#yandere don

[mrsgiovanna]

The little things (Yan! Don Giovanna x reader)

It's been forever and a day since I've written anything, so this isn't the best 😭... just an idea inspired by @thecw-unicorn .

Word count: 1.8k

Tw: yandere behavior, possessiveness, just yand Giorno being yan Giorno haha. Pls, I don't condone this behavior in reality. This is just fiction.

Your day started off just as they all had for the past few weeks... woken up by the ambient light that filtered through the gauzy curtains in your room, followed by slowly meandering through your morning routine until you were convinced it was late enough for you to go down to breakfast without having to cross paths with him. Your fingers trailed through the various outfits in your closet, each perfectly constructed to meet your measurements and likes while still catering to his preferences. It annoyed you, how everything was curated to suit you but felt so insufferable to experience.

From the outside looking in, your existence was a dream, lavished with the best of everything, housed in a villa with comfort few could even imagine, and a handsome powerful man who could create a universe for you, and he would, if you'd ask for it. But this charmed existence came at a price… as most things did, but you often wondered if all the designer clothes and expensive jewellery was worth your agency? Could you continue to live within the confines of his rules? Sitting at the vanity mirror, you looked at yourself, the visage was your own, you recognised the curve of your cheeks and the slope of your nose and the ways the sunlight bathed your complexion but your eyes felt different… foreign… but in a way that you just couldn't name.

A soft tapping at your door pulled you out of your reverie.

“Yes, come in,” you responded, returning to your reflection as you smoothed out your outfit for the day. It was one of Giorno’s staff, Stella, the helper he had assigned specifically for you, who had let themselves in at your invitation.

“Don Giovanna wishes to see you,”

The silence hung in the air for a while, before prompted again.

“[First]? Did you hear me?”

“I did,” you sighed, and stood. Stalling wouldn't help you today, Giorno only ever sent anyone for you when he was insistent on seeing you and no amount of tricks would save you from that.

“Come along, we wouldn't want to keep Don Giovanna waiting,” said Stella with a serene smile.

“You wouldn't want to keep him waiting, I on the other hand, have no such reservations,” you quipped. Stella simply shook her head at your defiance and walked with you towards the grand dining room.

On occasion you would take your breakfasts there, and dinner when Giorno would be your dining companion, otherwise you had preferred the sunroom with large windows overlooking the beautifully manicured gardens of the villa. You could spend hours there, lost in a book or one of the other hobbies that had become an outlet for you. Giorno had always encouraged your passions… the ones that would keep you on his premises that is.

It was always like that with him. Behind his kind gestures and honeyed words was a veil of control that he was unwilling to relent on. He had always said that it was to keep you from harm, but you wondered how anyone could inflict harm on a man who was akin to a god.

You had arrived at the dining room and seated yourself at the furthest seat from Giorno across the long mahogany table. There was a feast of items, from fresh fruits to pastries and fluffy scrambled eggs and toasted breads. He knew you'd try to hastily leave and was always prepared for resistance from you, but there was something softer in his demeanour today. You eyes wandered over him, he was more relaxed today, even in his dressing, the cashmere turtleneck and dark wash jeans replaced his usual tailored suit, which was still impeccably stylish, but aimed at comfort.

He folded the newspaper he was reading and settled it neatly to the side at your arrival.

“Good morning, [First]” he greeted with a smile, his green eyes sparkling almost as bright as the emeralds on your bracelet.

“Morning….” You flinched internally at the blandness of your response but schooled your features into indifference.

“Have you slept well?” He asked, attempting to ignite a semblance of a conversation.

“Well enough thanks… so… is there a particular reason you wanted to see me today?”

Giorno laughed at the bluntness of your response.

“Always to the point… it's one of the things I love about you. To answer your question, there is something I'd like to talk about”. You nodded for him to continue.

“I was thinking, a change of scenery might be nice, what would you say to a trip to Corsica? I've acquired a secluded villa right on the coast, it's beautiful this time of year…” Giorno trailed off at the downcast expression on your face.

“When do you want to go?” you asked, buttering a piece of toast just to give your hands something to do.

Giorno leaned forward slightly, his expression softening as he caught the hint of reluctance in your voice. "We can leave whenever you’d like. I thought a few days away would do you some good—away from the city, from the noise. Just you and me, no distractions."

The idea of Corsica sounded lovely in theory—a place so far removed from the rest of the world. A place where you could find peace. But you knew better. No matter where you went, no matter how beautiful the scenery, it would still be a gilded cage. The control would remain, the invisible strings pulling at you, limiting your freedom.

You sipped your tea, trying to mask the tension building in your chest. "It sounds nice," you replied carefully, keeping your tone neutral. "But I have things to take care of here." A lie, an unconvincing one but it was all you could think of.

Giorno’s lips twitched into a slight smile, as if amused by your deflection. "Of course, you do. But none of it is so urgent that it can’t wait a few days, no?" His tone was gentle, coaxing, yet firm—leaving little room for argument.

You set your cup down, fingers lightly tracing the rim. "Maybe. I’ll think about it."

There was a pause, the room falling into a familiar, tense quiet, the kind that always followed when Giorno offered you something that was, in truth, an order cloaked as a suggestion. He never pushed too hard, but he never let go, either. You could feel his gaze on you, studying, waiting for the resistance to fade.

"I just want you to be happy, cara," he said, voice low and sincere. "I know things have been difficult, but I want us to have more moments to ourselves, to enjoy life together."

You glanced up at him, meeting those piercing green eyes that always seemed to see more than they should. A part of you wanted to believe in his words, to think that he truly cared, but the weight of his possessiveness and control was never far from your mind.

“I know you do,” you replied quietly, “but sometimes… I need space to find that happiness.”

Giorno’s smile faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with an understanding nod. “Of course. We can discuss it further whenever you're ready. But just know, I’ll always be here, offering whatever you need.”

You gave a small, polite smile and shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of his words settle around you. The breakfast laid out before you seemed like a feast, but you felt anything but hungry. It was always like this—an endless cycle of gilded promises wrapped in velvet chains.

And no matter how far you went, no matter how beautiful the setting, the freedom you craved always seemed just out of reach.

Giorno watched you in silence for a moment, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any flicker of happiness. The quiet tension between you felt too heavy, too oppressive, and he wasn’t one to let things remain that way for long. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

"You seem tense, amore," he remarked casually, his tone light but with a calculated intention behind it. He gestured toward the fruit plate with a lazy wave of his hand, and in the next instant, you saw something move out of the corner of your eye.

A tiny kitten materialized on the table, no bigger than the palm of your hand. Its fur was a delicate golden color, shimmering faintly as it mewed softly and blinked up at you with wide, curious eyes. It stretched its tiny paws and let out an adorable little purr, batting at a grape that had rolled beside it.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Giorno, what—?"

He chuckled softly. "I thought you could use some company. Sometimes, it's the little things that can brighten your day."

The kitten padded its way closer to you, its tiny paws pattering against the table. Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against its soft fur as it purred louder and nudged your hand with its small head. A reluctant smile crept onto your face, despite the guarded wall you’d been trying to keep up.

"There it is," Giorno said, his voice gentle and pleased. "A smile. I knew you had one hiding in there."

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the warmth spreading in your chest as the kitten pawed at your fingers, its playful energy contagious. You picked it up carefully, cradling the delicate creature in your hands, and it immediately curled into your palm, purring contentedly.

Giorno watched you intently, his gaze softening as he saw the tension in your posture begin to ease. "See? A simple little thing, and already the day feels better, doesn’t it?"

You shook your head, unable to suppress the small laugh that escaped you. "You really think a kitten is going to fix everything, don’t you?"

"Not everything," he replied with a knowing smile, "but it’s a start."

You held the kitten up, watching as it batted at your finger playfully, its tiny claws barely scratching at your skin. There was something about the innocence of the little creature that tugged at your heart, and for a moment, the weight of the morning lifted just a little.

Giorno leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand as he continued to watch you. "I don’t need to fix everything, amore mio. I just want to see you happy—whatever that looks like for you."

The sincerity in his voice made you pause, glancing over at him. His green eyes, always so sharp and calculating, held a softness that made it hard to look away. He wasn’t pressuring you this time, wasn’t forcing you into something you didn’t want. He was simply… there, offering a small moment of joy in a life that often felt too controlled.

You stroked the kitten, your smile lingering as you looked down at the small, golden ball of fluff in your lap. "Thank you, Giorno," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his smile widening just a fraction, the sound of his name from your lips was always a balm to his soul. "It’s nothing, cara. I’ll always do whatever I can to make you smile."

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Wedding Bells

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader Part 2

Word Count: 2.5k

Warning: Nothing but the fact that Don John is hypnotic

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited

You pay no heed to the stares of passing court ladies and lingering servants while making your way towards the Queen’s chamber. You have grown accustomed to them now. Of course, people will stare—you are a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, despite having no house or regal title to your name. As the daughter of a blacksmith, you should not be even in the Queen’s chamber—any royal chamber. But here you are, serving and accompanying. the queen wherever she goes. 

Your father used to say that he was a self-taught man, a person of his stature, should have been illiterate. But he not only taught himself but you as well. And one day, by a twist of fate, you found yourself in the Queen’s presence. She took a liking to you and appointed you as her chambermaid. But by the time the seventeenth summer of your life passed, you were elevated to the position of her lady-in-waiting. You later realised that she needed a true trustworthy lady by her side. The court was divided, and the Queen needed a loyal companion by her side, and she put her confidence in you. 

You are no Lady by birth, but you have learned the court's ways and a Lady's mannerisms. You will never be accepted, of course, you do not expect them to. But as long as you have the Queen's favour and know your place, you are safe.

“What took you so long.”

“Apologies, Your Highness,” You bow down before gesturing for the maid following you to serve the Queen her tea.

“The physician is certain that this shall help you sleep better, Your Highness.”

The Queen nods, taking a tentative sip of her tea. 

“The Prince of Spain will be here tomorrow. And here I am, unable to earn a wink of sleep. How shall I welcome and accompany them if an unrested mind grips me.”

“Forgive me, My Queen but you have taken great troubles, arranging the union, pursuing the King and preparing for the Prince and his companions’ welcome. Sleeplessness might be a result of such responsibilities.”

The Queen smiles faintly and takes another sip “You always know what to say, clever girl?”

“I merely state what is obvious, Your Grace.”

“I haven’t been able to keep track of the court, I have been engaged with the matters of the Princess’s marriage. Anything worthy?”

“Not much, Your Highness, the King has taken an interest in Lord Beecham’s eldest daughter.”

“The Earl of the Walden?”

“I’m afraid so.” You pour some more tea into her cup.

“Wasn’t it he who rebelled against my father when he was King? My dearest husband started a rebellion and won, and now his favourite dogs wag their tails in the court. Strange are the times.” That’s all she says before picking up on her letters to read.

Such news comes as no surprise to her, as long as those ‘pretty playthings’ as she likes to call them do not try to influence the King in ways she holds the power to, the Queen doesn’t mind. The King has his entertainment, the Queen has hers, and only one has it in the public eye—the other needs to be discreet.

“Prepare to welcome the Spanish Royalty tomorrow, and tell the Princess to be ready. The looming war could be thwarted with the Spanish by our side. Your King doesn’t seem to understand that, but as the Queen, I do. They’ve sailed for days, are bound to be haggard, and make sure the supply of wine, and food never runs out, and hopefully, the capital's brothels are ready as well?”

“All has been taken care of, My Queen.”

She nods before assessing you, as if stuck by a sudden realisation “How old are you again?”

“I turned twenty, two moons ago, Your Highness.”

“You mean two months.”

“Yes, My Queen, my apologies.”

She makes a dismissive gesture and puts aside the now-empty tea cup.

 “Don’t be, you should never forget your roots, your reality, where you came from, where you are, and where you can end up. Wear this knowledge like armour, and it can never be used against you.”

“Yes, My Queen.”

“Now go, it is late and tomorrow you must be up earlier than the rest.”

With a greeting of good night, you make your way out of her chamber.

—-----

“Do you see them, now?” Madeline asks, quivering with excitement. 

The young and handsome Crown Prince of the foreign empire, his brother and fellow loyal soldiers riding into the capital—a visual straight out of those romantic fables and poetry that court maidens love so much.

But you are not them. They see the idyllic image of a handsome prince marching towards the palace. You see their banner and the potential this alliance has. The Queen has seen the possibility of a looming war years before it actually might happen and after all these years with her, you know that the Queen is seldom wrong when it comes to politics.

“Look! That’s the Crown Prince. Look at his dark curls, he's magnificent, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Maddy, he is.”

“And there, his brother siding beside him…Oh, and his bastard brother too, riding behind.”

You frown and fix your gaze on the man riding right behind the Princes.”

“I thought bastards do not join such official ceremonies.”

“I heard that the Emperor has recognised him, some say he might even become a Duke there.”

“A Duke? But, he’s a bastard.” You turn to your friend, surprised.

“Birth does not always decide our place in this world. We were lowborns as well. Your father was a blacksmith, mine was a butcher. Look at us now.” 

“We still are lowborns Maddy, this will never change.”

Madeline nods “You’re right, but here we are, overlooking the Prince of Spain marching into the Palace.”

“What is his name?” You ask, intrigued as your gaze fixes on the man in black and white.

“The Prince? He is Mechor Bohorquez de Alvarado, and—”

“Not the Prince, his bastard brother, what’s his name?”

“Him? That’s Don Juan—that’s in Spanish. John,  his mother was not from Spain as I’ve heard.”

“And where do you hear all these from?” You turn to her.

“From the letters I carry.”

“Maddy! They would have you imprisoned at the least for this!” Your eyes widen as you hiss into her ear.

“Take a breath, nobody knows, or suspects. I have been curious, you know?”

“Still, this is dangerous. You will not do it again.” You touch her shoulder to assert “I mean it, Maddy. No playing around dangerously…Please.”

Madeline sighed “Okay, I won’t do it again.”

—--

With a grand welcome has come the dinner— an even grander affair. Pies, cakes, ale, roasts, meat, sweets and chocolates, lots of chocolates, a gift from the Spanish Empire—-the food and drink flow in and empty trays and plates leave the grand hall where the Spanish princes and their men make merry, laugh, drink, and eat. The Crown Prince sits with the King, the Queen and the Princess by their side. The rest of his friends and companions enjoy the never-ending flow of wine and delicacies. At the same time, they play charades of words and intentions with noble women, from the newly blossomed to the ripened, the maiden and the sourly married while their father and husbands go off with other women. 

The norm of the court.

You have seen plenty of it already. You sit with Madeline, tired from running around and ensuring everything is perfect. Your eyes wander around the hall without any particular purpose, until your gaze lands on the bastard Prince—having been granted recognition and now holding the prospect of dukedom, you expected him to be tangled with women in a corner, drunk out of his mind. But he simply stands with a shorter man, that you surmise is some advisor or friend of his, too old to be a squire.

As if feeling eyes on him, his gaze meets yours. 

You like to think that you are above all those silly notions and admirations, that you only want to learn the ways of the court and survive it, excel in it, even. 

But the moment your eyes meet his, you are frozen. Everything seems to stop, everything but the electrifying sensation of his gaze–deep, dark and intense– meeting yours. You feel it in every part of you, because suddenly, everything comes alive in you, things you never existed. 

Your heart thuds uncontrollably.

 But your mind is not racing, it’s not going anywhere at all—there is no thought other than the realisation, that he is beautiful—not exactly the sharp, princely, kind–although it is there, he has something more, something different—he is beautiful with his big brown eyes–sharp but not exactly arrogant, there’s something worse. 

No, no, no. Don’t do that. You are no royalty, you will get no chance to clean up your mistakes.

You chastise yourself and look down at your empty goblet after offering him a polite smile, deliberately making sure that it is no different from the one you offered while welcoming the rest of the guests for the evening. 

But it does not help that you still feel his gaze.

—--

You wish you could wake up to the position of the sun you wanted. But that is the luxury only the royal family enjoys here and the noble ladies who aren’t the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Besides, you are to oversee the cleaning of the Grand Hall before the King wakes. Everything is supposed to be pristine and shining.

“The corner is still not done, and carpet—is that…” The putrid smell of vomit greets you as soon as you step closer to the ‘mysterious’ stain on the carpet in the hall. “Forget cleaning this, the carpet needs to be replaced.” You dismiss the servants, urging them to be quicker.

You look around the place. Wine stains on the walls, splattered food, some pearls, some shoes, even some clothes left behind. It seems like after you left the place has been through a wild ride.

“Much to clean up?” 

Turning to the entrance of the hall, you find an unexpected face.

“My Lord.” You greet him in your Kingdom’s fashion of formality.

“Don John. That’s my name.” He saunters inside, looking around before your eyes again for an official greeting. 

While something tells you that the belated greeting was neither custom nor negligence, you do not pay heed to his boyish attempt to ruffle your feathers. Subtle, typical of courtly politics but never amiss.

“Prince Don John, it is an honour to meet you, but I’m afraid this…” You look around, partly embarrassed with the mess, though it was most definitely, the Spanish guest’s doing. “Is no place for any of our esteemed guesses to be.”

“Please, you embarrass me, My Lady, I’m afraid my brothers and men have much hand in this…mischief. They get drunk so often and so easily, lose their gentlemanly coats.”

This makes a genuine smile press press out stubbornly. He sports no accent that might give away his Spanish heritage, you notice.

“We are most honoured to have your brave and virtuous men in our palace, and the Crown Prince, for the Princess’s hand.” 

Don John smiles down at you, he is tall, you notice–lean but athletic.

“The court here is most polite and charming.” 

Oh, only if he knew the thrones hiding under the roses.

“Of course it is.” You reply. 

His smirk tells you that maybe he is not as new to this game as you surmised.

“They say my mother was from this land.”

“Here?”

“I am not sure ‘here’, but, somewhere from this beautiful land. His Highness, my…father, says I have her eyes and his temperament.”

“The Emperor of Spain has been most generous with us.”

Don John smiles and looks ahead as you both make your way towards the spring garden—now beginning to turn brown with the onset of autumn.

“I assume this court is not too different from ours, after all, people like us get the opportunity to rise,” he comments, lightly tracing the vines as you two make your way deeper into the garden.

“I’m afraid, my Lord, unlike you, I have no royal blood or upbringing.” 

Don John frowns, you read the questions before they come to his lips and explain yourself.

“My father was a blacksmith who forged a few good swords for the nobility. God bless our kind and generous Queen, she took me under her wing, and took care of my learnings of books and mannerisms.”

“I see” 

There is a slight smile, that does not seem anywhere near mockery. You know what a smile veiling a scowl looks like. His smile has no malice peeking subtle, it is just a courteous smile---either that or he is good at hiding it. It confuses you more. There is no straight line he can be read through. He is no open book. A puzzle, yes, that he is, a puzzle that has all its pieces scattered around. 

All.

Nothing is hidden from you for long.

—----

“And I wish I could smack his head—-” Maddy bursts into another fit of giggles, narrating her adventures during the welcome feast “Have you heard, it’s said that the Prince has never lost a single battle.” 

You shrug, fingers racing the leaves and flowers as you two stroll through the gardens. The Queen’s courtyard had some of the most stunning autumn blooms, along with the fallen leaves on the damp ground. The faraway mist gives the stretches of land beyond the place walls an eerie beauty.

“But some say that he has never lost a war, because in every war, his half-brother, Don Juan has fought by his side. Crushing the enemies like ants.”

“Ants?” You chuckle. I do not doubt Don John’s capabilities on the battlefield, but  slaying enemies like ants is slightly an exaggeration.”

“Yes, could be, or perhaps he is indeed the finest sword Spain has ever witnessed? No wonder the Emperor wants to keep his loyalty.”

“And is he not a threat instead?”

“Why would he be so?” 

You sigh and gaze at the forming mist beyond the palace walls. Most of the view is interrupted by guards standing taut like stretched bows.

“I’ve heard rumours, the Queen, sometimes, I heard her say, that Don Juan, though, to the world younger than the Crown Prince, is in reality, two autumns older.

“What?” Maddy ducks her head and looks at you in disbelief “None of….” Licking her lips, looks around before lowering her voice to whisper “None of the letters ever mentioned.”

“It’s just a rumour, we don’t know the truth.”

“If the Queen’s spy says that…”

“Never heard her mention the source, it was a passing comment.” You explain

“Why would the Emporer give him Dukedom then? He’s a threat to his succession.” 

Maddy is right, Don John indeed is more of a threat than an ally if seen through the shrewd lenses, and you know that all the glories and virtues are nothing more than grand shows— carnival under the roof of sorts.

“Maybe, they want to keep him close. He crushes the enemies like ants, you said it yourself”

“They say he swings his mind in battle strategies more than his sword.” She adds after a moment of thought.

“Then he is a dangerous man.”

“If the Princess marries the Prince, they must produce an heir as soon as they can.”

You sigh and turn to a wilted rose.

“They must. We need the Spanish Ships, a war might be stirring soon.”

******

[joonie7007]

DON YOU A BIG MAN BEAT HIM UPP 🗣️🗣️

Me to Don:

Don't make unnecessary journeys!? Don't take risks on treacherous roads and don't swim in the sea!? 😭‼️‼️‼️WHY DID WE GO TO THE APARTMENT AND NOT THE COPS BRUV

[velting]

Blood Lock

CHAPTER 5

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⚠️WARING⚠️: THIS CHAPTER HAS SOME NOT SAFE CONENT! PLEASE READ WITH YOUR OWN CAUTION!! IF YOU DON'T ENJOY IT! THEN PLEASE SKIP IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED EVERYONE!

:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The weekend arrived with a quiet hush over the campus. The corridors were emptier than usual, save for the occasional cluster of students enjoying their free time. [Name], however, couldn’t shake the events of the night before. Every time her mind wandered back to Yoichi’s kiss, her cheeks flared a deep crimson. She had spent half the morning pacing her dorm room, trying to make sense of her feelings.

"Why am I like this?" she muttered to herself, her hands tugging at the sleeves of her oversized cardigan. She shook her head as if trying to physically rid herself of the thoughts. "Focus, [Name]. You’ve got stuff to do."

With a determined nod, she decided to head to the library. Studying always helped clear her mind, and with exams looming, she had the perfect excuse to dive into research. The crisp autumn air nipped at her cheeks as she made her way across campus. Leaves crunched under her feet, their golden hues scattered across the pathways like nature’s own confetti.

The library was quiet when she entered, the faint scent of aged paper and ink enveloping her. She walked past rows of shelves, her fingers brushing against the spines of books as she searched for the ones she needed. Stopping by the history section, her gaze fell upon a particular title: “Vampires: Myths, Legends, and Truths.”

Her brow furrowed. “Vampires?” she murmured under her breath.

The book seemed almost out of place among the historical texts, yet its bold title called to her. She hesitated, glancing around the library. No one seemed to be paying her any attention, so she pulled the book from the shelf, the old leather cover cool against her fingertips.

Curiosity prickled at the edges of her mind as she searched for a secluded corner to read. She found an empty table tucked away near the back of the library, surrounded by towering bookshelves that created a cocoon of solitude. Sitting down, she opened the book, the pages crackling faintly as she flipped through the introduction.

The dim lighting above cast a warm glow on the aged pages as [Name] began to read. The text delved into the origins of vampire myths, citing historical events and folklore from different cultures. She skimmed through sections on ancient beliefs about blood-drinking spirits and their evolution into the modern vampire archetype.

“Immortality,” she read aloud in a hushed tone. “Enhanced senses, strength, and speed… but also vulnerability to sunlight, holy objects, and wooden stakes.”

She paused, tilting her head. “Garlic, though? That just sounds dumb.”

The book continued to describe vampires as both seductive and predatory, their charm often used to lure unsuspecting victims. [Name]’s lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes skimmed over the descriptions.

"Sounds like some people I know," she muttered dryly, thinking about certain individuals on campus.

But then, her heart skipped a beat. One passage described vampires' ability to compel or influence others, bending their will through eye contact or touch. Her mind flashed back to Rensuke—his piercing gaze, the way her body felt immobile under his touch.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “That’s ridiculous. He’s just—he’s not…”

Yet, the seed of doubt was planted. She continued reading, her fingers tracing the delicate script as she learned about vampire hierarchy, their weaknesses, and signs that someone might be one. Myths and truths were separated, yet the lines blurred in a way that left her unsettled.

Hours seemed to pass as [Name] lost herself in the book. The library’s quiet atmosphere felt heavier now, the stillness amplifying the creak of the floorboards and the occasional shuffle of other students in the distance. Her eyes darted over another passage.

“Symptoms of a vampire attack: fatigue, weakness, dizziness, puncture wounds…”

Her thighs twitched instinctively as her mind went to the still-visible mark. The memory of that night, the way her body had screamed in pain, sent a shiver down her spine.

“No,” she said more firmly, closing the book for a moment. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. “It’s just a coincidence. Stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life.”

Yet, her mind betrayed her, piecing together fragments of moments and people.The Raichi incident, Rensuke’s strange behavior. Sae’s almost predatory aura. The cryptic warnings about Ruka and the way Ego seemed to watch everything unfold with an omniscient air.

“What if…” she began to think, but immediately stopped herself.

“No,” she said aloud, this time firmer. Her voice echoed faintly in the empty section of the library, startling her. She glanced around, heart pounding, before returning her gaze to the book.

Still, curiosity won out. She reopened the text, flipping to a section on detecting vampires among humans. As she read, her breath hitched.

“Red eyes during heightened emotions… an aversion to mirrors…” Her voice grew softer as she recited the words. “Cold skin… a hunger that never quite subsides…”

Her mind once again betrayed her, conjuring images of people she knew. Raichi’s sharp teeth, Rensuke’s smoldering red gaze. Ruka’s icy hands when he pulled her away. The way Michael and Lorenzo seemed to devour everything with their eyes, as if nothing could satisfy them.

[Name] slammed the book shut, the sound reverberating through the quiet library. She stood abruptly, clutching the book to her chest as she glanced around nervously.

“No way,” she muttered, her voice trembling. “This is ridiculous. They’re just people. Normal people.”

But even as she tried to convince herself, the uneasy feeling in her chest refused to subside. She placed the book back on the shelf, her hands shaking slightly, and quickly gathered her things. As she walked out of the library, the sensation of being watched prickled at the back of her neck.

[Name] didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to see if anyone—or anything—was there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The streets of town buzzed with a lively weekend energy as [Name] wandered aimlessly, the chill autumn breeze biting at her cheeks. Her stomach growled, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts about vampires and unsettling campus drama. Spotting a cozy sandwich shop tucked between a bookstore and a boutique, she made her way inside, grateful for its warmth and inviting smell of freshly baked bread.

She approached the counter, scanning the chalkboard menu. "Grilled cheese with tomato soup, please," she said to the cashier, offering a small, polite smile. As she waited for her order, she found a quiet table near the window and settled in, pulling out her phone.

The warm golden light from the overhead bulbs glinted off her glasses as [Name] scrolled through Instagram. A series of funny cat videos managed to coax a few chuckles out of her, the tension in her shoulders slowly easing. By the time her food arrived—a perfectly crisp sandwich paired with steaming tomato soup—she felt like she could almost push the events of the past week aside.

Almost.

She took a bite of the sandwich, savoring the buttery crunch and the gooey cheese. But as soon as she dipped it into the soup, a voice broke through her momentary peace.

“Well, if it isn’t [Name]!”

She froze mid-bite, slowly looking up to see Kuon Wataru standing by her table, his signature cocky smile plastered across his face. He waved casually, a sandwich in one hand and a drink in the other.

“Oh, uh… hey,” she said hesitantly, swallowing her food.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already pulling out the chair across from her.

[Name] glanced around the shop, noticing the multiple empty tables he could’ve chosen. Her eyebrows furrowed. “There’s, uh, plenty of other spots,” she said carefully.

Kuon shrugged, setting his food down. “Yeah, but none of them have the pleasure of your company.”

She sighed. Something about his presence made her wary, but she wasn’t in the mood to argue. “Fine,” she muttered, waving a hand toward the chair.

He sat down with a satisfied grin, leaning back in his seat. “Thanks. So, how are you holding up?”

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “Holding up?”

“Y’know,” Kuon said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “After that whole assembly thing. Heard it got… intense.”

Her grip on her spoon tightened, and she avoided his gaze, staring into her soup. “It’s fine,” she said curtly.

“Fine?” Kuon echoed, his tone laced with disbelief. “Come on, [Name], I saw the way Ruka dragged you out of there. And then you—” He mimicked the motion of her slap, his hand snapping to his cheek dramatically. “That was wild. I mean, I didn’t think you had it in you to—”

“Kuon.” Her voice cut through his chatter like a knife. She finally looked up at him, her expression sharp. “Can we not talk about that?”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk still playing on his lips. “Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off.”

[Name] sighed, running a hand through her hair. She took another bite of her sandwich, hoping the act of eating would put an end to the conversation.

But Kuon wasn’t done. “Still,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table, “you gotta admit, Ruka can be… a bit much, right?”

Her eyes flicked to his, narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Kuon said, his tone light but pointed. “The guy’s always hovering around you. Like, does he even give you space to breathe? He acts more like your shadow than your cousin.”

[Name]’s jaw tightened. She set her sandwich down, her appetite suddenly waning. “He’s just protective,” she muttered, though even as she said it, the words felt hollow.

“Protective?” Kuon snorted. “More like controlling. Seriously, [Name], the way he acts—dragging you away, trying to micromanage your life—it’s not normal.”

She clenched her fists on the table, the frustration that had been simmering inside her finally bubbling to the surface. “You think I don’t know that?” she snapped, her voice low but fierce.

Kuon blinked, surprised by her outburst.

[Name] took a deep breath, her hands shaking slightly. “I’ve told him a million times to back off, but he doesn’t listen. He just keeps… smothering me. Like he thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Kuon watched her for a moment, his smirk fading into something softer. “Hey,” he said, his tone unusually gentle. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She didn’t respond, staring down at her hands as they twisted in her lap.

“For what it’s worth,” Kuon continued, “I think you handled yourself pretty well at the assembly. Ruka needed to be put in his place, and you did that. You’ve got guts, [Name]. More than most people around here.”

She glanced up at him, her expression conflicted. “It didn’t feel like guts,” she admitted quietly. “It felt like… like I lost control.”

“Maybe,” Kuon said with a shrug. “But sometimes losing control is the only way to make people listen.”

His words lingered in the air, and for a moment, [Name] felt a flicker of understanding pass between them. She picked up her spoon, swirling it in her soup as she mulled over his statement.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kuon leaned back in his chair, his smirk returning. “Anytime. Just remember—if you ever need someone to vent to, I’m your guy.”

[Name] gave him a small, reluctant smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Kuon finished his meal and excused himself, she watched him go, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Despite his brash personality, he had given her something to think about. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to deal with everything on her own.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sandwich shop was beginning to clear out as [Name] finished the last sip of her tomato soup. She felt a small sense of relief after venting to Kuon, even if the conversation left her with mixed feelings. Packing her things, she made her way to the counter to pay, bowing slightly to the cashier.

“Thank you. That was delicious,” she said sincerely, handing over a few bills.

The cashier smiled. “Come back anytime!”

As [Name] adjusted her bag on her shoulder and headed toward the exit, she instinctively reached into her pocket to check her phone. Her heart sank when her hand came up empty. She stopped in her tracks, patting her other pocket. Nothing.

Frowning, she opened her bag and rummaged through it carefully, checking every compartment. Maybe she had misplaced it. She scanned the table where she’d been sitting, her eyes narrowing as she retraced her steps.

‘Okay, no big deal,’ she told herself. It’s here somewhere.

But the longer she searched, the faster her composure crumbled. She ducked under her table, checking the floor. Nothing. She went back to her chair, lifting it to see if her phone had slipped underneath. Still nothing.

“Where is it?” she muttered, her voice growing more frantic.

Her heart raced as the worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind. What if someone stole it? What if she dropped it? What if it’s gone forever?

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘Stay rational, [Name]. Think.’

She thought back to the last time she’d seen it—when she was scrolling through Instagram while eating. Maybe she’d left it there. She went back to the table again, scanning it meticulously. Still, her phone was nowhere to be found.

Her stomach churned with dread. No way… Kuon wouldn’t, would he?

The idea made her blood boil. She hoped it was just a coincidence and not a cruel joke at her expense.

As she stepped outside, she spotted an old payphone across the street. She sprinted over, fumbling through her bag for spare change. Sliding the coins into the slot, she dialed her own number, the metallic beeps of the phone ringing loud in her ears.

“Please, please, please,” she whispered, holding her breath as it rang.

After a few moments, the line connected, and a voice came through.

“Well, well, look who’s calling,” came the familiar, smug tone of Kuon Wataru.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her grip tightening on the phone. “Kuon?!”

“That’s right. Lose something, [Name]?” His voice dripped with mockery.

Her blood ran cold. “Where’s my phone?” she demanded, her tone sharp.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kuon replied, his smirk audible through the receiver. “Look across the street.”

Her head snapped up, scanning the area frantically. Then she saw him. Standing casually across the road, leaning against a lamppost, was Kuon. In his hand, he held her phone, waving it teasingly in her direction with a smug grin plastered across his face.

[Name]’s jaw clenched as a wave of anger surged through her. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.

Kuon raised the phone to his ear, still watching her. “Relax, [Name]. I was just keeping it safe for you. You should really be more careful with your things.”

Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the receiver. “You took it, didn’t you? While I was eating.”

“‘Took’ is such a strong word,” Kuon said, feigning innocence. “I prefer to call it… borrowing. You know, as a friend.”

“Friend?” [Name] hissed, her voice rising. “What kind of ‘friend’ steals someone’s phone and then taunts them about it?”

Kuon laughed, the sound infuriatingly casual. “Oh, come on. You’ve been so stressed out lately. I figured I’d give you a little distraction. You can’t take everything so seriously.”

“This isn’t funny, Kuon,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “Give me my phone back. Now.”

Kuon sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. No need to get your glasses in a twist. Meet me over here, and I’ll give it back.”

She slammed the payphone down, her teeth grinding as she stormed across the street. The cold wind nipped at her face, but she barely noticed, her focus locked on Kuon’s smug expression.

When she reached him, she held out her hand, glaring at him. “Hand it over.”

Kuon twirled the phone in his hand, smirking. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Kuon,” she said through gritted teeth, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not in the mood for games. Give. It. Back.”

Finally, he relented, placing the phone in her hand with an exaggerated flourish. “There you go. Safe and sound.”

[Name] snatched it from him, checking to make sure everything was still intact. Her fingers itched to slap the smirk off his face, but she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

“Next time,” she said coldly, “keep your hands off my stuff.”

Kuon held up his hands in mock surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”

She turned on her heel and began walking away, her grip tight on her phone.

“Hey, [Name],” he called after her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around.

“For what it��s worth, you’re cute when you’re angry.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she walked away, her heart pounding with frustration. Of all the nerve…

But as infuriating as Kuon was, she couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that there was more to his actions than just playful teasing. Something about the way he’d smiled at her—the glint in his eyes—made her feel like she was a pawn in a much bigger game.

The sound of bustling traffic filled the air as [Name] stopped at the curb, waiting for the light to change. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white, her phone gripped protectively in her hand. She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves after the infuriating encounter with Kuon.

But then, she felt it—hot, shallow breaths against the back of her neck. Her entire body stiffened as a shiver raced down her spine.

"You smell… delicious," came Kuon’s low, almost predatory voice, the words dripping with sinister amusement.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her stomach churning as she instinctively stepped forward. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her throat. The moment she turned her head slightly and caught the faintest glimpse of his smirk, her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.

Without a word, she bolted across the street, weaving through honking cars and startled pedestrians. Her heart pounded in her chest as adrenaline surged through her veins. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel Kuon’s presence like a shadow looming behind her.

“Where are you going, [Name]?” His voice carried through the air, playful yet dripping with menace. “You know you can’t outrun me.”

She didn’t stop, didn’t respond. Her only thought was to get away. Her trembling fingers reached for her phone, desperate to call someone—anyone—for help. But as she unlocked the screen, her heart sank.

No SIM card.

Her footsteps faltered, panic overtaking her. “No… no, no, no!” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. 'He must’ve taken it. He handed my phone back, but he took the damn SIM card!'

Her vision blurred as fear clouded her mind. She didn’t know where she was going anymore—just away. Away from Kuon. Away from the overwhelming dread building in her chest.

Her frantic running led her to an old, abandoned church. The worn, wooden doors creaked as she shoved them open, the sound echoing in the hollow space. Dust swirled in the air as the faint moonlight streamed through the cracked stained-glass windows, casting eerie, fragmented patterns on the floor.

[Name] stumbled inside, her breathing ragged. She looked around desperately, her mind racing for a plan. Hide? Block the door? Call for help?

Before she could decide, the doors creaked again behind her.

She froze, her blood turning to ice as Kuon stepped inside. His pace was slow, deliberate, almost mocking. His smirk grew wider as his dark eyes locked onto hers.

“Well, well,” Kuon drawled, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Running to a church for sanctuary? How… poetic.”

[Name] backed away, her steps uneven as she struggled to keep her composure. “Stay back,” she warned, though her voice betrayed her fear.

Kuon chuckled, his fangs glinting in the dim light as he stepped closer. “Oh, [Name]. You should’ve known by now… there’s nowhere you can run from me.”

Her back hit the cold, stone altar, and she flinched. The realization that she was trapped sank in, and her knees threatened to give out.

“Y-You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. “A… vampire.”

Kuon tilted his head, his grin widening as he flashed his fangs fully. “Smart girl. I was wondering when you’d figure it out.”

Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the altar, trying to steady herself. “Why me? What do you want from me?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow and calculated, like a predator cornering its prey. “Why you?” he repeated, his tone turning almost reverent. “Do you have any idea how special you are? Your scent… your blood… it’s intoxicating. I’ve been watching you for a long time, [Name]. Dreaming of this moment.”

She shook her head, her breathing shallow as tears welled in her eyes. “You’re insane,” she whispered.

Kuon laughed darkly, his gaze never leaving hers. “Maybe. But you can’t deny it, can you? There’s something between us. You feel it too.”

Before she could respond, he lunged forward, slamming her body against the altar. The force knocked the air out of her lungs as she gasped, her hands instinctively trying to push him away.

“Let go of me!” she cried, her voice breaking.

But Kuon was unrelenting. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, his strength overwhelming. His face was inches from hers now, his smirk replaced by an almost animalistic hunger.

“You can struggle all you want,” he said, his voice low and rough. “It just makes you even more irresistible.”

Tears spilled down [Name]’s cheeks as she shook her head. “Please… don’t.”

Her vulnerability only seemed to excite him more. His free hand trailed down her neck, his fingers brushing against her skin with a chilling intimacy.

“You have no idea how hard it’s been to resist you,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire. “But now… I don’t think I can anymore.”

As his lips brushed against her neck, [Name] squeezed her eyes shut, a sob escaping her lips. She prayed for something—anything—to save her.

With sharp Fangs, Kuon forcefully sank his fangs deep into [Name]’s neck, she gasps from the pain as Kuon begin to greedily gobble her blood, in distraught pain she screamed from the top of her lungs, the pain triggering to thrash but Kuon restricted her movements.

The sound of tasteful moans coming from the male while hearing the girl in distress made him drink more, “Please! Stop! AAAHHH!!” She began to beg him to quite, her vision becoming blurry from all the tears streaming down her face.

With last gulp, he finally retired back and wiped the blood off his lips while having a sadistic smirk on his lips.

The church was silent except for the sound of her ragged breathing and Kuon’s whispered promises of indulgence. But in the quiethe a sigle blodd drops on the floor.

[Name] remained motionless, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as Kuon’s sinister gaze bore down on her. The oppressive weight of his presence was suffocating. She desperately searched her surroundings for a way out but found none. Her mind raced, yet her body refused to move, frozen in terror.

Kuon smirked, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim, moonlit church. "You know," he said casually, his voice laced with mockery, "you make this too easy, [Name]. You're so predictable, so... human." He teased, taking his hands off her wrist, replacing it on her neck.

[Name] swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper. "Why... why are you doing this?" she managed to stammer, her voice trembling.

"Because I can," Kuon replied simply, tilting his head as if the question amused him. "And because you're special. Don’t you realize how irresistible you are? That sweet blood of yours..." He trailed off, licking his lips as if savoring the blood.

[Name] clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall despite the quivering of her knees and the lack of iron in her body. "I’m not some... some thing for you to toy with!" she snapped, her voice rising with a mix of fear and defiance.

Kuon laughed softly, a low, unsettling sound that reverberated in the hollow space. "Oh, [Name]. You’re so much more than that. You're a puzzle, a prize... something worth possessing.” He emphasized the last word, his tone dripping with obsession.

The intensity in his gaze caused her to take a groan in pain, bumping her head onto the altar behind her. She felt the cold marble press against her spine, trapping her. Kuon advanced slowly, savoring her helplessness.

"You can’t run forever," he whispered, his voice almost tender. "Sooner or later, you’ll realize there’s no one else who can protect you. Not your friends, not your roommate, not even Ruka. They're all just distractions. But me? I’ll keep you safe... in my own way."

[Name]’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to think of a way to stall him. "You're wrong," she said, her voice wavering but steady enough to convey conviction. "They care about me. They’re not like you."

Kuon’s expression darkened for a fleeting moment, a shadow passing over his handsome features before a twisted smirk returned, contorting his face into something almost monstrous. “You think you know them so well,” he muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you’ll see. They’re just as selfish as I am—just as hungry for you.” 

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin, sending a shiver down [Name]’s spine. His lips brushed near her ear, and she could feel the weight of his words wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. “I’m just the only one honest enough to admit it.”

[Name] flinched at his words, the cold steel of his twisted logic digging into her psyche like a dagger. Each syllable echoed in her mind, casting shadows over her thoughts and causing her resolve to falter. She struggled to maintain her composure, but the unsettling truth of his statement gnawed at her, chipping away at her defenses.

Kuon’s hand reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His touch was unexpectedly gentle, yet it churned a storm of fear within her. The contrast between his softness and the darkness in his eyes was unnerving, as if he were a predator toying with his prey. 

With a strange mix of tenderness and menace, Kuon slowly knelt down before her, his presence looming as he pried her legs apart. The movement was deliberate, almost reverent, as he took hold of one of her thighs. [Name]’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt the heat radiating from him, a palpable intensity that made her skin crawl. Her body shivered involuntarily, a reaction to the mingled sensations of fear and a strange, helpless vulnerability.

Not a moment longer, Kuon sank his fangs into her thigh, the sharpness of his teeth piercing her flesh with a sudden, excruciating pain. 

A scream erupted from [Name]'s lips, raw and desperate, echoing through the stillness of the night. “Please, stop! Get away from me!” she begged, her voice trembling as she writhed in agony, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, swallowed by the darkness that enveloped them. Kuon was lost in his primal instinct, feasting on her blood with a fervor that sent shockwaves of terror coursing through her. Each gulp he took was a reminder of her helplessness, a stark contrast to the life that was ebbing away from her.

As he savored the rich flavor of her blood, his red eyes glinted with amusement and an obsessive hunger, reflecting a twisted joy that sent chills down her spine. The more he consumed, the more he seemed to revel in the power he wielded over her, as if her suffering was the very essence of his existence. 

[Name] could feel herself slipping away, the darkness creeping in around the edges of her vision, but Kuon remained, a haunting figure of twisted desire and insatiable hunger, consuming both her blood and her very spirit.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors of the church creaked open, the sound reverberating like a thunderclap. Both Kuon and [Name] froze, his head snapping toward the entrance. A dark silhouette stood in the doorway, illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"Step away from her," a low, cold voice commanded, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Kuon’s smirk faded, replaced by a scowl of irritation. "Oh, great. Another hero," he muttered, turning to face the intruder.

[Name]’s breath hitched as she recognized the figure. It was Barou, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light. His expression was unreadable, but the simmering anger beneath the surface was palpable.

"You're interrupting something private," Kuon sneered, his cocky demeanor returning as he crossed his arms. "Why don’t you leave before you get hurt, selfish king?"

Barou stepped forward, his movements deliberate and controlled. "Let her go," he repeated, his tone colder than ice.

Kuon tilted his head, clearly enjoying the challenge. "And if I don’t?" he asked, baring his fangs slightly in a subtle threat.

Barou’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, the air in the room seemed to crackle with tension. "Then you’ll regret it," he said simply.

[Name] watched the standoff with bated breath, her fear momentarily eclipsed by the hope that someone had finally come to her rescue. But the question remained—would Barou be able to protect her from Kuon’s monstrous strength, or was she simply trading one danger for another?

Kuon chuckled, the sound low and mocking, as he stepped away from [Name] with deliberate slowness. "Regret it, huh? Big words, Barou. But let’s see if you can back them up." His fangs glinted as he smirked, his crimson eyes narrowing with amusement and challenge.

[Name] clung to the altar behind her, her knees trembling as she glanced between the two. Barou’s presence was commanding, his aura exuding raw power and authority. But even with him here, the tension between the two vampires was suffocating, their power pressing against her like a physical force.

Barou's expression was sharp, his red eyes boring into Kuon with a mixture of disdain and restrained fury. "Step away from her," he repeated, his voice calm but laced with a deadly edge. His towering figure loomed over the space, a silent promise of retribution.

Kuon sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up as if conceding. "Fine, fine," he drawled, taking a step back. "I’ll let her go… for now." His gaze flicked to [Name], his eyes softening into something disturbingly tender. "But remember, [Name], I’ll always be watching. You can’t hide from me."

Her stomach churned at his words, and she clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid her voice would betray her fear.

As Kuon turned to leave, he paused, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder. "Oh, and Barou? You might have won this little round, but don’t think for a second that this is over. I’m not done with her yet." With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her legs finally giving out as she slumped against the altar. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back, refusing to let the fear consume her.

Barou approached her slowly, his heavy steps reverberating through the hollow church. His sharp eyes softened slightly as he crouched down to her level, his large frame casting a shadow over her. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice gruff but quieter now.

She shook her head, though her body still trembled and exhausted. " I’m… I’m okay," she stammered, avoiding his gaze. "I didn’t think anyone… would come."

Barou’s jaw tightened at her words, his golden eyes flickering with a dangerous light. "You think I’d let that scum get away with this?" he muttered, more to himself than to her. His tone was low, but the anger in his voice was unmistakable. "Ruka wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t step in. And neither would I."

Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of her cousin. Of course, this was Ruka’s doing—his way of keeping her “protected.” But Barou's tone held something more than obligation; there was an undercurrent of personal resolve.

"He’s not going to stop, is he?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Barou exhaled sharply, his frown deepening. "No," he admitted bluntly. "But that doesn’t mean you have to deal with him on your own." He glanced away, his expression tightening. "You’re under my watch now. No one’s touching you—not Kuon, not anyone."

[Name] blinked up at him, her lips parting slightly in surprise. Despite his gruff demeanor, his words brought a small measure of comfort, a flicker of hope in the midst of her fear.

Barou stood and extended his hand to her. His large palm hovered in front of her, steady and resolute. "Come on," he said. "Let’s get you out of here."

Hesitating only for a moment, [Name] took his hand. His grip was firm, grounding her as he helped her to her feet. Standing beside him, she felt dwarfed by his presence, but for the first time that night, she didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.

As they walked out of the church, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over the ruins, [Name] couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Barou. His silence was heavy, his focus locked straight ahead, but his protective stance gave her a strange sense of security.

A question nagged at her, though. "Barou," she murmured hesitantly, "how did you know where I was?"

He didn’t look at her, his gaze still fixed forward. "I didn’t," he replied gruffly. "Ruka’s been keeping tabs on you, and I’ve been keeping tabs on him. When I heard Kuon was lurking nearby, it wasn’t hard to figure out the rest."

Her lips parted in surprise, but no words came out. She looked down, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her skirt. "Thank you," she said softly. "I mean it. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come."

Barou stopped walking, turning to look at her with an unreadable expression. "You’re safe now," he said simply. "That’s all that matters."

As they continued down the quiet streets, Barou’s towering presence beside her, [Name] felt the weight of the night’s events begin to lift—if only slightly. But deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the quiet cooking club room, casting a soft glow on the polished counters and neatly arranged utensils. [Name] stood at the sink, humming quietly to herself as she washed the last of the dishes. The aroma of freshly made takoyaki lingered in the air—a comforting blend of savory batter, octopus, and a hint of seaweed.

The club room was hers today, a rare escape from the chaos of her usual life. Sundays meant no official club activities, which gave her free rein to cook to her heart's content. Today, takoyaki had been on her mind, and she'd spent the last hour perfecting the crisp yet tender spheres, carefully plating them with drizzle patterns of sauce and mayonnaise.

The peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open behind her. [Name] paused, her hands still submerged in soapy water, and glanced over her shoulder.

Standing in the doorway was none other than Eita Otoya. He leaned against the doorframe with a casual confidence, his sharp, fox-like features accentuated by his ever-present smirk. His white hair  with green bang was slightly tousled, giving him a roguish sly charm that he undoubtedly used to his advantage.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Eita drawled as he stepped inside, his voice smooth and playful. "I didn’t think anyone would be in today, but I guess I’ve been blessed with some unexpected company."

[Name] blinked in surprise before offering a polite smile. "Oh, Otoya. I didn’t expect anyone else either. Just… cleaning up after cooking."

Eita’s smirk widened as he approached, his hands slipping casually into his pockets. "Cooking, huh? Let me guess—you made something amazing, didn’t you? It smells too good for it to be anything else."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the dishes. "I made takoyaki. Nothing fancy."

"Takoyaki?" Eita repeated, feigning astonishment. "Come on, [Name], don’t sell yourself short. Knowing you, it’s probably the best takoyaki anyone’s ever tasted."

[Name]’s cheeks warmed slightly at the compliment, though she quickly brushed it off. "I wouldn’t go that far. I was just experimenting with the recipe."

Eita leaned against the counter beside her, his sharp eyes watching her intently as she worked. "Experimenting or not, I’d bet money it’s better than anything I could make." He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. "You know, you could always teach me. I wouldn’t mind a private cooking lesson from someone as talented—and cute—as you."

[Name] glanced at him, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "You? Cooking? I can’t imagine you having the patience for it."

"Hey, I’m a quick learner," Eita said with a playful grin, placing a hand over his heart as though wounded by her doubt. "Especially if it means spending more time with you."

Her smile widened slightly, though she rolled her eyes at his attempt to charm her. "You’re impossible."

Eita chuckled, clearly pleased that he’d managed to draw a reaction out of her. His attention shifted to the counter, where the plate of takoyaki sat neatly arranged. His eyes lit up as he reached out and plucked one of the golden-brown spheres from the plate.

"These look amazing," he said, holding up the takoyaki as if appraising it. Then, with a sudden idea, he turned back to [Name], the smirk returning to his face. "Say ‘ah.’"

She blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. "What?"

"You heard me," Eita said, stepping closer and holding the takoyaki out toward her. "Come on, let me feed you. It’s only fair—I mean, you made these, right? You deserve the first bite."

[Name] hesitated, her cheeks flushing slightly at the forwardness of his actions. "I… I can eat it myself, you know," she said, attempting to deflect his playful gesture.

"But where’s the fun in that?" he teased, leaning in just enough to make the distance between them feel charged. His tone was light, but his gaze was sharp, studying her reaction with an almost predatory curiosity. "Come on, [Name]. Just humor me a little."

She sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to give up so easily. Reluctantly, she leaned forward and took a small bite of the takoyaki he held out. The savory flavors melted on her tongue, and she had to admit it was pretty good.

"See?" Eita said triumphantly, his grin widening as he pulled the rest of the takoyaki back and popped it into his own mouth. "Delicious. Just like I thought. You really are talented, [Name]."

She shook her head, half amused and half exasperated by his antics. "You’re ridiculous, Otoya. But thanks, I guess."

He leaned against the counter, his expression softening slightly as he watched her. "You know, I don’t get why you don’t join us more often. You’re way more fun to hang out with than half the people I know."

[Name] raised an eyebrow at him, her skepticism clear. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"It’s the truth," he said, his tone surprisingly earnest. But then, true to form, his smirk returned. "Besides, it’s not every day I get to see someone so cute getting all flustered."

[Name] rolled her eyes again, though she couldn’t completely hide the small smile that tugged at her lips. For all his shameless flirting, Eita’s company wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, with Eita occasionally sneaking more takoyaki from the plate and [Name] half-heartedly scolding him for it. Though she wasn’t completely swayed by his charm, there was something oddly relaxing about his presence—like a distraction from the chaos that had defined her life recently.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting warm hues across the club room, [Name] found herself grateful for the moment of normalcy, however fleeting it might be.

The comfortable rhythm of their conversation continued as Eita leaned lazily against the counter, his fox-like grin never wavering. [Name], still skeptical of his intentions but amused by his antics, picked up another takoyaki from the plate with her chopsticks.

“Alright, your turn,” Eita said, pointing at her with a playful gleam in his eyes.

[Name] raised an eyebrow. “My turn for what?”

“To feed me,” he replied smoothly, crossing his arms as though the idea was entirely natural. “I fed you, so it’s only fair you return the favor, don’t you think?”

[Name] stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Eita’s grin widened, his tone carrying a mock innocence. “Come on, [Name]. Don’t leave me hanging. It’s only fair.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “You’re unbelievable. Fine, but don’t make this weird.”

Eita’s smirk deepened as she begrudgingly raised the takoyaki to his mouth. He leaned forward slightly, biting into it with a satisfied hum. “Delicious. But you know what makes it even better?”

“What?” she asked, already regretting indulging him.

“The fact that you’re the one feeding me,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing lilt.

[Name] rolled her eyes, setting the chopsticks back on the counter. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Before she could grab another piece of takoyaki, Eita suddenly reached for [Name]’s hand with a speed that left her breathless. His movements were smooth and deliberate, an elegant predator in a world that had suddenly narrowed down to just the two of them. He pulled her toward him, and the sudden shift caught her off guard, causing her to stumble slightly. Her free hand instinctively landed on his chest, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his shirt, and their faces drew alarmingly close.

“O-Otoya!” she stammered, her voice a mix of surprise and annoyance, her heart racing in a wild rhythm against her ribcage. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur that seemed to envelop her like a shroud. His fingers gently tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, sharp and sly, held a glint of something deeper—something calculating that sent a shiver down her spine.

Before she could fully comprehend his intentions, Eita leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her skin. 

The world around them faded into a background hum as he closed the distance, and she could feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“You’ve been so tempting, [Name],” he whispered, his voice laced with a mix of desire and something darker. “I’ve waited too long for this moment.”

Panic surged within her as she realized what was about to happen. “No! Otoya, don’t!” she pleaded, trying to pull away, but his grip on her wrist tightened, anchoring her in place. 

The playful facade he wore melted away, revealing a hunger that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

In an instant, Eita sank his teeth into her flesh, the sharpness of his fangs piercing her skin with a sudden, brutal force. A gasp escaped her lips, quickly morphing into a cry of agony as pain shot through her throat. 

The sensation was a jarring mix of searing pain and an overwhelming rush of vulnerability as he began to drink her blood, his lips curling around the wound as he savored the taste.

[Name] struggled against him, her instincts screaming for her to escape. She kicked her legs, trying to push him away, but he was relentless, his strength far surpassing her own.

 “Let me go!” she cried, the desperation in her voice rising as she felt the warmth of her life ebbing away. But her pleas were met with silence, swallowed by the intensity of his feeding.

Eita drank deeply, his eyes closing in pure ecstasy, a low growl emanating from his throat as he reveled in the warmth of her blood. Each gulp sent waves of weakness coursing through her body, and she felt herself slipping. 

The world around her blurred, the vibrant colors dimming as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.

“[Name],” he murmured between drinks, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You taste even better than I imagined. I want you” 

With each word, the weight of his obsession pressed down on her, suffocating and intoxicating all at once. She felt a mix of despair and confusion, her body betraying her as she fought to stay conscious. 

But with every heartbeat, Eita’s hold on her tightened, and she could feel the pull of oblivion beckoning her closer.

For a moment, [Name] froze, her breath catching as his expression softened into something almost tender. Yet, the sly edge to his grin remained. “You know, [Name],” he began, his voice low and smooth, “you really don’t realize how beautiful you are, do you?”

She blinked, heat rising to her cheeks as she quickly tried to push him away. “Otoya, stop it. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, his grip firm but not forceful. “I’m being completely serious here.”

“Otoya—”

He cut her off again, his voice turning playful. “You have no idea, do you? How much competition I have?”

“Competition?” [Name] repeated, her brow furrowing. “What are you even talking about?”

Eita chuckled, the sound low and almost predatory. “You’re seriously clueless, aren’t you? Do you know how many guys are after you, [Name]? The New Generation 11? Every single one of them.”

[Name]’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Wait—what?”

“Not just them,” he continued, his tone becoming more intense, as if he were listing off names for dramatic effect. “The U-20 team, too. Even Hiori, your childhood best friend, and Karasu, your precious senpai. They’re all in love with you. You’re like… this impossible prize everyone’s fighting for.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. The weight of his statement left her stunned, her mind racing to process the absurdity of it all.

Eita took advantage of her momentary silence, leaning in even closer until their faces were mere inches apart. His voice softened into a whisper, dripping with false sweetness. “But none of them can appreciate you like I do, [Name]. None of them can make you feel like I can.”

Before she could respond, Eita closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a sudden, forceful kiss that sent shockwaves through her entire being. The world around them faded into a blur as the warmth of his mouth enveloped hers, igniting a fire that pooled low in her stomach.

[Name]’s eyes widened in shock, her hands instinctively pressing against his chest, trying to push him away. But Eita held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with practiced ease. There was a raw intensity in his touch, a confidence that was both thrilling and terrifying. The warmth of his breath mingled with hers, each exhale a tantalizing invitation that overwhelmed her senses.

Panic surged through her as she struggled against him, her mind racing with a mixture of indignation and bewilderment. “Otoya, stop—” she managed to gasp, but he was relentless, his mouth claiming hers with an urgency that left her breathless. 

The kiss was a whirlwind of sensations; the softness of his lips contrasted sharply with the firm way he held her, as if he were marking his territory. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the undeniable chemistry crackling in the air around them. It was intoxicating, yet it sent a jolt of rebellion coursing through her veins. How dare he?

When he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, though his gaze was more intense now, a spark of possessiveness lighting his sharp eyes. “See? No one else can get this close to you, can they?” His voice was low, dripping with a mix of triumph and challenge that made her pulse race.

[Name]'s hand shot up, wiping her lips as she glared at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and something she refused to acknowledge. “You’re unbelievable! How dare you—”

“Relax,” he interrupted, raising his hands in mock surrender, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained, infuriating her further. “It was just a kiss. Nothing to get so worked up about.” 

She stepped back, desperately trying to put some much-needed distance between them as she fought to steady her racing heart. “You’re out of your mind, Otoya!”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a casual shrug, his grin unwavering. “But at least I’m honest about how I feel. Can any of the others say the same?” 

[Name] didn’t respond, her mind too clouded with frustration and confusion to come up with a retort. The air around them felt charged, electric with a tension that lingered like a storm ready to break. It was a heady mix of anger, attraction, and the undeniable connection that seemed to draw them together despite her better judgment.

Eita finally stepped back, giving her space as he casually grabbed another piece of takoyaki from the plate. “Thanks for the snack, [Name]. You’ve got talent, both in cooking and… other areas.” He winked, popping the takoyaki into his mouth with a playful flourish, the casualness of his demeanor contrasting sharply with the intensity of their earlier exchange.

Before leaving, he glanced over his shoulder, his smirk softening into something more genuine—though no less mischievous. “Think about what I said, okay?” His words lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the kiss and the implications behind it, and that terrible blood sucking. How. Dare. He.

And with that, he was gone, leaving [Name] standing in the club room, her emotions a whirlwind of confusion, saddened, and an undeniable anger that she couldn’t quite name. The taste of him still lingered on her lips, a reminder of the moment that had shaken her to her core, and as she leaned against the wall, her heart raced with the realization that things could never be the same again.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The cooking club room felt stifling now. The air seemed heavier, and [Name]’s thoughts swirled like a storm. Eita’s words replayed in her head, his confident smirk etched in her memory.

"You have no idea… how much competition I have. The New Gen 11… U-20… even Hiori and Karasu…"

She huffed, shaking her head as she walked down the hallway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet building. “He’s just trying to get under my skin,” she muttered to herself, gripping her bag tightly. “There’s no way. He can’t be serious.”

But despite her attempts to dismiss his claims, a seed of doubt lingered. Could it be true? Did so many people really feel that way about her? And if they did, why hadn’t she noticed?

“I need some air,” she said aloud, her voice firm as if to push her doubts away. The rooftop had always been her refuge—a place where she could think clearly without interruptions.

Reaching the staircase, [Name] ascended quickly, her mind still clouded. She pushed open the heavy metal door to the rooftop, the fresh breeze instantly greeting her. The scent of autumn leaves lingered in the air, and the city skyline stretched out before her.

The rooftop was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the occasional rustle of wind. [Name] walked over to the edge, placing her hands on the cool metal railing as she let out a sigh.

“Ridiculous,” she said under her breath. “As if half the world is obsessed with me. Otoya’s full of himself.” She shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I shouldn’t have let him get to me.”

Just as she closed her eyes, trying to center her thoughts, a sound broke through the silence.

It was deep, smooth, and hauntingly beautiful—a hum that resonated through the air like the call of an ethereal being.

[Name] froze, her breath catching. The melody carried a strange allure, tugging at something deep within her. It was unlike anything she’d heard before, yet it felt oddly familiar.

“Is someone… singing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the haunting tune. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the empty rooftop.

No one was there.

The melody continued, weaving through the air like silk, growing more mesmerizing with every passing second. It felt almost otherworldly, as if it didn’t belong to this realm.

[Name] stepped away from the railing, her heart pounding. The hum seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once, enveloping her in its mysterious embrace.

“Who’s there?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly.

The sound stopped.

A sudden silence fell over the rooftop, so absolute it made the air feel heavier. [Name]’s pulse quickened as she glanced around, her eyes darting to every corner of the space.

She walked slowly, her shoes clicking softly against the concrete as she searched for the source. “Hello?” she called again, her voice echoing faintly. “Is someone here?”

Nothing.

Her brow furrowed. She could’ve sworn someone had been there—someone just out of sight. The sound had been so clear, so close, yet there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

“Am I imagining things?” she muttered to herself, her voice shaky. “It felt so real…”

Her eyes landed on a shadow near the far corner of the rooftop. It was fleeting, barely perceptible, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She took a step closer, but when she reached the spot, there was nothing there.

“Great. Now I’m seeing things,” she said, trying to steady her breathing.

Still, the hum lingered in her mind, its haunting beauty etched into her memory. It wasn’t something she could simply dismiss. It felt like a call—like whoever, or whatever, had been there wanted her attention.

But why?

Shaking her head, [Name] stepped back toward the railing, gripping it tightly as she tried to make sense of the situation. The wind picked up, ruffling her hair as she stared out at the horizon.

“I need to stop overthinking,” she told herself firmly. “It’s probably just the wind or… or something stupid like that.”

And yet, deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

As she turned to leave the rooftop, her steps hesitant, she cast one last glance over her shoulder. The space was empty, the stillness almost unsettling.

But as she reached the door, she thought she heard it again—a faint, lingering note, as if the melody was bidding her farewell.

[Name] paused, her hand on the doorknob. For a moment, she considered staying, waiting to see if the mysterious presence would reveal itself.

Instead, she shook her head and opened the door. “I’m just imagining things,” she whispered, stepping into the stairwell. “That’s all it is.”

As the door closed behind her, the rooftop fell silent once more, the haunting hum fading into the wind as if it had never been there.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was quiet, save for the faint rustle of pages being turned and the occasional soft hum of the air conditioning. [Name] walked through the rows of bookshelves, her bag slung over her shoulder and a determined look on her face. Tomorrow was the start of exams, and despite her confidence in most subjects, history loomed over her like a shadow. It wasn’t her strongest suit, and the thought of it threatened to ruin her plans for a carefree fall break.

She found an empty desk near the back of the library, away from prying eyes, and set down her things. The desk quickly filled with books—massive, intimidating tomes about wars, treaties, and ancient civilizations. “Alright,” she muttered to herself, cracking open the first book. “Let’s do this.”

For the first hour, her focus was sharp. She jotted down notes, underlined important details, and tested herself on key dates. But by the second hour, the words on the pages started to blur. [Name] yawned, covering her mouth as her eyes watered slightly. “No, no, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Stay awake. You have to get through this.”

She stretched her arms over her head, twisting her neck to the side to loosen the stiffness setting into her shoulders. The peaceful silence of the library made it harder to stay alert, and she found herself stifling yet another yawn.

Just as she rubbed her eyes and tried to refocus, a shadow fell across her desk.

“You look like you’re drowning in history,” a familiar voice teased.

[Name] blinked up, her vision adjusting to see Reo standing there, a charming smile playing on his lips. His violet eyes gleamed with curiosity as he looked at the mountain of books surrounding her. He was dressed casually, his blazer slung over one shoulder, but he still had an air of effortless elegance about him.

“Reo?” she asked, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I was passing by and saw you through the window,” he explained, pulling out the chair opposite her and sitting down. “Thought I’d check in. You looked pretty intense.” He glanced at her stack of books and raised an eyebrow. “History, huh? That bad?”

[Name] let out a small laugh, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s just say it’s not my favorite. I’m fine, though—just tired.”

Reo rested his chin on his hand, studying her carefully. “You sure? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

She waved him off, offering a tired smile. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I just need to power through a bit longer.”

Reo smirked, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed. “You’ve got a strong will, I’ll give you that. I don’t think I’d survive if I had to study all of… this.” He gestured vaguely at the pile of books.

“Believe me, I don’t want to,” [Name] admitted, tapping her pen against her notebook. “But I need to pass this exam. I’m not letting history ruin my fall break.”

Reo chuckled, his laughter light and melodic. “Fair enough. So, after exams, any big plans for your precious fall break?”

She shook her head, a small shrug accompanying the motion. “Not really. Just want to relax and maybe catch up on some shows. Nothing too exciting.”

Reo tilted his head, his violet eyes narrowing slightly as a sly smile spread across his face. “Well, in that case, how about you hang out with me and Nagi? We’ve got tickets to Central Point Tower, but he decided to ditch at the last minute, so I’ve got an extra spot. It’d be fun.”

[Name] blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. “Central Point Tower? Isn’t that the fancy new observation deck downtown?”

“Exactly,” Reo said, leaning forward slightly. “It’s got everything—an amazing view, great food, and even a VR game section. It’d be a shame to let the extra ticket go to waste.”

She hesitated, glancing at her notes before meeting his expectant gaze. Despite her initial reluctance, she found herself nodding. “Alright, I’ll go. Sounds like fun.”

Reo’s smile widened, his satisfaction evident. “Good choice. You won’t regret it.” He stood up, smoothing out his blazer. “Now, I’ll let you get back to your history dump of knowledge. Good luck, [Name].”

“Thanks,” she said, waving as he walked away. “See you after exams.”

He gave her a casual salute before disappearing around the corner, leaving her alone once more.

[Name] exhaled, a faint smile lingering on her lips. Reo’s visit had been unexpected, but it had lifted her spirits. She turned back to her books, feeling a bit more energized as she resumed her studies.

But even as she tried to focus on the intricacies of historical events, her mind occasionally wandered to his invitation. ‘Central Point Tower, huh? It might be a nice change of pace after all the stress of exams.’

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The classroom was filled with the quiet rustling of papers and the faint hum of the overhead lights. [Name] sat at her desk, her brows furrowed in concentration as she worked through her Mathematics exam. The equations sprawled across the pages before her, each one demanding her full attention. She carefully wrote out her work, glancing occasionally at her calculator to ensure every number was precise. Her pen moved swiftly but methodically, the sound of it scratching against the paper blending into the background noise of other students doing the same.

[Name]’s mind was laser-focused, her heart steady. This was one subject she had prepared extensively for, having spent the morning drilling formulas and problem-solving techniques into her brain. Still, she double-checked every answer, unwilling to leave anything to chance.

The large digital clock on the board buzzed, signaling the end of the exam period. Mr. Lavinho’s authoritative voice cut through the silence. “Alright, time’s up. Pencils down, everyone.”

A collective groan erupted across the room as students reluctantly set their pencils aside.

“Finally,” Kira Ryosuke muttered, leaning back in his chair with a relieved sigh. He ran a hand through his sandy hair, glancing at [Name]. “That was brutal. At least the first part is over.”

[Name] exhaled deeply, the tension in her shoulders easing as she placed her pencil on the desk. “Yeah,” she agreed softly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “But it wasn’t as bad as I thought. Studying this morning helped a lot.”

Across the room, Gagamaru Gin had his head down on his desk, his hair tied messily around him. He groaned loudly, muffled against the surface of his table. “Math is not my strong suite” He spoke monotonous way.

“Math isn’t supposed to be your friend,” [Name] teased gently, packing up her calculator and notebook. “It’s just supposed to make sense.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t,” Gagamaru retorted, lifting his head slightly to eye at her, though his expression was more pitiful than intimidating.

Mr. Lavinho began walking between the rows of desks, collecting exams from each student. His cheerful yet commanding presence lightened the tense atmosphere. “Good work today, everyone. I know Mathematics can be a tough one, but I’m proud of the effort I saw. Keep it up for the rest of the week, alright?”

His words elicited a mix of grumbles and murmured thanks from the class. [Name] felt a small flicker of relief at his encouragement.

Kira stretched his arms over his head, letting out a groan of his own. “One down, seven to go,” he said, his voice filled with exhaustion but also a hint of optimism. “I just hope the Business exam isn’t as bad as this.”

[Name] glanced at her schedule in her planner, confirming the next exam. Business wasn’t her favorite subject, but she felt confident enough in her preparation. “At least it’s multiple choice,” she offered, trying to sound reassuring.

“That’s what they always say,” Gagamaru interjected, slumping further into his seat. “But then you get hit with all those ‘choose the best answer’ questions. It’s a trap, I’m telling you.”

[Name] chuckled softly at his theatrics, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. “You’ll survive. You always do.”

“Barely,” he mumbled, finally sitting up straight. His eyes glanced toward the clock. “When’s the next exam?”

Kira checked his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. “We’ve got about fifteen minutes. Enough time to stretch or grab some water.”

[Name] stood, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her materials. “I’m going to head to the vending machine. I need something to keep me going.”

“Grab me a water?” Gagamaru called after her.

[Name] turned back briefly, nodding with a small smile. “Sure thing.”

As she made her way out of the classroom, she overheard snippets of conversations from her classmates. Some were venting about tricky questions, others were already moving on to discussing the next test. The tension in the air was palpable, but [Name] allowed herself a moment to enjoy the temporary reprieve.

The vending machine stood in the corner of the hallway, and [Name] carefully inserted a few coins, punching the buttons for a bottle of green tea and a sports drink for Gagamaru. As the drinks clunked into the tray below, she exhaled softly.

“Just one down,” she muttered to herself, gripping the bottles tightly. “I can handle this.”

With renewed determination, she returned to the classroom, ready to tackle Economical Biology head-on.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The atmosphere in the classroom was tense as the students tackled their Economical Biology exams. [Name] sat at her desk, her pen moving steadily as she filled in the blanks with precise answers. This section relied heavily on memory and understanding of key definitions, and she thanked her early-morning study sessions for her confidence. Each question seemed like a test of focus and clarity, but [Name] remained composed, jotting down her explanations for the biology problems in detailed, neat handwriting.

To her left, Aryu Jyubei wrote with a flourish, his pen gliding across the paper as though the exam was a work of art. Every motion of his wrist exuded elegance, and even while answering scientific questions, he maintained an air of sophistication.

To her right, however, Isagi Yoichi was visibly struggling. His brows were knit in frustration as he stared at the fill-in-the-blank section. His pen hovered uncertainly above the page before retreating to scratch his head, and he muttered to himself as he tried to recall the definitions that seemed just out of reach.

Ms. Bogdanova loomed at the front of the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over the students like a hawk searching for prey. The stern look in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t tolerating any distractions or wandering eyes. She crossed her arms and leaned against the teacher's desk, her presence alone enough to keep everyone glued to their own papers.

[Name] finished her exam a few minutes before the timer beeped but didn’t immediately set her pen down. Instead, she meticulously went through each question, double-checking her answers and making sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. Satisfied that everything was accounted for, she leaned back slightly, allowing herself a small moment of relief.

As the timer on the board beeped, Ms. Bogdanova’s voice cut through the silence. “Time is up. Pens down.”

There was a collective exhale as students reluctantly put their pens aside. Aryu leaned back in his chair, stretching with a graceful motion that somehow made even exhaustion look stylish. “Ah, the exam is over,” he said with a content sigh. “Not bad. My answers were as perfect as my hair.”

[Name] chuckled softly, appreciating his flair even in a stressful situation. She packed up her materials while glancing at Yoichi, who looked far less relieved. He groaned, slumping forward onto his desk with a defeated sigh.

“I didn’t even finish,” Yoichi mumbled, staring despondently at his partially blank exam paper as Ms. Bogdanova began collecting them. “Why do they have to make these so long?”

[Name] offered him a kind smile. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. You can always finish it on Friday during the make-up session.”

Yoichi looked up at her, his expression still glum but slightly less so. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, [Name].”

Aryu, ever the picture of poise, chimed in. “Indeed, Isagii-kun. A temporary stumble does not define your elegance. You’ll recover splendidly, I’m sure.”

Yoichi blinked at him, not entirely sure how to respond to that, but eventually nodded. “Uh… thanks, Aryu.”

With the exams collected and the second part of the day officially over, the students began gathering their belongings. The energy in the room shifted from tense to relaxed as the realization that they were free for the day set in.

[Name] slung her bag over her shoulder, stretching her arms to shake off the stiffness of sitting for so long. “Two down, six to go,” she said lightly, her tone filled with cautious optimism.

Yoichi managed a small smile. “Let’s just hope tomorrow’s subjects are kinder.”

“Psychology and History,” [Name] mused, already mentally preparing for another long night of reviewing. “It could be worse.”

Aryu adjusted his scarf with a flourish, smiling as if exams were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “No matter the challenge, always face it with style. Now, I’m off to reward myself with a protein smoothie. Farewell!”

As Aryu glided out of the room, Yoichi shook his head, amused despite himself. “That guy really doesn’t change, does he?”

[Name] laughed softly, waving goodbye to both boys as she made her way out of the classroom. The day wasn’t over, but for now, she allowed herself a moment of peace, knowing she had done her best.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft hum of the vending machines filled the quiet campus gift shop as [Name] stood in front of the soda display, deciding between a lemon-lime soda or an iced tea. Her throat felt parched after the day’s exams, and she needed something refreshing. Finally settling on the soda, she grabbed one and turned to see Nijiro by her side, cradling a bottle of peach-flavored water in his hand.

“Want me to grab one for you too?” [Name] asked, smiling.

Nijiro blinked, caught off guard by her offer, before sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, uh… you don’t have to.”

“Come on, it’s no big deal,” she said with a grin, heading to the counter. Nijiro followed closely, offering a quiet thanks as [Name] paid for both their drinks.

As they walked out of the shop, cracking open their bottles, Nijiro took a long sip before letting out a sigh. “AP English today? It was brutal. Some of those essay prompts made my head spin.”

[Name] tilted her head sympathetically. “It was tough, but you’ve got a good grasp of analysis, Nanase. I’m sure you did great.”

He chuckled nervously, glancing at her. “I don’t know about that, but thanks. I mean, compared to you, I probably bombed it. You make everything look so easy.”

[Name] laughed, shaking her head. “Trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks. And tomorrow’s going to be rough. History is… not my strong suit.”

Nijiro frowned, sensing the worry in her voice. He took a moment to think before smiling softly. “You’ve got this, [Name]. Seriously. You’re one of the hardest-working people I know. History doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

She glanced at him, his genuine encouragement warming her nerves slightly. “Thanks, Nanase. I needed that.”

As they continued down the pathway, sipping their drinks, the two chatted lightly about the exams and their plans for the upcoming fall break. The day had taken on a calm, almost peaceful rhythm—until they were interrupted.

A tall figure blocked their path, and both [Name] and Nijiro stopped in their tracks. Standing before them, with an unnerving grin spread across his face, was Don Lorenzo.

“Ah, it's the little rabbit,” Lorenzo drawled, his deep voice filled with mockery and amusement. His golden grills linted in the sunlight as he tilted his head, observing her like a predator studying its prey.

[Name] felt an icy chill crawl down her spine as her grip tightened around her soda bottle. Nijiro, sensing her unease, shifted slightly closer to her, his brows furrowing.

Lorenzo’s grin widened as he took a step forward, his eyes flickering between the two of them. “Finally, we meet. I’ve been dying to see the girl who’s got everyone so... enchanted.”

“What do you want, Lorenzo?” [Name] asked, her voice steady despite the unease bubbling inside her.

Lorenzo didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached out, casually taking a strand of her long black hair between his fingers. “You know, you’re quite the enigma, [Name]. This hair, this scent—” he leaned in slightly, inhaling dramatically, “—no wonder everyone’s losing their minds over you.”

[Name] froze, her discomfort visible in the way she stiffened. Nijiro, standing beside her, stepped in almost instinctively, moving to shield her from Lorenzo.

“Hey, back off,” Nijiro said firmly, his usually soft demeanor replaced with surprising determination. “She’s clearly uncomfortable.”

Lorenzo’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew sharper, more sinister. He dropped [Name]’s hair and turned his full attention to Nijiro, mockingly clapping his hands. “Oh, look at you. Playing the hero. How noble.”

Nijiro didn’t back down, keeping himself between [Name] and Lorenzo. “I’m just looking out for my friend.”

“Friend, huh?” Lorenzo sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. “How cute. But let’s not pretend you’re anything more than a little sidekick, Little Hero. Do you really think you can keep her safe from people like me? Or Ruka? Or the rest of us?”

[Name] had heard enough. Her patience snapped as she grabbed Nijiro’s hand and started walking away, pulling him with her. “Come on, Nanase. Let’s go.”

Lorenzo didn’t stop them, but his laughter followed them down the path, dark and unsettling. “Run along, little rabbit. But don’t think this is over, [Name]. You and I, we’ll have our time.”

[Name] didn’t look back, her hand tightening around Nijiro’s as they hurried away. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just from Lorenzo’s words but from the way he had looked at her—as if she were something to be owned, to be broken.

Nijiro, sensing her distress, spoke gently. “Are you okay? I should’ve done more back there…”

“You did enough,” [Name] said, her voice soft but resolute. She let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. “Let’s just… let’s just stay away from him. From all of them.”

Nijiro nodded, his own unease clear in the way he glanced over his shoulder. Lorenzo might’ve let them go for now, but there was no mistaking the predatory hunger in his gaze. It wasn’t over.

Nanase Nijiro called after [Name], his pace quickening to catch up. “Wait, [Name]! Are you okay?” His voice was gentle, but concern laced his tone. He could see the tension in her shoulders as she walked ahead, gripping her soda tightly in one hand.

When she didn’t respond, he slowed his approach, not wanting to overwhelm her. But as he got closer, he noticed her trembling. “[Name]…” He stepped in front of her path, only to see the tears silently streaking down her cheeks.

“[Name]…” he said again, softer this time, his voice breaking with sympathy. He instinctively placed a hand on her shoulder, only for her to shake her head and look away, unable to meet his gaze.

Nijiro’s heart ached. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said gently. “You don’t have to say anything right now.” Without hesitation, he pulled her into a comforting hug, wrapping his arms around her as if shielding her from the world. [Name] stiffened at first but then sank into his embrace, her quiet sobs muffled against his chest.

“I hate it…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I hate how people treat me. Like I’m… like I’m some kind of prize to be won.”

Nijiro clenched his fists behind her, his jaw tightening. “You’re not a prize,” he said firmly, his voice filled with conviction. He pulled back slightly, enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. “You’re [Name]. You’re kind, hardworking, and strong—stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”

She sniffled, looking up at him through her glasses. “I don’t feel strong.”

“You are,” Nijiro said with a small smile, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears with his thumb. “You’re standing tall despite all of this, aren’t you? That’s strength. And if it ever gets too heavy to carry alone, I’ll be here to help you.”

His words seemed to calm her, and she nodded, her grip on her drink loosening. Nijiro’s heart swelled with relief, though a pang of guilt followed. He’d always admired her—loved her, even—but he knew he couldn’t compete with the others vying for her attention. Still, seeing her like this, all he wanted was to protect her.

“Come on,” he said, forcing a lightness into his tone. “Let’s get out of here. How about we go to the garden? You could use some peace after… all that.”

[Name] hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice still shaky but steadier now.

Nijiro smiled and held out his hand. She took it, her fingers wrapping around him hesitantly. Together, they walked away, leaving the tension of the moment behind.

But unbeknownst to them, Alexis Ness stood in the shadows, his phone raised, recording every second of their interaction. His lips curled into a smirk as he stopped the video. “Interesting…” he muttered, tucking his phone away. His mind was already racing with the possibilities of how to use this newfound piece of information.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

[Name] Sanzuku sat at her desk in the Psychology exam room, her pencil gliding smoothly across the paper as she worked through the written responses. The test covered everything from identifying psychological terms and parts of the brain to analyzing how humans react to various scenarios. Each question sparked confidence in her; she’d spent the last few weeks ensuring she understood the material.

She paused for a moment, tapping her pencil against her chin as she reviewed one of her answers about the limbic system’s role in emotional regulation. Satisfied with her reasoning, she moved on to the next question.

To her right, she could hear the faint muttering of Tokimitsu. He was hunched over his paper, his pencil scribbling furiously while he mumbled under his breath.

“C-come on, Aoishi. You studied for this,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand trembled slightly as he worked through the problem, his nervous energy filling the air.

[Name] glanced at him, her expression softening. Poor guy, she thought. He’s so hard on himself.

On her left sat Itsuki, his typically calm demeanor strained by the exhaustion etched into his face. The dark circles under his eyes made it clear he’d been up all night studying. Yet, his focus never wavered, his pencil moving methodically as he tackled each question with precision. [Name] admired his determination, though she wished he’d taken better care of himself.

Her eyes wandered further down the rows of desks, spotting Kenyu Yukimiya sitting near the back. He had already finished his exam and was now engrossed in a book, his posture relaxed as if this was just another day for him. His calm aura was almost enviable. Nearby, Reo Mikage was also done with his test, though he wasn’t relaxing. Instead, he was jotting something in a notebook, his brow furrowed in thought. [Name] could only imagine he was strategizing or planning something, as usual.

The timer on the board ticked down, and [Name] turned her attention back to her paper. She carefully rechecked each of her answers, scanning for any mistakes or questions she might’ve overlooked.

When she was sure everything was in order, she put her pencil down and let out a quiet sigh of relief. One exam down, and she felt good about it.

A few minutes later, the timer buzzed, signaling the end of the exam.

“All right, pencils down!” Mr. Luna announced, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. “Pass your exams forward, please.”

[Name] collected the papers from her row and handed them to the student in front of her. As the exams were gathered, she leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms overhead.

Tokimitsu let out a shaky sigh beside her, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Oh man… I think I messed up on, like, half of that,” he muttered anxiously.

“You probably did better than you think,” [Name] said encouragingly. “You always overthink things, Tokimitsu.”

“I-I guess… but still…” He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unconvinced.

On her other side, Itsuki closed his exam booklet and leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know if I’m relieved or just running on fumes,” he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion.

“You need sleep,” [Name] said pointedly. “You’re going to burn out if you keep this up.”

“I’ll sleep when the exams are over,” Itsuki replied with a faint smile.

[Name] shook her head but couldn’t help smiling back. “Just don’t collapse before then.”

As the students began to file out of the room, [Name] gathered her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. She cast one last glance at Yukimiya, who gave her a polite nod before returning to his book, and at Reo, who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

With her spirits lifted by the sense of accomplishment, she headed for the door, ready to tackle the next challenge that awaited her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The library was a quiet sanctuary in the heart of the bustling academy, its towering shelves filled with books that whispered of history, science, and imagination. [Name] Sanzuku sat at one of the farthest tables, her red glasses perched delicately on her nose as she scanned the open textbook in front of her. Her notes were spread out in a chaotic, yet strangely organized manner, and her fingers occasionally tapped the side of her pen against the table as she tried to commit the endless stream of dates and events to memory.

Her heterochromatic eyes moved swiftly across the page, absorbing every word. The faint smell of aged paper and the hum of the library’s air conditioning created a calming backdrop, one that momentarily masked her rising anxiety over the upcoming history exam.

Suddenly, her phone vibrated, a low buzz breaking the tranquil silence. Startled, [Name] fumbled to grab it, nearly knocking over a stack of flashcards. She glanced at the screen: Incoming Call - Koji. Her heart softened, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Koji?” she whispered, answering the call and holding the phone close to her ear.

“Hey Sis!” came her little brother’s surprised voice, loud enough that she instinctively glanced around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone.

“Koji, keep your voice down,” she admonished softly, though there was no real annoyance in her tone.

“Oops, sorry,” Koji said, quieter now but still carrying his usual demeanor. “What are you doing? Are you studying? You always study too much.”

[Name] chuckled lightly, adjusting her glasses. “Of course I’m studying. Exams are in session you know. I can’t slack off like you always do.”

“Hey! I don’t slack off,” he defended, though his sheepish laugh gave him away. “Anyway, you won’t believe what I found!”

Her brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Your poster!” he exclaimed proudly. “The one you said was lost forever. It was behind your desk this whole time. Guess I’m smarter than you, huh?”

[Name]’s mouth fell open in disbelief, and she nearly laughed out loud. “Koji! You were going through my stuff again, weren’t you?”

“Uh... maybe?” he admitted, not sounding the least bit guilty. “But it’s fine, right? I mean, you’re not even here to use it, and I was bored.”

Shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “You’re incorrigible. But thanks for finding it, I guess.”

“See? You should thank me more often. I’m a great little brother.”

[Name] rolled her eyes, though a fond smile lingered on her lips. “You’re something, all right. So, what do you want, Koji? Besides rummaging through my room.”

His tone shifted slightly, becoming more earnest. “I just wanted to annoy you. It’s been kinda boring without you around, you know? The house is too quiet.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment but her heart ached a little at his words, and she softened her voice. “I miss you too, Koji. But I’ll be back soon. Fall break is only a few weeks away.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” she said firmly.

There was a pause, and then Koji spoke again, quieter this time. “Take care of yourself, okay? I know you’re always so busy, but don’t overdo it.”

“I will,” she assured him, her voice warm. “And you stay out of trouble, got it? No more snooping through my stuff.”

“No promises,” he replied cheekily, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Bye, Koji. I’ll call you later.”

“Bye, [Name]-chan. Good luck with your exams”

The call ended, and [Name] stared at her phone for a moment, her smile lingering. She placed it back on the table, letting out a soft sigh. The brief conversation had been a welcome distraction, a reminder of home and the people who cared about her.

But the clock was ticking. The library’s clock chimed faintly, signaling that the break was nearly over. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her notes and dove back into her studies. The words on the page seemed to blur together, but she forced herself to focus, repeating dates and facts under her breath.

Just as the next bell rang, signaling the end of the break, [Name] felt a renewed determination. She closed her book with a quiet snap, her resolve stealing. ‘I’ll make you proud’, she thought, gathering her materials and preparing for her next class.

The library emptied quickly, but [Name] lingered for a moment longer, savoring the calm before stepping back into the whirlwind of academic life.

The school hallways were bustling with activity as students moved between classes, the sound of chatter and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. [Name] Sanzuku walked briskly through the corridor, her mind racing as she mentally reviewed the key points for her upcoming history exam. The weight of her textbooks in one arm and her notepad in the other added to her sense of urgency, her hair  swaying with every step.

As she turned a corner, a small clattering noise reached her ears. She paused, looking down to see that her pencil had slipped from her grasp and rolled a few feet away. Muttering under her breath, she crouched to retrieve it.

Just as her fingers were about to close around the pencil, a shadow fell over her, and a hand—larger and calloused—picked it up first.

"Looking for this?" a deep, composed voice asked.

[Name] straightened, blinking as she took in the figure before her. The young man was strikingly unique, with light-colored hair styled into dreadlocks that framed his sharp, slanted eyes. His lean frame carried an air of quiet intensity, and his piercing gaze seemed to cut through her like a blade. His strong, masculine presence was undeniable, making him stand out even in a crowd.

The pencil rested in his hand as he held it out to her, his expression calm yet unreadable. "You should watch where you're going," he said in a low tone, his words clipped and deliberate. “The tide doesn’t wait for anyone.”

[Name] blinked in confusion, taken aback by his cryptic phrasing. Quickly recovering, she reached for the pencil. "Uh, thanks," she began, her tone polite but wary. However, his comment lingered in her mind, and she frowned slightly. "Wait a second. What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m clumsy?"

Kairu’s expression didn’t change, though the corners of his lips twitched slightly, as if he found her reaction mildly amusing. "It’s not about clumsiness," he replied, his voice as calm as the lapping waves. "It’s about awareness. If you don’t keep an eye on the shore, you’ll get swept away."

[Name] narrowed her eyes, feeling a flicker of annoyance rise within her. "Okay, Mr. Surfing Philosopher," she said, crossing her arms, "maybe try handing back someone’s pencil without throwing in unsolicited life lessons next time."

For the first time, something flickered in Kairu’s sharp gaze, though it was impossible to tell whether it was amusement, irritation, or something else entirely. He inclined his head slightly, his voice still calm. "Fair enough. But you should hurry. The bell’s about to ring."

Her heart skipped a beat as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widened in panic. "Oh no, you’re right! I’m going to be late!" she exclaimed, her frustration with him momentarily forgotten.

Clutching her pencil tightly, she darted past him, her hurried footsteps echoing down the corridor. "Thanks again, I guess!" she called over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Kairu remained where he stood, watching her retreating figure with an unreadable expression. His hand lingered in the air for a moment before dropping to his side. His gaze followed her, lingering on the way her thair swayed with every frantic step.

"Like a fish swimming against the current," he murmured to himself, the faintest hint of a smile curving his lips. His sharp, slanted eyes glinted with something deeper, something primal, as he turned on his heel and walked away. The noisy hallway seemed to fade into the background as his thoughts lingered on [Name].

Kairu Saramadara’s movements were slow and deliberate as he exited the hallway, a predator savoring the thrill of the chase.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The history classroom was unusually quiet, save for the faint scratch of pens on paper and the occasional sound of someone shifting in their seat. The overhead clock ticked ominously, its hands creeping closer to the hour. The tension in the room was palpable as the students focused intently on their exams, each immersed in their own battle with the questions before them.

[Name] sat in the middle of the classroom, her red glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she hunched over her paper. Her hair hung limply by her shoulders, almost as if mirroring the growing sense of defeat she felt. The first few questions had been manageable, but as she progressed, the historical dates and significant events blurred together in her mind. By the time she flipped to the middle of the exam, a bead of sweat had formed on her temple.

She glanced up at the whiteboard, where the countdown timer ticked mercilessly closer to zero. Fifteen minutes left. She swallowed hard and forced herself to focus. Come on, [Name], she thought, gripping her pen tightly. ‘You studied this. You know this! Just think!’

But the harder she tried to recall the answers, the more elusive they seemed. Questions about key historical treaties and landmark battles stared back at her mockingly, their blank answer spaces a stark reminder of her faltering memory. She tapped her pen against her paper nervously, earning a soft "shhh" from someone behind her.

“Ugh, sorry,” she whispered, her face heating up in embarrassment.

She glanced at the next question, her eyes scanning it rapidly: "What was the main objective of the Treaty of Kanagawa in 1854?"

Her mind blanked. Was it trade? Diplomacy? Something else entirely? She couldn't remember, and the weight of her indecision pressed down on her chest like a stone.

Five minutes left.

Her heart pounded in her ears as she flipped to the last page. The sight of the final questions almost made her cry in frustration. She scrawled out a hasty answer to one, then hesitated on the next, the seconds slipping away far too quickly.

“Time’s up!” Mr. Prince’s booming voice shattered the silence, and the sound of the timer hitting zero followed immediately. “Pens down, everyone. That’s it.”

A collective sigh of relief and frustration swept through the room. [Name] froze, staring at the unfinished final questions on her paper. She let out a defeated groan and slumped forward, resting her head against her desk.

“Why am I like this?” she muttered, her voice muffled against the wood. “I totally flopped that. There’s no way I passed…”

Mr. Prince strode around the classroom, his unkempt blond hair bouncing slightly as he collected the exams. “Thank you, mates,” he said with his usual mix of charisma and confidence. “Now remember, history doesn’t care for excuses. Either you know it, or you don’t. Let’s see how many of you make me proud this time.”

As he walked by, [Name] shoved her paper toward him without lifting her head.

Akira, seated beside her, leaned over slightly, his soft voice breaking the silence. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up, [Name]. This is just one exam,” he said, offering her a reassuring smile. “You’ve still got time to prepare for the make-ups on Friday. Think of this as practice.”

[Name] turned her head slightly, her cheek still pressed against the desk. “I don’t know, Akira,” she sighed. “It feels like I’m drowning in a whirlpool of dates and names. I thought I studied enough, but clearly not.”

Reiji, sitting a row behind, twisted in his seat to face her. His eyes were calm and understanding as he rested his chin on his palm. “[Name], stop being so hard on yourself,” he said in his smooth, almost melodic tone. “You’re not alone in this. A lot of us struggled, and it’s not like you didn’t try. Effort matters, too.”

She lifted her head slightly, her glasses crooked on her nose. “You guys make it sound so easy,” she grumbled. “But this exam was brutal.”

Reiji chuckled softly. “Trust me, I didn’t breeze through it either. But that’s the thing about challenges—they’re meant to push you. You’ll do better next time.”

Akira nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And if you need help reviewing, you’ve got us. We’ll make sure you’re ready for Friday.”

[Name] sat up fully now, their words beginning to chip away at the dark cloud of self-doubt hanging over her. She adjusted her glasses and managed a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, guys,” she said softly. “I appreciate it. I just… don’t want to fail.”

“And you won’t,” Akira said firmly. “You’ve got the determination. Just take this as a lesson and move forward.”

Reiji’s expression softened further, his voice lowering to a gentler tone. “Besides, no one’s perfect, [Name]. Not even you. So stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

The warmth in their voices was enough to lift her spirits, even if just a little. She nodded, straightening her posture. “Alright,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I’ll try to focus on improving for the make-ups. But you guys better not let me slack off.”

Akira grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Reiji smirked. “Good. We’ll hold you to that.”

The tension in her chest eased as they shared a brief laugh. As the classroom emptied out for the next period, [Name] couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope reignite within her.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The hallway was bustling with students as they left the classroom, chattering about the exam or their plans for the next break. [Name] walked beside Akira, her mood still dampened by her performance on the midterm but uplifted slightly by his earlier words of encouragement. Reiji had split off to head to his club, leaving the two to share a more casual moment.

Akira, ever the observant friend, noticed the lingering worry on [Name]'s face. “You’re still thinking about that exam, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone lighthearted as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

[Name] sighed, adjusting her glasses. “It’s hard not to. That exam was brutal, Akira. And I know Mr. Prince is going to roast us when he hands them back.”

“Well, if you’re that worried, maybe I can distract you for a second.” He grinned and unlocked his phone with a quick swipe. “There’s someone I want you to meet—virtually, at least.”

[Name] blinked, tilting her head. “Someone I should meet? Who?”

“An old friend of mine. He’s transferring here in the spring term.” Akira tapped through his gallery and turned the phone toward her. On the screen was a picture of a tall, tan boy with blonde hair that had dark stripes and a toothy sharp grin that seemed larger than life. His pose was exaggerated, with both thumbs pointed at himself as if to say, “I’m the man.”

“This,” Akira declared with a playful flourish, “is Taiga Tsunzaki. Certified disaster of a human being.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Disaster, huh? He looks... spirited.”

“Spirited is a generous word. This guy couldn’t charm his way out of a wet paper bag. And believe me, he’s tried.” Akira scrolled to another picture—this one showing Taiga with a bouquet of flowers, looking utterly dejected as a girl in the background walked away. “Case in point.”

[Name] couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Oh no, poor guy. He really puts himself out there, doesn’t he?”

“Puts himself out there is an understatement,” Akira said, laughing. “Taiga has a long, illustrious history of crash-and-burn moments. You’d think he’d stop after the fifth—or fiftieth—rejection, but nope. The guy’s got a heart made of titanium.”

“Sounds like someone who doesn’t give up easily,” [Name] said, though she couldn’t help but giggle again at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But his flirting is so bad it’s almost an art form. Like, one time, he tried to impress a girl by juggling oranges in the cafeteria. He only made it through two tosses before they all hit the floor. He still called it a win, though.”

[Name] burst out laughing, earning a few curious glances from passing students. She quickly covered her mouth, her cheeks flushing. “You’re kidding!”

“Dead serious,” Akira said with a smirk. “And just when you think it can’t get worse…” He swiped to another photo, this one showing Taiga mid-bite, his face smeared with marinara sauce as he aggressively attacked a plate of spaghetti. The sheer intensity of the image was enough to send [Name] into another fit of laughter.

“What—what is he doing?” she managed between giggles, clutching her stomach.

“Survival of the fittest,” Akira said with mock seriousness. “When it’s you versus the spaghetti, you gotta show no mercy.”

[Name] shook her head, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “I can’t. This guy is unreal. Are you sure you’re not just showing me memes you found online?”

Akira grinned. “Nope. This is 100% authentic Taiga. He’s like a walking sitcom. You’ll love him when you meet him.”

“Well, he’s already making a strong first impression,” she said, handing the phone back to Akira. “I’ll be sure to brace myself for his... unique energy.”

Akira chuckled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “He’s a handful, but he’s got a good heart. And hey, maybe he’ll be just the distraction you need when spring rolls around.”

“Maybe,” [Name] said, her tone lighter now. “But for now, I think I’ll stick with surviving today.”

“Fair enough,” Akira said with a nod. “But just you wait. Taiga’s coming, and life as you know it will never be the same.”

[Name] rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the small smile that lingered on her face. Despite the stress of the day, moments like these made it all feel a little more manageable.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated [Name]'s dorm room as she sat cross-legged on her bed, a history textbook open in front of her. Notes were scattered around her in organized chaos, and her glasses had slid slightly down her nose as she focused on the lines of text. The silence of the room was punctuated only by the faint rustling of pages and the occasional scribble of her pen.

Her phone vibrated, breaking her concentration. She leaned over, picked it up, and saw a message from Ikki Niko:

Ikki > "Can we meet at the campus gates? I need help with the English exam on Thursday."

[Name] blinked at the screen before smiling. Finally, a break. She quickly typed back:

[Name] > "Sure, I could use some fresh air! Be there in 10."

Slipping her phone into her pocket, she hopped off the bed and stretched. "Studying can wait," she muttered, pulling a sweater over her head and swapping her lounge shorts for jeans. As she slipped on her sneakers, Hitomi, her roommate, glanced up from her own desk.

"Heading out?" Hitomi asked, twirling a pen between her fingers.

"Yeah," [Name] replied. "Ikki asked me to help him with the English exam. Meeting him at the gates."

Hitomi tilted her head, her expression turning slightly concerned. "You know it’s going to rain soon, right? You should take an umbrella."

[Name] froze mid-step. "Ah, crap," she muttered. "I left my umbrella at Ruka's place last time."

Hitomi sighed, already standing up to grab her own umbrella. "Here, take mine. I’m not going anywhere tonight."

[Name] took the umbrella with a grateful smile. "You’re a lifesaver, Hitomi. I owe you one."

Hitomi smirked. "You always do. Now go, before it starts pouring."

[Name] chuckled as she left the room, umbrella in hand. The air outside was crisp and cool, the sky a deep gray hinting at the storm to come. She hurried to the campus gates, where Ikki was waiting.

Ikki stood near the lamppost, his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, but even so, he kept glancing around nervously. When he saw [Name] approaching, he straightened, his posture stiff with apprehension.

"Hey, sorry for the wait," [Name] greeted him with an easy smile. She noticed how he fidgeted, his gaze darting everywhere except her face.

"N-No, it’s fine," Ikki stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I, uh, I just... needed some help with the English exam."

[Name] tilted her head, sensing his discomfort. "Of course. But first," she said, glancing up at the ominous clouds, "let’s grab something warm. There’s a café nearby, and I could really use a coffee."

Ikki hesitated for a moment, his shoulders tensing as if considering retreat. But then he gave a small nod. "O-Okay."

The walk to the café was quiet, save for the soft crunch of leaves underfoot. [Name] tried to strike up a conversation to ease the tension. "So, English, huh? Not your strong suit?"

Ikki scratched the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Not really. I can... understand it okay, but writing essays is a nightmare."

[Name] chuckled. "Well, you’ve come to the right person. I’ll have you acing it in no time."

Ikki glanced at her briefly, his cheeks tinged pink. "Thanks... for agreeing to help. I don’t usually... ask people for stuff."

[Name] smiled warmly. "No problem. That’s what friends are for, right?"

Ikki’s steps faltered for a second, his heart skipping at her casual use of the word "friend." He ducked his head, his bangs obscuring his face as they entered the café.

Inside, the warm aroma of coffee and baked goods greeted them. The cozy atmosphere, with its soft lighting and wooden furniture, seemed to relax Ikki slightly. They approached the counter, and [Name] quickly ordered a cappuccino for herself and a hot chocolate for Ikki, teasingly insisting that he needed something sweet to keep his brain fueled.

As they sat down, Ikki’s nerves began to show again. He fiddled with his cup, his fingers tapping against the ceramic. [Name] noticed and decided to lighten the mood.

"So, Ikki," she began with a mischievous grin, "is this your first time asking a girl for help? Or are you secretly some kind of smooth operator?"

Ikki nearly choked on his hot chocolate. "W-What? No! I’m not—" He broke off, his face burning as he stumbled over his words.

[Name] laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Relax, I’m just messing with you." She leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. "But seriously, you don’t have to be so tense. We’ll go over the material, and you’ll be fine."

Ikki finally managed a small smile, his nervous energy slowly fading under [Name]’s easygoing presence. "Thanks," he said softly.

The two began discussing the exam, [Name] breaking down the material into simple explanations while Ikki listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes. As the storm outside began to drizzle against the café windows, Ikki found himself grateful—not just for the help but for the unexpected warmth of [Name]’s company.

The café’s cozy ambiance was suddenly disrupted by the jarring click of boots on the wooden floor. [Name] and Ikki, engrossed in their study session, barely registered the figure approaching their table until a smooth, taunting voice broke through their focus.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Himizu rawled, his split tongue flicking out briefly as he smirked down at them. His sharp, serpentine features were framed by his hair, and his eyes gleamed with a predatory glint. He was dressed in a sleek black jacket and ripped jeans, a casual yet deliberate choice that exuded confidence.

[Name] sighed, recognizing the mocking tone instantly. “Himizu,” she muttered under her breath, already bracing herself for his antics.

Himizu ignored her tone, his focus entirely on [Name]. “Fancy seeing you here, [Name]. Didn’t know you were into babysitting introverts,” he said with a sly glance at Ikki, who stiffened at the remark.

Ikki’s grip on his pen tightened, but he kept his gaze fixed on his notebook. [Name], however, wasn’t as willing to let Himizu’s comments slide.

“Himizu, it’s not nice to dig into people’s business,” she said sharply, folding her arms and glaring up at him. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother us?”

Himizu chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, but bothering you is my business,” he replied, leaning against their table. His split tongue flicked out again, as if tasting the air for her irritation. “Besides, you’re far too entertaining to ignore. That sour little look on your face? Priceless.”

[Name] scowled, her patience wearing thin. “Do you ever get tired of being a pest?”

“Never,” Himizu said with a grin, leaning in closer. His voice dropped to a teasing whisper. “And you make it so easy. Tell me, [Name], do you always get this flustered when someone gives you attention? Or is it just me?”

Her cheeks flushed with anger, and she slammed her palm on the table. “You’re unbelievable! If you’re done being obnoxious, why don’t you—”

Before she could finish, Ikki finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “Leave her alone.”

Himizu’s head turned slowly toward Ikki, as if noticing him for the first time. His smirk widened. “Oh? And what’s this? A knight in shining armor? Or coward in calling?” He straightened and crossed his arms, regarding Ikki with mock amusement. “You’re braver than I thought, Niko. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Ikki’s jaw tightened, but he refused to back down. “We’re trying to study. If you’ve got nothing useful to say, then go.”

Himizu’s laugh was cold and sharp, cutting through the quiet murmur of the café. “Oh, how noble. But let me give you a little tip, Niko. Playing the hero rarely ends well. Especially not for someone like you.”

[Name] glared at him, her voice sharp with exasperation. “Are you done yet? You’ve made your point—whatever it was. Now leave us alone.”

Himizu tilted his head, pretending to consider her words. “Hmm. I suppose I’ve had my fun for now.” He stepped back, his split tongue darting out once more in that unnerving, snake-like manner. “But before I go...”

He leaned in close to [Name], his lips near her ear. His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive tone. “You smell absolutely delicious.”

[Name] froze, a shiver running down her spine. She instinctively pulled back, her heart pounding in her chest. Himizu straightened with a chuckle, clearly satisfied with her reaction.

“See you around,” he said lightly, giving them both a mock salute before sauntering off, his laughter echoing behind him.

[Name] sat stiffly for a moment, her hands clenched into fists. “That guy is the worst,” she muttered, her voice trembling with anger.

Ikki, still tense, glanced at her. “Are you okay?”

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... creeped out.”

Ikki nodded, his own frustration evident in the tight set of his jaw. “Next time, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the chance to bother you.”

[Name] managed a small smile, grateful for his support. “Thanks, Ikki. Let’s just get back to studying. I need something to distract me from... that.”

Ikki nodded again, and they returned to their books, though the lingering tension from Himizu’s presence weighed heavily on their minds.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Exam Part 1/2

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𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚜, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙶𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙼𝙿𝚄𝚂!! 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟷𝟾 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛!!!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

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[otomes-world]

"Under fantasy disguise" part Pomefiore (1)

Fantasy AU “Under fantasy disguise”: world lore (prologue) heartslabyul savanaclaw octavinelle scarabia trigger warning: some self hate, reader in really bad state (but there is nothing grafic), barrely edited text.

At some point, the clouds flying past completely erased the idea of time and space. Slowly brightening sky marked the beginning of a new day. The lump in throat, the approaching nausea and self-loathing merged into one large layer, settling like a burden in your chest. A heaviness that radiates unpleasantly throughout the whole body.

You wanted to pry open chest if only it could give at least a little peace of mind.

However, the much-desired peace would not come. The subconscious told you, or maybe you yourself understood that you couldn’t let go of the situation. Frankly, what happened - all at once - was not your fault. It wasn’t, but selfishness and the banal desire to survive stuck needles into such a subjective concept of conscience, which you didn’t even suspect. When you live in a world of technology - when you don't have to make tough decisions - the world seems simpler.

You didn’t know where the carpet was going. Perhaps it was simply obeying your unspoken impulse to get away. Anywhere. To a place where it will be at least a little easier.

However, during the time you spent in this world, you managed to come to terms with the thought: it won’t get better. The further you plunged into unfamiliar lands and got to know its inhabitants, the harder the blow to your mental health. At some point you thought that the happiest time of your forced journey was wandering in the mountains.

Taking a shuddering breath, you froze abruptly, noticing movement out of the corner of your eye. Something flew past at incredible speed. Glancing briefly at the sleeping cat, you clenched your fists, your nails - or what was left of them - digging into the skin of your palms. The pain helped calm down a little and focus on surroundings. A moment and something flew by again, this time very close.

It didn't seem to you.

Waking Grimm up with your left hand, you tried to look down. The carpet did not slow down, and therefore it was difficult to try to see anything. The barely brightening sky did not help at all. Suddenly the fabric shook and you felt something cold millimeters from your other hand. Imagining the worst, you looked down, noticing the thin scratch on your skin and the arrow.

Everything inside you suddenly stopped.

Heart began to beat sharply, making already labored breathing difficult. The mind tried to come up with a solution, an escape, something, but apparently the third arrow was the last warning. The last one before something incomprehensible collided with the carpet, paradoxically sobering and frightening at the same time. Intuitively stretching out your hands towards the sound of meowing, you realized in horror that you were falling down. The carpet, which had saved your life several times, was flailing in the air, trying to extinguish the flames that were engulfing the fabric faster and faster.

You closed your eyes and prepared to fall. The sharp blow, it felt like it, knocked out the remaining oxygen on the branch, as did a further fall onto the wet grass. The pain darkened vision. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t have the strength to unclench teeth and utter even a sound. Bent over, you still clutched Grimm to your chest, simultaneously trying to think about something good.

Heartslabyul still caused waking nightmares, but there were incredibly beautiful roses there. Flowers. Pleasant baking aroma. The softly shining sun.

A slow, careful breath literally created a storm inside. The lungs protested, the muscles tensed to the limit. It would be so easy to close your eyes and plunge into darkness if it weren't for the adrenaline still flowing through your veins. Your attacker was still somewhere nearby.

Sitting up with an effort of will, you could hardly resist so as not to fall back. Your side was burning, and the notorious stars were flying before eyes. What kept you from giving up was the realization that the breathing of the cat, limp in your arms, was becoming weaker. The fear of being alone in this world turned out to be enough of an incentive to go against everything: fate, a tired body and, possibly, broken bones.

A rustling sound came very close, and you tensed, preparing for the worst. Having spotted a dry branch nearby, you wondered how much time and effort it would take to grab it. There was a rustling sound again, and this time the steps took him by surprise, but a child appeared from behind the bushes. Even in the semi-darkness, you noticed his light gray hair and pointed ears. Gradually, two more appeared behind him: one with burgundy strands sticking out to the sides and a gloomy expression on his face, and the second, ready to fall asleep at any moment.

The very first, apparently the main one of the trio, took a step forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture, "How are you feeling? How many fingers am I showing?"

You just shook your head, closing your eyes. The voice of reason insisted that you had to run, but fear for Grimm did not allow you to take even a step..

"Us.. can.. help.. you.. "you didn’t recognize your own voice. It sounded so quiet and muffled that you doubted whether you were heard. Your throat burned, but you opened your mouth again to repeat the request as many times as necessary.

"Dominic, it’s not a good idea to bring someone you don’t know home, is it?" The gloomy child spoke, and for a second you again started to panic. "If we bring everyone we meet and cross, we ourselves will soon become the King’s target."

King? That's all you needed. Previous territories also had heads, but facing the “royal family” sounded much more terrible and problematic

"..only a night.. I can.. stay in the forest.. only Grimm.." It seemed like torture to pronounce every word. Your vision was blurry, but you were obliged to hold out.

“Another guest won’t be such a problem,” Dominic answered. "Can you get up?"

No. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to get up. You couldn't even lie to yourself. You didn’t even have to answer, the main one came up and extended his hands to the cat. With trembling hands, struggling not to pull them away, you allowed the cat to be taken away

"Groom, stay and look after last one. Shelpi and I will go get Neige"

The one who was called Groom grumbled without ceasing, but still approached you. Watching the children disappear among the greenery, you allowed yourself to relax. At least Grimm was safe.

"Hey. Hey! Come to your senses!"

You felt someone shaking your shoulder, but you couldn’t make out anything else. Only at some point did you hear someone’s worried voice, but you couldn’t make out what exactly he was saying.

You came to your senses, then fell into oblivion again. Voices, sounds, light caused dizziness and rejection. The only thing you remembered throughout the entire chaotic state was that pleasant voice and someone’s warm hands.

"You woke up!" Someone voiced it before you even realized it yourself. It’s just that at some point you stopped distinguishing between reality and a dream, but it seems that this time you were definitely in reality. "Wait, I'll call Dominic"

This name fluttered familiarly in memory. That's right, that was the name of the bright child. Following with an unfocused gaze the young man - although now in your eyes he was just a colored spot - who quickly rushed off somewhere, leaving you for a minute.

Closing your eyelids, you tried to focus on the present. You weren't abandoned in the forest, that's a plus. The attacker didn't show up yesterday, or maybe you just weren't found. The questions “Who” and “Why” remained unanswered. It would be possible to close your eyes and not chase your tail, as before, but your intuition suggested that this time it would be different. That this was just the calm before the next storm. But you no longer had the strength to look for shelter so as not to be carried away to the mercy of fate.

A quiet knock brought you back to reality. It was strange, the young man didn’t seem to lock the door. Opening your eyes slightly, you squinted, trying to make out the newcomer. As you thought, it turned out to be the same child. Next to him stood someone your age - maybe a little older or younger - with a friendly smile. The corners of your lips slightly twitched upward, but they couldn’t become the same full-fledged smile.

"Are you feeling better now?" Asked the child, who continued speaking after a nod from you. “You’re probably still confused, so I’ll try to speak more slowly. My name is Dominic, my dwarf brothers and me have been living in this forest for a very long time. And this,” he pointed at the young man, “is Neige. Although you may already know him. Let me know what happened to you?"

"…if.. I knew.. someone attacked us while we were flying on the carpet.. we turned over and fell, Grimm.. Grimm! Where is he?" An attempt to sit up abruptly was unsuccessful, causing more circles under the eyes and weakness. A brunette who appeared next to you prevented you from turning over and falling out of bed

"Your friend is okay!" The dwarf immediately answered hastily. "He, like you, needs to rest. But you need to do this first. During the fall, you broke a rib" you immediately touched your burning side. “It will take time to heal.”

Having given a short thank you to him and the boy, as a sign that you were already feeling better, you began to hastily rebuild your plan of action. It was impossible to linger, but on the other hand, going in the current state was no less stupid. You understood that the fall could not have happened without something - there was a limit to luck and the capabilities of the human body - but the awareness did not brighten up what was happening.

"Do you know who could have attacked you?“ The young man asked softly, holding out a glass of water that had come from nowhere. However, you weren't complaining.

“No.. No, this is my first time in these lands,” after a couple of sips it became easier to speak. “We were flying… yes, we were flying,” you strained your tired memory. "…someone shot! I remembered the arrow!" Looking hopefully at Dominic, you saw a worried look. As if he realized who exactly attacked you and the Grimm. For some reason, you doubted whether it was worth finding out the truth. "This is not someone from the royal family, right?"

You tried to laugh, but it sounded pathetic even to your own ears. For some reason, the duo didn't appreciate your joke.

“It might have been Rook,” you frowned, another new name. “He works as a hunter and serves Vi,” the young man tried to keep the conversation going with the same light laugh, which came out better than yours. However the impression he made was the same - he did not inspire confidence.

“Vi?” You asked carefully, afraid to confirm your fears.

"Exactly, you don’t know. That's what I call Vil, he is the king of these lands. We saw each other quite often at the castle!"

You were doomed. You could see the world literally crumbling before your eyes. This is exactly what was needed for happiness. Purely to confirm what you already suspected, you turned to Dominic, "What is the probability that… how did you call him, Rook?.. Reported everything to the king?"

Silence was a convincing enough answer.

Despite the chance of being discovered, you remained in the dwarves' house. It was inspired by the hopelessness and persuasiveness of Neige, who took upon himself the responsibility of your personal doctor. Although this was too strong a word, the process was still more led by the chief of the dwarves. Gradually you got to know the others.

Groom and Shelpi were part of the company that day. Although the first one was rude and hot-tempered, you couldn’t call him bad. It just took some getting used to. Shelpi was his opposite. A dwarf with a perpetually sleepy look, although you could understand him. In your current state, all you wanted to do was sleep.

There were four more gnomes: Timmy, Toby, Snick and Hop. You saw Timmy only from afar and only in someone else’s company. Perhaps he was just nervous around strangers. Toby was a sweetheart whose memory failed him more often than usual. Hop was a classic example of a cheerful child, and Snick's specialty was his perpetual allergies.

Watching their noisy but cheerful routine was a pleasant change from the nightmare that was happening in your life before. Nevertheless, you remembered Heartslabyul’s experience and were in no hurry to relax.

The more time you spent in their friendly company, the stronger the feeling of guilt grew. Understanding that they would come for you. Now or a little later didn't matter. Just like how many troubles befell the cat’s head for the company. Asking to take care of Grimm was another breaking through the ceiling called “selfishness,” but… that incident made it clear that problems were pouring down on your head more and more often. Their consequences were becoming increasingly difficult to correct.

Living with guilt was unbearable.

So much so that you were unable to look into the eyes of your faithful friend, who has literally gone through thick and thin with you, and you decided to leave him.

You didn't even hope for forgiveness. Deep inside you understood that this was just an attempt to come to an agreement with yourself, a struggle for the opportunity to hate yourself a little less. Looking at the recovering cat, this thought took root more firmly in consciousness.

The pathetic excuse “it will be better this way.”

Gradually you were allowed to take short walks. Your side still hurt, as did the wounds on back, but the fresh air helped to distract you and not drown in self-flagellation. The only activity for which you always had the strength.

Hoping to find your things, you tried to find the crash site from memory. It was stupid, especially since those trinkets were of no value. To some extent, they simply gave an imaginary sense of belonging. Reminders of your home world, which seemed farther and farther away day by day.

Moving aside the branches, you were finally able to find the desired clearing. It was like all the others, but some internal awareness did not allow you to pass by.

Check and leave.

Simple plan - simple implementation. Searching among the bushes without bending down was another challenge. Having sat down, you rose to your feet again with great difficulty, the shooting pain in your lower back made itself felt every time you tried to find your treasured things.

Breathing heavily, you leaned your hand on the trunk of a nearby tree. A little break won't hurt anyone, that's for sure in your condition. Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the clearing once again, making mental notes of where the bag might have been thrown.

There was not a soul around, or at least it seemed so. Perhaps over time you became too suspicious, but at the moment you could not leave the feeling of being watched, no matter how stupid it may sound. Who could be in the deep forest, right? Unless… who attacked you and the Grimm that day. You tsked and took another breath, trying to calm down.

It was dangerous to return to the house: you didn’t want to let Neige and his friends down. Trying to escape in an unknown direction was reckless. You didn’t know these places, one wrong turn and Robinson Crusoe will appear in this forest. Although you doubted that this world had heard of him. The possibility of becoming a discoverer was not encouraging.

"Ma cheri! What a rarity it is to find such a beautiful creature in such a dense thicket,” a voice that came out of nowhere took you by surprise.

Turning towards the sound at a speed you didn’t know you were capable of, you saw a strange blond-haired young man.

“Are you… talking about me?..” You asked carefully, simultaneously looking for a way to escape. Now the suspicions no longer seemed groundless.

"Oui! Yes and yes! A triple "yes" is not enough to prove the sincerity of my words. How brave and reckless are walks in the wilds, where every animal and people poses a danger. I had already decided that knowledge, Fata Morgana, which had darkened my mind and revealed such a fragile angel in human form!"

He spoke a lot and not very clearly, sometimes you lost the thread of the story. In your best times, you didn’t like such conversations, let alone today. However, this was a good opportunity to look at the blond. He was wearing a cream-colored tunic, loose pants and a hat with a fluffy white feather.

It was necessary to come up with an excuse and as quickly as possible. Perhaps you would be able to wander around, wait for him to leave, and return home without consequences. However, this would be too loud a statement. If there's one thing life has taught you, it was not to think ahead of time.

"Thank you, I guess?.. Did you want something?" You decided to ask directly.

"Oh, that's right. Wandering among the flora and fauna, I found one interesting little thing,” he sadly shook his head while you did everything to prevent doubts from showing on your face. "Obeying the will of my heart, I am trying to find the owner."

Emphasizing the last word, he smiled, narrowing his eyes. The nature of the emotion that flashed through them made you shiver.

"Well, I wish you good luck in your search, sir.."

"Hunt! But you can call me by my name, just Rook,” digging your nails into the palms, you kept a friendly expression on your face through an effort of will. The blond raised his hands in a surrendering gesture, and then also calmly began to close the distance. "I don’t dare to hope that you have heard of me. However, like me about you. His Majesty, Roi du Poison, has been wanting to meet you for quite some time, and who are we to refuse him."

Looking ahead at the outstretched hand and the unshakable figure of - as Neige said - the hunter, you doubted that you had any chance of escape.

[nite-v4mp]

I like just stumbled upon your blog and omg i love ur writing!! Could you write some domestic headcanons for Jacob from lurking for love? Hopefully its not too much trouble, have a nice day :3

SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE I just came back from a date :3 BUT UGH YES YES JACOB <3

• ACTS OF SERVICE YES YES YES That man will be SHOWING you he loves you. You dont wanna make food? he will cook. you dont wanna do laundry? he will do it!

• He will get shy if youre bold. Holding his hand has him sweating and a kiss on the cheek? He isnt washing it EVER he is kicking his feet

• Would have kept every letter or any scraps of paper or anything you might have touched in all honesty-

• He is probably a cuddlebug- but waits for YOU to initiate affection

• PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make a flower crown for him- he will wear it every day until it fell apart

• Probably would be honestly be a hopeless romantic and yalls first kiss is probably during a picnic under the stars, where youre staring at the sky and he is watching you, at the way your eyes shimmer, and is falling in love again

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Attire mission: Purchase premium attire to get an extended romantic story!

Me: *on Liam's route* Romantic my ass! This is a tragedy

[peachprinny]

my first post, my fanart of the crew

[thecw-unicorn]

The Oath (Yandere! Giorno x reader)

So I originally wasn’t planning on writing this but spur of the moment idea, for @mrsgiovanna Giorno Month, and I just wanted to add one final contribution!

Prompt: “You’ll learn to love me”

TW: toxic relationship/behavior, mentions of stalking and manipulation

He was watching you, like always.

You were walking through his garden. Or rather your garden, as he had told you, as whatever belonged to him, belonged to you.

He watches intensely. He loved seeing you around the flowers, and loved it even more when you had gone the extra step taking care of the flowers. Even though you didn’t realize how they last all year long, even in the winter, and didn’t understand the nature of their existence, it warmed his heart. Your dress swaying ever slightly in the breeze, as if the whole scene did it’s best to beautify you. Not that you needed it in Giorno’s mind.

He smiled as you walked along the path, slowly taking in the sights and smells of all the beautiful flowers that surrounded you on both sides. He was glad to see you out. After you arrived, (or kidnapped, as you often called it, much to Giorno’s disappointment), you weren’t doing so good. Spending most if not all days in your room barely eating, drinking, or doing anything. He did everything he could to get you back to yourself. Gentle coaxing, sweet words, strong promises, anything he could think of. You hated to admit it, but it mostly worked. You’d spend hours thinking of your friends and family. Giorno knew it too. He’d always tell you “wouldn’t they want you to live? To be alive, and well taken care of?”

It was hard to argue with that. Not to mention you didn’t exactly have the energy to fight back. So you caved in. You’d let him hold you, let him kiss you, buy you things. Whatever his delusional idea of love was. Some days were definitely hard. The need to leave. Not just this place, but your body, your mind. It didn’t take long to learn your mind was as dangerous as the gilded cage you were stuck in. Getting out of bed, and doing something was substantially better than living in the mind numbing roar that deafens your head and strangles you in its grasp.

The wind blows softly, tickling your face and arms slightly. The scent of the flowers are blown to you as well. The scent is almost…too perfect. You make your way over to a batch of roses, the fragrance so strong it almost suffocates you. Another irregularity: no thorns. You remember the bewilderment you had felt first seeing the odd flowers. It wasn’t until Giorno had explained everything that it all made sense: the flowers were for you. The smell is as amplified as possible, no thorns to prevent picking your fingers. The whole idea had made you uneasy. They looked so perfect, so beautiful, any gardener's dream. And yet, it wasn’t read. It was fake. You couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how Giorno’s feelings were. Perfect and sweet on the surface, but ultimately a ruse. A clever trick crafted from an expert mummer, poised in the act of deception. You shook your head, not wanting to fill it with melancholy thoughts to further sour the garden visit.

You make your way to the end of the path, seating yourself on a stone bench underneath a weeping cherry blossom tree. You close your eyes, trying to find some form of relaxation in this prison. You feel the breeze softly moving the hanging flowers of the tree, tickling your upper arms and face. You tried to think happy thoughts. The flowers. Their smell wafting all around you. The sound of their swaying in the breeze. Or better yet, you tried having no thoughts at all. You’d learned to despise your brain and being in it for such long, silent, periods of time since living with Giorno. You take a deep breath, hoping to expel the already rising negative thoughts. You’d almost forgotten about your book you’d brought to read, sitting neatly beside you on the bench. You pick up the book, hoping to escape and find whatever happiness you could in this beautiful misery.

He saw that you were reading again. Finally, he thought, unable to stop the smirk forming on his face. He’d bought you all those books, since he knew of your deep love of reading from spending days watching you in detail. He was glad to see you finally using the countless gifts he’d showered you with since bringing you home. He loved watching you. Whether it was simply mundane tasks or a deep passion you had, he’d always wanted to keep as close of an eye as possible. Despite it, he knew it was creepy and invasive. But now that you were with him, he’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe and protected, even if it meant having himself or someone watching your every move.

Truth be told, he was happy to see you outside. He noticed you were having a string of bad days, preferring to stay in your room all day, barely touching the food that was sent. The dark circles would be visible on your face, your eyes holding a weary frightened glaze to them. You did your best to put up walls around you, guarding your brain, and more importantly your heart from him. But Giorno knew you. He knew everything down to a T. He remembers his words to you upon your arrival: “You’ll learn to love me.” Not only a warning, but a promise. While not to the point he’d wish, you had grown more used to your home, and especially grown used to him and being with him. Sure, it was no easy task, but enough gifts, sweet, coaxing words, and subtle, pointed reminders of his power and your family, you had become more docile. You had your…outburst every now and then but it was expected. Moving one into a whole new home and in a new relationship is no easy task, but Giorno committed himself to you. And yet, he himself struggled as well. One aspect of maintaining the seamless transition to your new home was restraint. He wanted nothing more than to express his love in every way possible, loving words, soft kisses, giving himself wholly to you. But, deep down, he knew it’d confuse you, even scare you as well having to deal with the new environment and all his love and attention. Only in the dead of night when slumber claimed you did he allow his words to push past his lips.

“You’re going to stay here now. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise. And I promise to make this your home and love you with all I am and more. I swear it.”

He remembers another time, a time he’d said words very similar to what he’d said to you. To a friend (2 years older!) before he’d rested him in white flowers forever. Never again. He wouldn’t do it again. Not for you. He’d do everything in his power to ensure you were safe and in your own little slice of Heaven. He’d love you with everything he was, and keep you here. He’d kissed your hands, and your forehead while you slept, none the wiser of the solemn oath that had been sworn over your slumber.

[dezgasting]

is Punch-Out!! still alive on tumblr? i stg most punch-out stuff i draw lately is only good for Tumblr lmao i'll give y'all a Yandere Don Flamenco for fun =P

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Swords in the Court: Drums of War

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word count: 7k+

Part 1

Warning: Violence, description of sexual assault, violence against women, the implication of violence against children, threats of violence, implication of sex and sexual activities

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited and poor attempt at medieval-world description

The knock on your door is heavy and urgent. You sit up on the bed and look around your room, it is plunged into the darkness that comes with a moonless night. Exhaling, you feel around the bedside for a candle, most of them are burnt out. With no choice, you wrap a robe around yourself and climb out of bed.

“Who’s it?”

“It’s me!” comes the muffled but familiar voice from the other side of the door

With rushed movements, you unlock the door and sigh in relief at the sight of Madeline with a lit-up candlestand.

“I received a message from the south. You need to go to the Queen with this?”

“What?”

“My cousin lives there, two nights ago, they saw ships landing there. Through the bay, they came, in the middle of the night. The Queen’s cousin has laid claim to the throne, he has the support of the enemies.”

“Wh–What?. Two nights ago, does the King know of it?” You ask her, ready to rush to the Queen.

“If they have attacked any of the provinces, or plundered any village, hopefully, yes.”

“Do you think the Spanish will help?” You ask Madeline, grasping her hand.

“If the Prince has made up his mind... They have brought some soldiers.”

“I must let the Queen know before she hears it from someone else.”

You put on something decent in a rush and take the candle stand from Madeline 

------

“Go back to your room, and do not let anyone know. Go now,”

Once you have made sure that Madeline has slipped away safely, you make your way to the Queen’s chamber. And of course, the royal guards are on your way.

“Please inform her, I must see her.”

“The Queen is resting, woman. You cannot barge into Her Highness’ chambers!” The knight hisses.

“This is an utmost delicate matter that I ought to bring to her attention, I must meet her—”

“Listen here.” He seizes your arm with a bruising force “Lowborns like you may have won the Queen’s favour, but you must never forget your place, or you shall lose your head!”

You glare at him, hissing with an edge in your voice, growing restless with each delayed moment  “I shall lose my head, anyway, Ser, if I do not get to see the Queen right now!”

“Listen you Blacksmith cunt!” the spray of spit on your face makes you cringe, and the ‘Knight’ mistakes it for fear and grabs you by the hair “Perhaps you forget—”

“Is this how all the Royal Knights treat ladies here or are you an exception Ser?” Ser Lorres unhands you quicker than you can gain your balance. 

A witness to the mistreatment of any of the Ladies-in-Waiting for the Queen is not good for Ser Lorres, or any royal knight for that matter. You staggerer back, trying to regulate your breathing and keep your simmering rage under reins when you bump against a solid torso.

“Lo-Lord Juan! Uh–Duke—”

“Don't bother. I believe the Queen would not be pleased to hear how you treat her Lady-in-Waiting.” 

Lord John makes a dismissive gesture while Lorres is already on his knees, the metal of his armour clanking unceremoniously against the floor. He is warm, you notice, and there is the district fragrance of spice mingled with the tinge of wine.

“Are you hurt, my Lady?”

It is bad news, he had most definitely heard you plead to see the Queen and a man of his stature must not have missed it.

“I am, I thank you for your kindness, My Lord.”

 You step away and turn to him, but you are close enough to notice he is tall, slightly taller than his brother perhaps, it is not for the plain sight until one has the kite’s eyes. For a moment, you think of coming up with an excuse, but you have no time, you instead, seize the opportunity in hand and turn to  Lorres, still on his knee.

“May I have an audience with the Queen, Ser Lorres?”

—---

“The bay, you said?” The Queen’s chamber is well-lit, while she pours herself some wine 

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“My cousin has no real claim to the throne. His House has been exiled!”

“He has laid claim regardless, Your Grace. He has the Kingdom's rival supporting the claim.”

“Of course he has. The French would want a puppet of a King and perhaps some disgruntled Barons and Earls are ready to take up arms as well?”

“W-will we have a war then? Is it inevitable?”

“Not if the Crown Prince weds the Princess. As soon as possible.” She sighs, emptying her glass with a swig.

“What does Spain have to gain from this alliance?” You ask, feeling the trepidation.

“We share a common enemy, with the Kingdom’s port at its service, the Spanish ships shall have the upper hand if conflict breaks out, and an eye on the continent.” She explains

“But is it enough to marry our Princess? He is the Crown Prince of an Empire.”

“Power is earned, child, your birthright can take you only so far. Do you think, with Don Juan in the picture, his crown is safe? He needs an heir. My daughter is young and beautiful, and I have many children, she is my first-born.”

You frown at that, remembering Maddy’s words  “But, did he not pledge his loyalty to the Empire the day he was publicly accepted in the court?”

The Queen scoffs, “Loyalty to the Empire? There is no loyalty in a court, Girl. They want nothing but power. Don Juan has risen up from nothing. Ostracised since childhood, he has faced many attempted assassinations for a reason. He is feared, for a reason.  And here he stands, on the verge of Dukedom. Do you think the Spanish Crown sleeps on that? They need him, Spain knows that war is imminent, they need men like Juan.”

“So, he is a foe, then? " You ask. The answer, though, is quite.

“He is a threat until the Princess marries the Crown Prince and gives him an heir.”

“We need the Spanish, right now.”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a moment and turns towards you “Yes, we do. The threat of war looms nearer than a bastard’s possible claim on the Spanish throne. If they block the main route of supplies, people are going to starve here.”

“What shall be done then?”

“My cousin knows the routes, his father was the Earl of Esterwood for ages, and he will make this move. Fetch me my writing supplies, we must write to our friends. The Spanish came for a wedding, not war.”

“They brought some ships, as gifts.”

“The King shall be dealing with the Emperor, right now, we need the enemies surrounded in our land. I need to write to the East and the North, the West is closer but we have many sympathisers for my cousin’s House. The Duke of Reinckalf is our closest ally right now. And if we have the blessings, we would not need ships at all."

You nod and get to work.

—--

It is almost bewildering how a single night has changed the air around the palace. Once beaming with lights and chimes of wedding echoing, the palace is now preparing for a possible war, which can be avoided, if the Spanish agrees to send help. You have no clue though, neither the Prince nor his bastard brother has been seen since the break of dawn, you have slept a wink preparation for a battle is in full swing.

Hope flares in you, when you are sent by the Queen to serve refreshments to the men discussing battle plans. In her absence, you are her ears and eyes.

“The Emperor has been sent a letter. I have written personally to him.” The Spanish Prince sits in front of the King.

“I do not believe we have time to wait, now, My Prince.” Lord Juan speaks up. “The vessels landed on the shore two nights ago, this morning, a soldier has reported three villages plundered. They have the supplies, which tells us that they are preparing for a long conflict. He has the French support, through him, the French are going to test the King’s defences. It’s a gamble, especially after the news of the upcoming wedding is spreading like wildfire.”

“But the Prince’s life is not cheap, brother.” One of the princes speaks up with a sharpened tone.

“Of course, it isn’t. That is why I shall take the charge and lead the arms.”

“I appreciate your bravery, Juan but you cannot act without the permission of the Emperor.”

Don John looks into the Prince’s eyes, a distinct gleam under the light makes it seem like there is a slow-burning fire within dark orbs.

“I shall ride as a man of my own doings. I shall carry no Spanish banner under the sun, not until the Emperor sends a nod.”

The Crown Prince whispers something in Spanish with an edge in his voice, but Don John remains undeterred. He replies, betraying nothing of what might be unleashing in his mind. 

In this delicate moment, you wish you had learnt Spanish, but you were so tired of keeping up with the mannerisms that had to be taught to you from scratch ‘a lot of work’ you appointed governess had complained to the Queen. You always had your own ways, thankfully, the Queen liked that, and she still does.

At last, the Crown Prince sighs and Don John turns to the King

 “I shall be joining with my men and leading this battle along with your sons. I shall carry no Spanish banner. But I assure you of Spain’s support to your Kingdom, this is merely what traditions demand.”

“We shall forever be grateful, My Lord.”

“Please, Don John would do. Besides, my brother is to wed the Princess. Let us send a message, without murking up the diplomacy, we can do it, can we not?” He turns to the Crown Prince, who nods, despite the flicker of hesitance in his eyes.

The wedding is bound to happen, right?

For a brief moment, Don John’s eyes meet yours across the room, but the dark orbs are gone as swiftly as they caught your gaze, now moving towards the King as they engage in battle strategy.

“They should have come from the South, it was closer.” One of the men in the room comments.

“Yes, but the East has many who still harbour sympathy for his house.” the King responds.

“Tell me everything, my Lord. I must know the battlefield I am going into.” Don Juan urges.

—--

Your time in the chamber has been tedious but fruitful. You have all the right pieces of information for the Queen. As you bring her tea to her chamber, you provide the pieces that you have collected.

“I do not understand why he would want to lead the army to a battle that is not even his.”

“Should we worry, Your Grace?” You ask, frowning.

The Queen sighs, thinking “I need you to get to the Healer’s place and give him this letter. I need to know everything about the King’s court. And what do the masses think of this if they even know that the villages have been plundered? Are there any secret recruitments underway? This can decide much of the war, Girl. Visit the town’s brothel under disguise, if Katherine knows anything, she shall let you know—any new face, any discourse of concern. I need to know.”

“Is that how wars are won, My Queen?” You cannot help but ask.

She looks at you and ushers you closer, once closer, she stares into your eyes, her piercing stare sees you right through the deepest, darkest parts of your soul and reflects that in her orbs.  

“I see the fire in you, Girl. One day you are going to be much more relevant. I know you want that. So here is a piece of advice I will give. This is exactly how wars are won. Knowledge is power. Men who go to the battlefield depending on their swords are fools. Battles are won with strategies, not swords.”

You can only nod.

—----

The brothel is bustling with soldiers, merchants and nobles—drinking, laughing, and gambling with half-naked women on their laps.  With a dark hood protecting your identity and your hair braided tight you move past the roaring tables.

“Katherine of Waileswere.” You ask a barmaid who gestures towards the shut door.

Evading the drunk patrons, you walk towards the door, taking the shadows to be as discreet as possible. You knock on the door, but another girl answers the door instead of Katherine. The translucent cloth over her torse does little to cover her, but she does not seem concerned. 

“Is Katherine of Wailswere inside?” You ask her, the fluttering curtains hinder your view. However, the faint whispers along with giggling give you the answer. 

“She’s occupied at the moment.”

“This is urgent. I need to see her.”

“But the patron is a noble…” You do not care, walking right in.

“Noble from the court?” the girl opens her mouth the answer but you add anyway “Does not matter, I shall wait.” 

You will never admit but you regret the moment you say it because the moans and gasps of pleasure along with a peal of hushed, honeyed but deep laughter fill the room. The opaque curtains keep the section of the room hidden but only in sight. You cannot help the heat that warms your cheeks.

 The girl chuckles at you “As you wish, My Lady” she shrugs and walks into a quieter section in the chamber. 

For a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of a lean but athletic torso and a supple, feminine thigh against the deep red walls through the opaque curtains. You frown, but make no movement to come out of the shadows or take your hood off. Even though you are curious, you know better than to get caught here. 

As a Lady-in-Waiting for the Queen, you have certain decorum to maintain, especially when you aspire to be a part of the court someday.

People will laugh at you if they come to know that. But you do not care. You have dared to dream and here you are, having the Queen’s favour. Your ambitions are beyond that, they always have been.

Lost in musings, you never notice Katherine walking out. She notices you before you realise.

“Do we have a guest here?” 

Her alluring voice matches with her tantalising and enchanting aura. You understand why men go mad over a night for her—lovers, husbands, nobles, merchants—anyone who can pay the hefty prize that comes with the moments of molten gold over her golden skin, and yet it is she who shall be called the whore, no those men. It’s a good thing that she works for the Queen, she is an excellent source of information and gossip.

“Katherine, I….” Your gaze shifts behind her as the man she has been with saunters out, and you realise you have been too quick to remove your hood.

His glistening body is something that pulls at the gaze. It is tanned to a beautiful bronze, radiant under the daylight filtering inside. He is lean but the hard lines of muscles give away his experience on the battlefield, along with the deep scars. One, in particular, stands out, mapping almost the whole of his stomach in a straight, deep-hued line—healed but not vanished. You wonder what awful things he has stood witness to before your eyes meet his, and you can tell, many.

Recognition flashes in those deep pools that you fear, can cage your soul before he raises a questioning eyebrow, brushing his tousled hair back with his fingers.

“My, my, what do we have here? A lady from the Queen’s chamber?”

You gulp, trying to gather your bearings, well aware of the possibly grave mistake you have made by exposing yourself to the gaze of a man whose intentions are still unclear.

“I-I have come with an invitation from the court for the evening’s events.” You hate the stutter that accompanies your lie and you’re afraid that a man like John sees right through you.

“And they send the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting? No soldier? This can be a dangerous place for a lady.”

His words confirm your fear.

“Katherine is well-acquainted with the court. This place is not for everyone.” You counter.

Lord John’s head tilts with a scoff and you cannot help but admire the way his hair, otherwise always set to perfection has turned damp with a few strands falling alluringly on his forehead.

“Every man is a monster when given the opportunity.” He says, fastening his pants and your gaze drops to the corner. You can practically feel his gaze on you.

To distract yourself, you turn to Katherine “From the…court.” You offer her the letter from the Queen, she understands and only nods. 

Suddenly, the door opens and a girl rushes in “The knights are here, they say they want to have a word with Katherine.” 

The urgency in her voice makes your blood run cold. You do not even realise it but your gaze gravitates towards Lord John, who easily reads the panic flushing through you by your eyes. You almost expect him to mock you—your lie has been exposed, after all. But instead, he quickly advances and pulls you towards the room.

“What are you—-”

“Here, you can escape through the window, quick!” 

His voice is hushed and urgent as he pushes you towards the low window—it is the ground floor, you do not even have to jump. Despite the questions running through your mind, you comply, quickly making an escape, just as you hear the room’s door burst open. 

You know you should leave, but you cannot bring yourself to. Instead, you put on the hood once more and wait behind a building. What feels like hours later, you watch the knights march past you angrily as you hide in the shadows.

They seem to have not been able to get what they want. You frown but as soon as you turn to find your way out of the place, you come face to face with the familiar tanned chest peeking behind the linen cloth.

“Just as I thought,” he comments as you look up and realise how tall he is. Towering over you with his amused but watchful gaze “Lady, if anyone sees you here, you will be in grave trouble.”

“I was worried.”

“About me?” 

“About Katherine.” You narrow your eyes, although while you say that, you realise that it might not be entirely true.

“Uh-huh? She is safe, they won’t dare challenge me, I must admit though, I expected the knights here to be braver.”

“They would not challenge a royal guest.” You begin to walk ahead, but he catches up with you.

“And I thought she received an invitation from the court itself.” The mockery is clear in his voice and the sharpness makes your cheeks heat up slightly, you have nothing to say “Do not sweat though, you little secret shall remain with me.” 

You glare at him “I do not understand… what do you want? You have no reason to fight yet you volunteered and now you helped me escape and saved Katherine.”

“What if I have a good heart?” His dark eyes gleam with the kind of sharp cynicism that lets you know that none of his words is true. 

“Everything has a price.”

You recall one of the most valuable pieces of advice the Queen has given you “So, what possibly could you want, Lord John?”

For a moment, you brace yourself for a biting retort with the way his face hardens but he catches you off guard once more with his response-

“Everything.”

—-----

You know that you should tell the Queen about your little encounter, and what Don John said. But you cannot bring yourself to. When you let the Queen know of what happened at Katherine’s Merriment House, you cut out the conversation with Don John, after your narrow escape from the Knights. Of course, Ser Lorres was the one heading— even though he is to serve the Queen.

“I gave him no orders, the King gave the orders?”

“It is apparently in his name, yes. However, Your Grace, forgive me, for asking why would he?” 

“Then one of his trusted advisors did. I have received some news regarding Earl of Walden’s increased participation.”

“Lord Beecham?”

“Why would he whore away his daughter then?” She asks sharply and you nod

“The King…So much burden to hold but all the wrong people to share it with. Listen here, child, can I trust you?”

“Yes, yes, My Queen, I serve you, and you alone.” You mean it, if not for her, you do not even want to imagine where you would have ended up.

“I cannot wait for a response from Katherine. You must ride away to Reinckalf immediately. Carry a letter of recognition and they will let you have an audience with the Duke. Hand my letter to no one but the Duke. I do not trust the Council and I want him to know that. Do you understand how important it is?”

You nod as she hands you over the letters.

“Guard it with your life, Girl.”

“I will.” You promise, clutching them tightly between your fingers.

—--

All his life, John has been called ‘Juan’ except for his mother who called him John with a tenderness he has never found again. What he found in the palace, was humiliation, betrayal and the twisted ways of the Empire’s palace. The Emperor did not acknowledge him as his bastard son then. But it was an open secret.

All his life, John has been ostracised—he has known shame, humiliation, he is a ‘disgrace’, a ‘mistake’ and his mother was a ‘whore’. 

The mother who did everything to keep him fed and clothed. The mother who taught him to never bend his knee to this twisted world. The mother whom the Emperor used as he pleased and then cast her away. She was not from his land but worked in the palace—chambermaid of no social standing. 

He wonders, often, how she managed to give birth to him, how she managed to live so long. It is a miracle, that he lived, right in the snakes’ nest, he lived. Maybe he was sent to a battle at the age of twelve for the very reason. But he lived then, and in every other battle he was a part of. One of the commanders even took him in as a squire, and he learnt the best ways to handle weapons—it was a privilege, he was not supposed to be as good as any prince, or noble and they never let him forget that. 

After his mother passed away, he left the palace, to travel, but deep down, he knew he simply wished to be as far as possible from the twisted place.

He thought he could escape—-his reality, his truth, the burden he carried since his birth, the burden he played no role in. John has been to places, to courts—travelling, serving as a sellsword all those years, meeting and knowing many, befriending a few, but trusting none.

John has been shaped into the man he is today, through his experience, but most of it has been a long, unending dance with death. At times, he wanted someone to succeed in pitting a sword through his stubbornly beating heart, slice an artery and make him bleed till his heart ceased to beat. But alas! The bastard John lived on, grew better, quicker, cleverer.

But one day, he woke up, looked at the beautiful woman in his arms, some fellow soldiers lying around, naked, clothed, drunk, snoring after a decisive victory, and decided that he wanted to live after all. Death would come anyway, it was so certain. Life, so far, had been full of surprises—tumultuous, stern, exacting and thrilling surprises. 

By then, he was twenty and seven, he decided to return to Spain. He had acquired some recognition after these years, and the then commander was willing to take him into the Empire’s army.

The interesting thing about the arms is that despite the bias towards nobles, it provides opportunities, even to bastards like him, to rise. He led battles, he aided in military treaties, and strategies and two summers later, he was leading the men in battles. The Empire needed men like him, John knew that, and he had learnt the game. 

John wanted to live, but not as a disgrace. He wanted to rise to honour—that was all he had dreamt of, and being officially recognised by the Emperor as he stood at the cusp of thirty and two, was the closest to what he aspired to be. But John has always been ambitious, for all he has suffered, right under his father’s nose, he wanted more than just recognition and military leadership. He continued to strengthen his position in the court. From Juan, the bastard, he became, Don Juan, 

When the Crown Prince’s marriage was fixed as a strategic alliance with a Kingdom a good sail away, he decided to join the men who would reach there first, in disguise to ensure that the wind was indeed in the Empire’s favour. To him, it was nothing more than responsibility, another step on the ladder. And it had been so until he wandered into the unassuming woods to bask in solitude and clear his head. 

Until he wandered near a creek, for his beloved stallion to quench its thirst, and there, he saw you—floating so carelessly through the streams, while two of your friends chatted a distance away. He wanted to be closer, but he stepped back, hiding behind the thicket, so he could watch you, and the way hair moved along, the manner you swam on your back, eyes closed under the tender autumn sun. John’s heart had been beating in a stubborn, steady rhythm for a while, but after a long time, he felt his heart pick its pace.

He thought he might never see you again, but there you were, in the Grand Feast, and he had the most striking gaze fixed on him—not out of malice, or the arrogance he had expected, but with pure curiosity—and this time, his heart skipped a beat.

And you have been on his mind, as much as he frowns upon it, this is an undeniable truth that thrums with every beat of his heart. For now, he is aware that the Queen puts her trust in you–-the letter meant for Katherine in his hold tells him so.

—---------

“Deus adiuvet in proelio”

John bowed his head, letting the Bishop bless him and his sword before handing the naked steel back to him. 

—--

The world around you is a blur as your trusted horse rides through the forest. The cold gusts whip against you, like inhaling ice as the night rolls on, but you cannot stop to rest, you must reach Reinckalf before it is too late.

—-

“We ought to safeguard the route for supplies first, lest they capture the main route the capital shall perish. Have you sent the message to the provinces?” John enquires as he reaches his stallion—a black beauty, almost invisible in the dark.

“Yes, My Lord, their soldiers are on their way, some from the nearest provinces have joined us tonight.”

John nods.

“We must ride through the night.” He states before getting on his horse “Come on, boy.” He whispers to his trusted companion before tightening his hold on the reins.

As if his eyes developed a will of their own, his eyes turn towards the nearest tower, where some court ladies stand, most of them, to bid their loved ones a good fortune. A part of him hopes to see you among them. But he returns his gaze to the road ahead with a tinge of disappointment before squeezing his legs as his horse begins moving, followed by the rest of the men.

—--

The room is quiet, except for the crackling of the fireplace and the rustle of the Duke’s clothes as his eyes take in the contents of the letters the Queen has sent you all the way to this place. You have ridden through the night and dawn, finally reaching the gates of the Reinckalf.

As soon as he raises, you follow.

“My men shall meet the King’s army eastward. The maids shall lead you to a chamber, you are free to ride back to the capital, My lady. A battleground is no place for a Lady.”

“Yes, my Lord, I know so. But I have vowed to return to the Queen only with a pleasant word.” You bow before meeting his eyes.

The Duke stands as if studying you briefly before nodding  “As you wish.”

—-------

“The Eastern Provinces may sympathise with the fallen King, and since George, the Queen’s cousin, is the only male heir, they may refrain from sending their men to fight against him, at best.” The Earl of Easterwood states as he stands with John in his chamber. “If forces are joining, Esterwood castle walls can hold them for only so long. But since the army has arrived from the capital, we are relieved.”

“John eyes the layout along the table-sized map.” 

“How many of the barons fought with the previous King?”

“The previous earl was armed by more than a handful of them before they reluctantly surrendered.”

“And how many men do they have right now?”

“I’m afraid, we have no exact numbers, My Lord.”

John’s gaze is sharp as he glances up, but he says nothing and returns his focus to the map. “How many days will it take for the Northerners to reach?”

“If they are fast as they claim, two more days, My Lord.”

“But we have less time if George is marching forward.”

“They say the French have provided them with some of their best troops, two sakers.”

John sighs “I see. Prepare your men, put them on guard for the castle.” 

“At your command Lord Juan,” the Earl bows as John walks past him. 

—-----

“I believe that you are well-acquainted with the histories of this land?” The Duke asks as you ride beside him, two bannermen trotting ahead on their horses while his troops ride behind you two.

“I have, as a lady must, my lord.”

“Then you must have noticed that tis a cycle, my lady. A King is crowned, then comes another,  and another, cities burn, villages are plundered, hundreds die until an empire crumbles to ashes.”

“Then comes another.” You add in a hushed tone, speaking more or less to yourself. “But we must do our duty.” You conclude, raising your chin.

“People have walked through blood to reach the throne, My Lady. I have seen the Queen’s father rule over this Kingdom, and I am seeing her husband rule over this Kingdom—there is no duty—there is only blood.”

You eye him, wary, intrigued and confused “The Queen tells me that you are her friend.”

“I assure you of my allegiance with the Queen. We have been friends since we were children.”

“I would not dare to question your loyalty, My Lord.” You assure him. Offending a man of his stature is the last thing on your mind.

“When we face the enemies tomorrow, My Lady, you shall see my loyalty anyway, and let the Queen know, that she has friends, true friends still.” He states as they continue through the trodden road.

—---

“John, will you tell us what is going in your head?” Borachio and Conrade follow John as they ride deeper into the woods.

“For now we are taking cover. I do not wish to be dead anywhere other than the battlefield.”

“So honourable and glorious.” Conrade comments with a chuckle

“You think I am honourable? Do you think I seek glory?” John scoffs, glancing at his friend. "They're all built on lies."

“Why are we here?” Borachio asks

“Because nothing matters in a war, only victory,” John responds as his stallion stops at a point. They can now see the enemy camp but are perfectly hidden from sight.

—--

It has been a long day for the soldier. Other than the village, they plundered on their way, and they had no rest or food.

 ‘Rest’ is not the way to describe how he and his friend barged into one of the many cottages. It was dark inside, but there was unmistakably a woman there. His friend threatened her with his dagger while he grabbed some fruits and bread.

He does not remember her face or know her name, but now, as he lays in the tent, guarding the cannon balls and some steel, her cries haunt him. His friend held her down by the neck while he tore her clothes and thrust inside her. And after he was done, his friend took his turn before he cut her throat and left the cottage to burn. 

He closes his eyes, feeling much lighter without the armour. Sleep is not far away either. He is tired and they have been travelling. Tomorrow may—

The sudden smell of smoke catches him off guard. He springs on his feet, frantically looking around. His eyes widen as he sees one of the tent walls in flames, nearing the containers for explosives and canon balls, placed along with a pile of others.

“N—!” 

But it is too late, as the tent explodes with a deafening boom, throwing the camp into a burning, bloody and miserable chaos. It gives way to many more explosions and fires like cards inevitably falling one after another.

And amidst the havoc, three men slip away into the woods, unnoticed. 

—------

“Good Lord! How did you know they have already reached?” The realisation and fear dawn upon Borachio as the adrenaline wears off while they ride through the woods.

“Before we reached here. Lord Beecham said that he had information regarding the route they had taken. He most obvious lie I have heard here. Lord Beecham is no friend of the King.”

“What is it to you? Why do you risk us, yourself for this?” 

John turns to Borachio, as their horses trot through the woodland “Because I want to.”

“You never walk on a whim.” Conrade pushes.

There is no trace of pride in his eyes for what he has done. He simply has done what was needed to be done to gain the upper hand.

“Then you know me.” That is all the explanation John provides them with as they ride back to the palace.

“Be prepared for tomorrow.” He breaks the stretched silence during their ride back once the horses are back in the stable.

—----

The early arrival of the George, backed by the French Army at Esterwood catches most off guard. 

The battle has been decided tomorrow, why not today?” The earl wonders aloud as he shows John potential battlegrounds.

“Because they are not prepared yet,” John replies before putting a paperweight over a shallow hill on the map.

“The Northerners are yet to arrive, we are short of men. If Esterwood falls, it shall be a blow to the Crown---a humiliation! George will win.”

“I understand, My Lord, and that is why, we take downhill.”

“What? You baffle me good Lord, why take such a disadvantageous position?”

“You have a great knowledge of the geography here?”

“I assure you, I do.”

“Then prepare your men and send them the message to meet us tomorrow at the uphill.”

“But that gives them momentum.”

“That is what I want. Here,” he raises the paperweight and points near the hill, “if I am not wrong, is a bog. I want the troops to start working on the spears”

—---

The sun rises with two royal sigils against each other on the battleground. 

“Take positions!”

John commands and the men behind him point their spears. 

“Archers! Take positions!”

He commands again and the archers positioned strategically ready themselves and their bows.

“Lord Commander, who gave you information about the troops?”

“I believe a handful of barons holds sympathy for the Pretender.” The older man sighs, eyeing the expanded enemy troops, holding up the sigil that once stood over the capital of the Kingdom.

“Where are the Northerners?” 

“On their way, I assure you. The enemies have reached long before the estimated time.”

John gives him a sharp glance before straightening up.

“Either way, we must fight. And we must win” 

With that, he puts on his helmet, and the heavy metal clanks against his armour as he positions his sword over his horse, the men on foot have already taken position around the bog. 

Finally, the Lord Commander raises his sword and the horns blow.

—--

From a vantage point of view, it might look like ants rushing down a slope, pointed and organised initially, until they reach the bottom and their horses fail. Like a pile of cards, they fall. And that is when the men around the bog charge with arrows raining down.

Speas, swords, blood, dirt and mud, all become one on the wet ground. Those who manage to escape the bog—-on foot or on horse, are met by John and other men on their horses. But that is not enough. With a command to charge them on foot, John gets off his stallion and charges towards the incoming enemies with his naked sword.

The epics and the ballads sing of such scenes as glorious, something heroic. The plays, the paintings, the history records—all paint them in golden light. 

In reality, there is nothing heroic, or glorious about battles—it is simply men trying to survive. And there is only one way to survive on a battlefield without humiliation–to fight, to keep fighting. John’s breaths come out as gasps as he pushes, cuts, punches and wrestles through the armoured men.

It is a brutal chaos. Fight and live, or fight until you die.

His sword clashes with another's, he is swift on his feet—he has fought worse. He stands his ground, swiftly using his shield to protect himself against the incoming blows before attacking again. His sword meets his rival’s shield thrice before another armoured man attracts. But John is swift to move away and take position again. Using this shield, he hits one on the head, destabilising him before taking off his metal helmet and hitting one with it. It gives him enough time to push him onto the ground and swiftly push his sword through the gap, the blood and the sounds of the flesh being pierced are drowned by the man's short-lived but blood-curdling scream before he falls limp while John blocks another hit from the other man with his shield. His hands shake under the attack but he refuses to budge.

So much within a span of a moment. His attention shifts to the other man’s raised sword before John blocks with his shield again before getting back on his feet. He quickly attacks one of the approaching horses, cutting off the strap as the man on it falls on his current, bloodthirsty rival. Giving the fallen soldier no time to think, John takes his dagger and stabs the man in his eyes through the gap in his helmet before forcefully pulling off his helmet and stabbing him through the neck. He barely even looks into his eyes before pushing the body away and finally holding the man he has been fighting down, kicking his shield away and hitting him with his armoured head with his helmet until it bends. Finally, he takes off the helmet and hits his enemy’s bare and vulnerable head with his helmet with gritted teeth and lips curled up in a snarl until his face is marred with his rival’s blood and his rival, dead underneath him. 

But the battle is far from over and victory is not near enough. Back on his feet, John pushes and punches through armoured men, grabbing one in an armlock before hitting his head with the back of his sword. He throws him on the ground, where he is stomped over by the rest of the fighting soldiers and frightened horses.

Breathlessly, he fights through, until he hears horns at a distance. His eyes move to the source as relief washes over him at the sight of Reinkalf’s sigil along with the Kigdom’s. There is cheer, uproar and newfound vigour as the men fight.

“The Northern army!” Another man roars. 

From the other side rides down a large, imposing army from the north, scattering and completely overpowering the rest of the French troops. Their horses and swords cut through the enemy forces swiftly.

This indeed is his day.

John can’t help but think as a rare laugh bursts out of his bloodied mouth before he pushes against and attacks the enemy soldiers with newfound vigour.

It is a decided battle now, but his eyes search for George. As he fights through the men, reaching the middle, he misses a swordsman rising on his feet before it is too late, he is hurled on the ground, mud in his eyes and a heavy, armoured hand comes for for his jaw. John spits out blood, disoriented, half-blinded but swift enough to block another blow with his hands. His hand grabs a fallen helmet before he swings it on the man over his with full force. Breathless and bloody, he spits out again before snatching swinging the helmet again, and again, and again. Until the man falls beside him. Swiftly, John climbs over him and continues to hit him with the helmet until it breaks. Taking his dagger, he plunges it through the gap of the helmet.

Breathless and exhausted, he reluctantly takes off the armour protecting his torse—it is slowing him down. This man almost had him. He turns to swiftly block another incoming sword with his. Now much lighter and quicker, he easily manoeuvres through the battlefield. His sword slices through metal and flesh, leaving it dripping with warm blood.

 He can almost taste victory along with the mud and grass until he feels the sudden piercing of a dagger on the left of his torso. He growls and turns to the attacker.

He is not wearing the enemy’s armour.  

But he has no time to think through as the armoured man hits him with his shield, throwing him on the ground. John moves as fast as he can, rolling away deeper into the fighting ground spitting blood, and feeling the warm liquid flowing down from the side of his face.

The horns of victory blow, but it is all muffled by John, who finds his breath slowing as his vision dims.

*****

Phew! A long, boring chapter. But do not worry, things will pick up pace in the next.

[joonie7007]

This is the whole (sum?) of your boyfriend literally:

I love robot chicken 🫶🏻‼️‼️(I love this route and I will forever choose [this route?])

Just the thought of him carrying us back to his place with a torn up leg for NOT ONLY THAT CUTTING 1/3 of my dang leg LIKE WHAT ‼️❓ KNOW UR PROPORTIONS OR SOMETHING IDK 🫵🏼😤

I can’t wait for more days <3

Also the sneak peeks of the other days/and there’s so many other routes? Too AHH-

Also show support to them cause if im tweaking about this just imagine yall playing the game-

(RESPECT THE CREATORS RULES YA KNOW ONLY PLAY THIS 18+)

Plus it’s just a dollar yuhh

I know they make plushies but imagine if they did these too (especially the scented one the smell of forever lasting raspberries or strawberries HM YES 😤😋‼️)

(I haven’t played a lot since I’m so tired from work;-;) I’ll play I’m going to play…

[my-quirk-is-fred]

Y’all Fuboo deadass sent a C&D to Sera… for talking about things that are already public

[cozymoko]

Hello, I think requests are open.

I saw the list of animes you write for.

What do you think Jaeha, Zeno and So-woon(Akatsuki no Yona) reaction to a S/O who's a goddess more ancient than the dragons and uses human form to travel for a long time yet lose her memories every century as protection mechanism she placed on herself as she keeps doing the mistake of holding mortals too dear then falling into grief whenever they die, now she's thinking of turning them to a fellow god(privilege that can given to a god's soulmate only) after they die and she's finally willing to go back to heaven and restore her full memories?

OH MY GODDESS!!

Synopsis: The reader is an ancient God who travels as a human, but every century loses her memory to protect themselves. Now, she's debating on turning her love interest into a god to return to heaven with her.

Note: I made this have any obsessive love because when most people meet a god(ess) they'll want to worship them in my opinion. Deities have that effect on people.

Pairing: Jae-ha x female! reader, Zeno x female! reader, Soo-Won x female! reader

WARNING(S): slight obsession, angst in Zeno's part

Links: AKATSUKI NO YONA MASTERLIST, NAVIGATION

JAE-HA

BEING THE WOMANIZER he is, Jae-ha has come across his fair share of pretty faces; but he didn't expect a goddess to be one of them. It was evident that you were from the heavens, blessed with ineffable amounts of beauty and an ambiance just as tempting. It was no surprise the man would look to pursue you.

It's decided; he shall join you in the afterlife. As your one and only, to bask in your beauty and grace until the sun touches the horizon. Somehow you managed to sweep the playboy off his feet in record-breaking time, although that's supposedly his job. It was almost embarrassing how fast he accepted your proposal, so much so that a deep red tinge can be seen dusting his cheeks. Never had he been so enamored with a woman, one way out of his league at that.

Now the memory aspect has piqued his interest. Relationships are precious, insightful even, so why would you want to forget them? Regardless, he respects your decision. Yet over time, Jae-Ha soon realizes he'd rather you lose all memories that don't include him. After all, he's a bit jealous of all the experiences you may have had with your past lovers, and he'd rather not have any more competition than needed.

“Oh my, I believe it's that time, isn't it? Let us go to the heavens above where we shall become one. Unfortunately, I don't think I can take the anticipation much longer darling.”

ZENO

A REAL LIFE GODDESS in the flesh? Woah, this must be his lucky day. Like with most things in life, Zeno is ecstatic. Through the many centuries he's lived, not once has he been graced with the presence of a deity such as yourself. Beautiful doesn't begin to describe the beauty that endowed you. It was as though he was looking a fairy tale princess right in the eyes. Various compliments spilled from his smiling lips faster than he could account for. If he was feeling even the slightest bit of shame you had not noticed.

This being your human form enticed him to dig up the real you. He would hate to k now you're hiding anything from him. You are not obligated to unveil what you desire not to, but he'd rather bask in as much of your authenticity as "humanely" possible. Zeno is quite jealous of your ability to forget about the past, and until he met you he wished to do the same. Maybe then would he be able to start all over again and experience life one step at a time with you sticking closely by his side.

Zeno's dragon grants him the gift of immortality so dying is out of the question. He has lived to see many dragons come and go, greeted by death and to god knows where. It saddens him that even with his new powers he won't be able to fulfill your wishes. In the end, Zeno's purpose is to serve Yona and no one else. But only one woman can make his heart beat so sporadically, rendering him speechless each time they meet eyes.

“It's a shame, y'know? I really wish I could go with you and keep you company. Hah—!? Don't cry; we'll figure something out, I'm sure of it!”

SO-WOON

SOMEONE SO POWERFUL should have never taken interest in him, but oh is he glad they did. A deity, from the heavens nonetheless, had come before him with curiosity at that. Just a short conversation with you proved how extensive your knowledge is. And from the sound of it, you were much older than many mythical beings of this time. So as one does, Soo-Won ponders ways to use that to his advantage, even if it meant deceiving you. However, that was before he put his plan into motion.

Soo-Won was destined to fall deeper and deeper into the alluring solace of the goddess he had merely hoped to use. Now, the man wished to undress her, uncovering every inch of her ravishing skin; so perfect and warm. He wished to taint her with his blooded hands so she could learn to love his true nature as he loved hers. He realizes his selfishness but he simply doesn't care. There shall be no lies between you two and he'll make sure of it.

He would long for nothing more than to be with you until his last breath, even if he does not deserve to. The sins he's committed should send him nowhere but the raging depths of hell. However, he will not lose you to those cocky bastards that resided above the clouds who were waiting to take his place. And he will never allow you to erase anything regarding your future, together for eternity.

“My beautiful goddess, where have you gone? I was worried sick; Hah...I'd thought those disposable fools had gotten to you. With your permission, I shall get rid of them in your stead.”

[yandere-toons]

Pov: lesbian reader's gf texts them but they're hanging out with FOWL

Steelbeak is who they're taking for a walk. He's like the guard dog who's bigger than the person with him. He recognises the gf's name in an instant and shoots the reader a thumbs-up, intent on watching their phone screen to make sure the whole exchange goes smoothly.

Bradford has tried to coach them on what they can and can't say, wishing to avoid a repeat of the kidnapping incident. Yet since a buzzard may never be too paranoid in his line of work, he demands that Gandra bug their phone. He listens in on a few of the texts, but the raw levels of affection and trust repel him.

Gandra gets stuck with that responsibility as well.

The tire screech is incredible — it's a black limousine with tinted windows and no license plate. Jeeves has taken the wheel and skidded to a stop in the middle of a four-way intersection, now stepping out of the car and opening the backdoor to reveal a small party.

Rockerduck is drinking a centuries-old bottle of wine, pinkie outstretched, and telling tales of how he conquered the West. Don Karnage leans into the sunlight to greet the reader, strumming and singing and tapping his foot in unison.

[b4nryfoster]