The young lord abruptly rushed out the room before the music even ended! Should that be counted as a waltz at all? Before you ask about the enchanting part, Miss Y/n was seen dashing out the room moments later in tears and evident heartache. What do you think happened in the mere minutes of alone time in that large 4-cornered room?

But come now, enchanting stories aren't as they are without a knight in shining armor. In fact, in our young miss’ case, her knight wasn't clad in shining, silver sheath, but in magnificent and elegant, vintage red tailcoat draped over a loose white jabot shirt that’s cleanly tucked into the black, satin knee breeches, finished off with a pair of shiny Hessian boots. With skin as white almost akin to snow, it complemented perfectly with his ravishing fit. The beautiful marquess certainly dressed himself valiantly for the seasonal occasion. With that stunning presence, anyone would surely presume he went to the ball looking like a duke in careful search of a duchess.

Lord Park and Miss Y/n surprisingly became one of the ball’s highlights as they graced the Royal Court with the most heart-stopping, corset-itching, tantalizing waltz. All the while their faces are almost an inch apart from each other, a brooding identity was found hiding in the crowded corner of the hall! Under the bright gleam of the grand chandeliers, our dearest second-born, Lord Yang, was seen eyeing the two with such stare that even the buffy slice of vanilla cake on Lord Sunoo’s plate could almost melt in a blink of an eye!

Among the splendid tales told by yours truly, which tea do you think tastes like sweet ecstasy of oddity and fervor? It is the ton's tradition to portend the lady’s endgame by the person whom she had her last waltz with. From one man to another, should these prophecies dictate Miss Y/n Park’s fate?

Well, don't turn your heads away now! The story's just begun.”

The mid-morning sunrays peek through the large leaves and busty trunks of the hibernating redwood trees lining in disarray. Y/n is just about to plummet into her habitual readings in the Kielder forest and the autumnal breeze is keeping up with her bubbly morning approach, fortunately.

The sounds of the birds chirping and the dead leaves crunching under her shoes creep up through her puff sleeves making her tingle in giddiness and enthusiasm. She deeply inhales the aromatic forest and lets out a giggle in the process. With jumpy leaps and crispy leaves echoing in her every move, the young lady surely knows where she's going in this partly mysterious forest that is most often open only to men and men alone.

Somewhere deep in the evergreen woods, Y/n has built a fortress of her own for whenever she needs to run away from the seldom, mundane life in the manor. At the heart of Northumberland's famous Kielder Forest, lies a small, whimsical looking fort made up of translucent voile casually hanging on a tree branch. One of her lady maids helped her out with the fabric one time and it still stood prettily among the chaotic scenes that go around in the forest today.

She enters her slightly sheer fort and sits down on a pillow that she stole away from the comforts of her bedroom. Flipping the olden pages of the aged Jane Austen book she borrowed from a boy several years back, she heaves a sigh at the sight of a dead Catalpa flower resting on a particular page accompanied by a little, worn out parchment dating back to when she was a tiny ten-year-old lassie. She reads,

Her eyes drifted over the page to where the note and the old flower were situated. The pads of her fingers graze over the certain phrases that were underlined by the book's owner that says, “I cannot make speeches. If l loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.一 You hear nothing but truth from me.一”

She suddenly feels a gush of nostalgia and loneliness upon muttering the words she had ultimately carved in her tongue way back; reciting each word with fervor while she bask herself under the brightly-lit moonlight in their garden. How can children of ten gobble up such emotions at once? So much for a pair of hopeless romantic hearts from the distant years of ten, screaming disagreements and would later huddle on a sprawled out table cloth on the flowery fields, exchanging sentimental poesies and stolen stares.

She relives the brief moments they both shared last night in the Queen’s library, and ponders on how one could be so adjacent to the changing of tides in the sea; promptly, and mostly without warning.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the feelings I've been trying to avoid.” She whispers to the autumn air. Unfortunately, her pondering truncates as snaps of twigs and crisps off dried leaves echoes in her corner. She hastily crawls out her hand-made canopy and brushes away any pieces of tiny crumpled leaves off her dress.

“What are you doi-”

“Who are you?” She cuts off the startled chap cladded in ragged clothing, apparently embodying that of a mainland farm boy.

“Greetings, your ladyship. I come in peace and I am just here to fetch the chopped woods I’ve laboured a day prior for the farm.” The chap with a very odd accent replies with both hands hanging mid-air. “You are fully aware that you shouldn't be in this place, especially unchaperoned, right?” He continues.

“I am fully aware. But such matters shouldn't concern you.”

“Indeed, my apologies. Furthermore, I will respect your unspoken wishes if it is truly your desire to keep your whereabouts hidden from your townspeople. My lady.”

Y/n relaxes from her bold stance as she found a hint of kindness from the odd stranger. Surprisingly, she extends her hand out to the stranger for a greeting.

“Please. Call me Y/n instead.” The boy looks at her open palm for half a minute before shaking it, looking as equally surprised as the young miss with the sudden gesture.

“You live pretty far from the town, huh?”

“I do. Life's utterly chaotic over on your end?”

“Oh, you don't have the slightest idea.” They both share laughters and inside jokes of their own livelihood that made the young miss settle her shoulders down comfortably.

“I'm Jake Sim. Just Jake Sim. Apparently, my name was originally Jaeyun, but the farm folks got used with Jake and so did I. They said it sounds more Australian.”

“Why would they associate your name with something Australian?” Y/n grew more curious as it was, after all, the first time she's ever been with a person that's not of Northumberland's proper.

“I grew up in Australia.”

“That's curious. How did an Australian boy land among the ragged farms of Europe?”

“It's complicated. The story involves a lot of conspiracies so it's definitely not for your ears. Some other time, maybe?” Y/n smirks at the sudden brazenness from her newly found acquaintance.

“Is this an Australian thing where we shift from acquaintanceship to something more?” She teases.

“Certainly, if you're down to it on your next Kielder visit?”

“For sure. But as for now, I must take my leave. My presence is very much needed for the promenade scheduled for me today.” Y/n half-covers her mouth as if reaching out for a whisper, hissing the last sentence.

“Ah! Rich people things that I could never.” The chap could only roll his eyes at the fancy thought.

“See you soon, Just Jake Sim!”

“Where have you been, princess?” The young miss scoffs at the marquess upon arriving at the town’s park, with a hand immediately sliding through Lord Park’s arm.

“Down with the flirtatious remarks now, aren't we? I went to promenade with myself, Your ever handsome Grace.” Sunghoon smirks at her tiny, playful whispers against his shoulders. They go around and about, traipsing along the cemented pavements as they give away acknowledging nods and polite smiles to whomever wants their brief attention.

The ton is still in amazed shock at the possibility of these two ending up with a ring on a finger. Everyone was subtly betting for Jungwon but as a result of his loss, a much better gent carried his girl off the floor. Something he let himself do, out of cowardice perhaps, or out of pride.

“Remind me the point of all this?” Y/n carefully whispers to Sunghoon.

“To make your man jealous and spit out his genuine sentiments in the process, as well as an advantage for me as we get to keep the marriage-minded mothers of the ton at bay. Now, all we have to do is smile, nod, and appear madly in love with each other if this is to work. Is it clear enough for you?” He jerks a brow at her paired with the most charming smirk he could ever expose.

“Crystal.”

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ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021