❤︎ You surprise your adoring boyfriend with a special performance! ❤︎
❤︎ Trigger & Content Warnings: Google translated French… *shudders* ❤︎
• this came to me in a vision… please enjoy!!! I haven’t gotten very far in the game, so it probably isn’t lore accurate :( (this man is my fave in twst by farrrrrr) •
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Rook watched you enter the lobby of Pomefiore.
His partner.
Sa beauté préférée.
“Rook!”
You smiled and his heart soared.
“Mon amour! Pourquoi m'avez-vous honoré de votre présence?”
You giggled, his flowery language reminded you of a prince from a fairy tale you’d read when you were a little kid.
“I have a surprise for you, but I need to prepare it. It may take a little while, but could you try to not watch me while I get it ready? I want your reaction to be true!”
“Of course, mon ange. Whatever you need! Please inform me when you need to be left alone.”
His smile brightened.
Your heart beat fast, even though you’d been dating him for quite some time now. You’d never get used to how beautiful he was.
“Thanks, Rook! I’m going to get started on it, so maybe an hour or two alone? I’ll text you once I have it hidden.”
He nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek, then waved as you left.
He sighed, a lovesick expression forming on his face.
A partner like you came once in a century, how did he get so lucky to be the one graced with your love?
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
You were practically vibrating with excitement.
Back in your world, you had been talented at opera singing since you were young, even becoming famous as a young child.
Now, you kept the skill but didn’t have the fame, which was honestly a relief. It meant surprises like this were completely unexpected, even to your very observant boyfriend.
The sheet music to this piece was scattered across your bed. Grim stared at the papers, then at you.
“So, you’re gonna sing this?”
“What’s with the tone? You don’t believe that I can sing?”
“You don’t seem like the singing type.”
You rolled your eyes and shook your head fondly.
“Well, I’m good at it… here, can you listen to the recording? I need someone to listen for mistakes.”
“You’re MY henchman, not the other way around! I ain’t doing this for nothing.”
“Once I perfect it and sing it for Rook, I’ll get you extra tuna.”
“…hmph, fine!”
Grim listened to the song, his eyes widening when he realized that you were confident you could sing it.
The song ended. Grim nearly fell backwards when you started warming up your voice and hit your highest note.
“Woah! How long have ya been able to do that?”
“A while. I’ve been singing since I was little.”
He nodded and turned to the sheet music.
“Are ya done with the fancy stuff yet? I wanna hear this coming from my henchman.”
You chuckled and continued warming up.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
“…Mais si je t'aime, si je t'aime, Prends garde à toi!”
You sighed as you finished your third run through of the aria.
“How’d it sound? Did I fix the mistakes?”
“Sounded good to me. Maybe ya should have someone else double check?”
“That’s a surprisingly good idea.”
“Thanks- wait! I can make good ideas! I make ‘em all the time!”
You giggled and picked up your phone.
“Hm… let’s go see Ace and Deuce. I don’t think they’re busy right now.”
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
You entered the Heartslabyul dorms, looking for Ace and Deuce.
“Hey, Prefect! Got your message, what’s this song you wanted us to listen to?”
Ace ran up to you, Deuce close behind him.
“It’s an aria—Habanera. I’m surprising Rook with it, so I want it to be perfect.”
“Well, we’d love to help!”
Deuce smiled and Ace elbowed him in the side.
You rushed them to a more private area to sing it without eavesdropping.
“Alright, I’ll play the recording, then I’ll sing it. Can you listen for any mistakes?”
They nodded and listened to the recording.
Before they could go off on a tangent, you cleared your throat and started singing.
Deuce froze in shock and Ace’s jaw dropped.
“Okay, that sounded perfect. I’m not even joking, you’re amazing!”
Ace encouraged you, but Deuce was still wide eyed.
“Y-yeah, you’re actually the best singer I’ve ever heard.”
You blushed and waved off their compliments, a goofy smile on your lips.
“Aw, thanks! So, you think it sounds good?”
“Mhm!”
They said it in unison, then looked at each other.
Ace said jinx first. Deuce pouted and mimed zipping his lips shut, then walked off to scrounge up a soda.
“He’s gonna love it.”
You thanked Ace and ran back to Ramshackle.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
A few more days passed. You’d been practicing your performance nonstop and felt completely confident with it.
You decided it was time to show Rook your skills.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Rook was in his room, finishing up the last of his homework.
He heard his phone ping. He looked over and smiled when he saw your name appear.
“Ah, mon trésor!”
Rook immediately checked your message.
“An invitation to Ramshackle? Well, perhaps this is the surprise…”
He rose, deciding his work could wait for a moment.
He quickly snuck out the window—although Vil wasn’t even in the Pomefiore dorms at the moment, he could’ve just left like a normal person.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
He stood at your window, waiting patiently for you to unlock it.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you noticed him there—he always did this yet it scared you every time.
He climbed into the room, smiling and resting his hands on your hips.
“Mon cœur, est-ce la surprise dont tu parlais?”
He was referring to your outfit.
You had donned something more fitting for the story of Carmen—where the aria you’d prepared was from.
“Well, it’s part of it! Sit down, I have more for you!”
You placed a hand on his chest, kissing him deeply before shooing him back.
He obeyed, resting on your bed.
Rook was about to compliment your outfit when you cleared your throat and pressed something on your phone.
Music swelled from a small speaker you’d set up, and you began to sing.
His eyes widened as he realized that you weren’t just singing about love, you were singing it in the language he preferred.
His heart swelled with pride and in awe as you continued.
Each word wove perfectly into his view of you—he could practically picture you in the story itself. His eyes began to well up with emotion, and he had to cover his mouth.
Perhaps, if he remained silent, this moment would never end. You’d continue to sing for him for eternity and he’d be able to bask in your beauty for eternity.
Unfortunately, the aria could not go on forever, and you opened your eyes as you finished singing.
“So? What do you think?”
You gasped and rushed to him when you saw the tears running down his face.
“Are you okay? Rook, were the lyrics upsetting?”
He shook his head, a wide smile revealing itself.
He pulled you close, pressing his face into your neck.
“Mon amour, je ne pourrais jamais souhaiter plus. You are perfection encapsulated in the most beautiful form to ever grace this world.”
You blushed and tried to pull back. You wanted to see his face.
“No, not yet. Please, allow me to remain like this for a few more moments.”
You nodded the best you could—his face still in your neck—and eased yourself onto the bed. You laid down, your hand rubbing at his back.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
“Love, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been like this for hours.”
“Je viens de… you are too perfect to let go. Please, grace me with your voice over and over again. I’ve never experienced such pure love as I just did.”
You smiled, running your hands through his hair.
You’d need to start doing this more often if it meant he’d be so cuddly.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
Rook woke before you did.
He wished he’d been able to share one more kiss before you’d fallen asleep, but he wasn’t exactly complaining—any time spent with you was the best time of his life.
Your slow, even breathing had lured him into a deep sleep. He’d never felt this rested before.
“Unfortunately, my dear, I must go.”
He whispered in your ear, then pressed soft kisses across your face and shoulders.
He slowly lifted himself off of you, careful to keep you in your peaceful state.
“Hm, I’ll have to write a note for you…”
Rook rushed to grab a sheet of paper from your desk, writing a letter to you.
What was contained within it, well, that’s a secret for just you and him to share.
˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗
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Please don’t: copy my work or claim it as your own, feed to AI, or repost on other platforms without permission.
⟡ You and your darling boyfriend stargaze and cuddle in the grass! ⟡
⟡ Trigger & Content Warnings: None! ⟡
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
You were near the edge of a pond, the cool air of the night causing your skin to prickle.
You gazed at the night sky, smiling as you heard Malleus—your lovely boyfriend—approaching you.
“My dear, what are you doing?”
“Stargazing. Want to join me?”
Malleus sat next to you, wordlessly keeping you company.
That was until you decided that he needed to be cuddled.
“Tsunotaro?”
“Yes, love?”
“Can you lay down for a little while?”
“Of course, but why?”
“You’ll see!”
He eased his back onto the grass, turning his head to look at you inquisitively.
Just as he was about to ask why again, you crawled over and rested your head on his chest.
His heart began beating faster. He adjusted the arm you were laying on to wrap around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach.
You shifted to meet his eyes. His pupils were dilated.
“Thank you, child of man.”
Your heart warmed at the audible adoration in his voice.
“Of course, Tsunotaro! You looked so pretty and you look even better when you’re happy.”
He pressed a kiss to your lips, your bodies intertwining with each other.
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
Hours had passed by, and you two had remained in the same spot, occasionally chatting about what you wanted to do together.
“We should go to that castle you mentioned wanting to visit!”
Malleus smiled.
“That sounds perfect, my dear. We’ll have to find a time to go.”
You slowly moved your arm. It had fallen asleep and the sensation was growing unbearable.
Your hand fell on his waist, and you felt his hand cover yours.
“Tsunotaro, do you wish I had more nicknames for you? You have so many for me!”
“I do not mind, whatever you’re happy with. I care that you still enjoy conversation with me, I am not very experienced with it.”
“Of course I love talking to you! You’re so sweet, who wouldn’t like you?”
He chuckled.
“You’d be surprised, love. I believe it is more so my appearance or hobbies that drive people away.”
“Well, I love you for who you are! Plus, gargoyles are surprisingly interesting. You look so excited when you get to talk about them.”
He turned to look you in the eyes, then smiled widely.
A light blush rose on your face—how could he be so beautiful?
“Hm, you look so pretty today… how can you look like this, it’s unfair!”
“How so, my jewel?”
“You’re the most gorgeous prince ever, and I’m some random person! I don’t know how I ever found you.”
His smile softened and his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.
“Darling, you’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met. I’m truly the lucky one to meet you.”
Your eyes widened and you had to press your face closer to his chest. Maybe you could hide your blushing?
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
Malleus eventually heard you drift off to sleep, and he decided he’d prefer you to wake in your own bed rather than on the ground.
Sure, the view here was incredible—the lake almost seemed to glow from the moon and fireflies around, but it wasn’t the safest place.
He carefully lifted you into his arms, smiling at your face squishing against his shoulder.
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
He teleported the both of you directly into Ramshackle, and he made his way to your bed.
Malleus delicately rested you onto your bed, admiring your form as you squirmed in your sleep.
You looked so elegant, even with your clothes rumpled from lying in the grass.
He settled into the bed next to you, figuring it’d be best to stay for the night—it certainly wasn’t for his own selfish desire to be the first thing you’d see when you woke… it was to ensure you wouldn’t be startled waking in a place you hadn’t been in when you’d dozed off.
・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・
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𖦹 What happens when Idia’s partner is accidentally turned into a cat for a day? 𖦹
𖦹 Trigger & Content Warnings: None! 𖦹
•I love Idia sm he just had to be in my first twst fic•
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
“Shoot, are you okay?”
Ace was looking at you with concerned eyes, though you could see some fear in them as well.
Deuce smacked him on the back of the head.
“Ace, if you hadn’t knocked over half of the ingredients, they wouldn’t have been turned into a cat!”
You stared at your ‘best friends’, though they didn’t feel like it at the moment.
They’d had a mishap during potionology that resulted in you being turned into a cat.
You hissed at them, and they stopped arguing.
“Uh, you good?”
You rolled your eyes—you didn’t know cats could do that.
Deciding that it’d be best to leave the idiots to fight it out, you started running from them.
They shouted and tried to chase after you, but you ducked under a fence in Heartslabyul that they couldn’t jump easily.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
You were padding down a familiar hallway; the pathway to Ignihyde’s lounge.
It was a place you visited often, you’d always wait there and chat with Ortho before Idia—his tablet, of course—met you there.
He always greeted you via tablet before you ‘snuck’ into his dorm.
No one ever noticed or cared that you were constantly in Idia’s room, Ortho was just happy to have a “future sibling-in-law!”
“Oh, a cat?”
You glances up and saw Ortho staring at you.
He gently lifted you and flew to Idia’s room, knocking on the door and throwing it open without a response.
Idia shrieked.
“GAH! ORTHO, PLEASE GIVE ME TIME TO RESPOND!”
“Oh, sorry, big brother!”
Idia sighed, then paused when he saw you cradled in Ortho’s arms.
“Aw, a kitty?”
“Yes, I found them in the lounge. I have no idea how they got there, but they seemed to know the way.”
Idia crept over to you, lifting you from Ortho’s arms and slowly petting your head.
“Thanks for bringing them here, Ortho. Maybe they’re someone’s pet.”
“Actually, Idia, my scans say that they’re-“
A crash echoed from some hallway.
“Oh, I’ll go check what that was!”
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Idia sat on his bed, you were curled into a ball on his lap.
“Now, kitty, what’s your name?”
He scratched at your neck, and you purred.
He practically had heart eyes, he adored you so much.
You wondered how he’d feel if he knew that he was cradling his partner and not a random stray.
“Hm, you’re so soft. You must have an owner, there’s no way a stray could be so neatly groomed…”
You think that was a compliment. You decided to take it as one.
There was a knock at Idia’s door.
“Big brother, may I come in?”
“Yes, Ortho!”
Ortho carefully opened the door, not wanting to spook you.
“As I was saying earlier, that’s not a stray.”
“Yes, I’m aware… is there a ‘but’ to this situation?”
“That’s your partner, big brother.”
Idia’s hair started to tint pink, then suddenly exploded into bright magenta hues.
“Eh?”
“I asked Ace and Deuce if they’d seen them, and they said there was an accident in potionology. Plus, my scans kept saying that the cat was them.”
“…oh.”
Idia looked like he was going to die of embarrassment. A drop of sweat made its way from his temple to his chin, more following its path.
“W-well, I suppose we should bring them back to Grimshackle, right?”
Ortho nodded and hummed, reaching to pick you up.
You felt bad about doing this, but you swatted at him.
Idia’s lap was comfortable, and you loved seeing the relaxed side of him. Therefore, it only made sense to stay exactly where you were.
“N-Name! You can’t just do th-that!”
Idia scolded you, but you started to creep even closer to him, rubbing your snout on his chest.
His hair turned bright red and his hands shook a bit.
Ortho smiled and left the room, picking up on the hint.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
It was late at night, and Idia was playing a visual novel game he’d heard you recommend a few weeks ago.
He’d ask you what choices he should make, and watch you bat at the mouse to move it to the choice you liked.
You kept pranking him by choosing the flirty options. It was hilarious to watch him have to stand and pace around the room before sitting back down.
“So, which option do you think we should choose?”
You were about to bat at his mouse when you feel a tingling sensation all over your body.
You hopped onto the ground, the sensation growing.
It was almost unbearable, then suddenly, you were back to your normal self.
“Oh! Finally, that took forever.”
“EEK!”
Idia put his hands over his face, his hair glowing pink already.
“Idia, love, I’ve been here all day. Did you forget I wasn’t just a cat?”
There was a silence slightly too long to be innocent.
“Idia!”
You slapped his arm teasingly.
He looked at you with wide eyes, then stood from his chair and hugged you. His face was buried in your neck, and his warm hair caused a slight flush to rise, just from the heat.
“Love, can we sleep? I’m tired.”
Idia hugged you tighter, which you took as a yes.
He let go for a second, and you grabbed his hand, dragging him to the bed.
You stopped at the foot of the bed, pushing Idia onto it.
He landed with a light thud.
You crawled onto him, laying your head on his chest and sprawling out.
His hair continued heating and growing red, but he wrapped his arms around your waist anyway.
“Idia?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I take a picture of us?”
“U-uh, sure. But why?”
“I wanna send it to Ace and Deuce. They tried to protect me while I was a cat but they just let me run off.”
Idia nodded, shifting so that his face wouldn’t be visible in the picture.
You pulled out your phone and turned to take the photo.
The only part of Idia you could see were his arms around your waist. You showed him the photo and he smiled, approving it.
“Let’s see…”
You opened your group chat with Ace and Deuce.
You typed a passive aggressive message and sent the photo.
They replied almost immediately, saying that they were glad you’re okay—Ace didn’t apologize for losing you, but Deuce did.
“Idia, look.”
You showed him the chat, snickering at Deuce’s desperate plea for forgiveness.
He chuckled, that smirk that you loved so much appearing.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
The two of you eventually drifted off, cuddling throughout the night.
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and any support you can give is greatly appreciated!
Please don’t: copy my work or claim it as your own, feed to AI, or repost on other platforms without permission.
જ⁀➴ You and your friends have a sleepover at your dorm, little do you know, you’re about to be caught red-handed! જ⁀➴
જ⁀➴ Trigger & Content Warnings: Joke about faking your death. જ⁀➴
• Guys my bestie (who’s obsessed with Megumi) requested this!! I have a pic at the bottom of the beautiful suggestion she had. •
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
“C’mon, Nobara! We need to get everything set up perfectly!”
“It’s just for the guys, I think they’d enjoy it even if we were in a pig sty.”
You and Nobara both chuckled.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Nobara might’ve been correct about Yuji, but Megumi—your boyfriend, but no one else was aware of that… yet—was judgmental.
“So, what else do you think we’ll need?”
You watched Nobara silently check things off.
“Hm, maybe some more blankets? I’ll go grab them from my dorm!”
Nobara sprinted out of your dorm, leaving you alone.
You turned to fluff your pillows for the fifth time. Could they possibly look any softer? Well, you decided to find out.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Your phone started ringing, the caller ID displaying the name you’d proudly given Megumi—Gumi.
He hated his first name, but there was an almost invisible smirk when you’d call him Gumi in a sing-song voice.
“Hey, ‘gumi!”
“Hey. So, that sleepover’s tonight, right?”
“Yup!”
“Good, ‘cause I’m with Yuji—he insisted we go buy pajamas… I don’t think he owns any. Do you need anything while we’re out?”
“Aw, that’s so sweet! But no, I should have everything… if you want to grab some snacks that you like, go ahead! I found a movie for us to watch later.”
“Alright.”
“Love you!”
There was a pause, then Megumi quieted his tone.
“Love you too. Bye.”
He hung up just as Nobara returned to your dorm.
“Who were you calling?”
“Oh, just a friend.”
You winced internally, it felt wrong to say.
Nobara nodded, a sly look in her eyes.
“Yeah, a friend..”
You were about to say something when Nobara’s phone started buzzing.
“Oh, man. Yuji’s trying to decide what pajamas he should get.”
“Can I see? I have an impeccable sense for fashion.”
“Says the person who wore neon orange pants and a red top!”
“It looked fine!”
“You looked like a walking campfire!”
“So you’re saying I looked hot, because that’s what I’m hearing.”
Nobara sighed and rolled her eyes.
“If that’s what you want to say… then sure.”
You chose to ignore the dig at you and kept tidying the dorm room.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
“Okay, the guys said they’d be here soon, we should get into our pajamas.”
You nodded and ran to grab your comfiest pajamas from your closet.
Nobara grabbed the pajamas she’d brought over earlier.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Megumi and Yuji entered your dorm, Yuji flopping onto a bean bag while Megumi set down the snacks they’d bought.
“Hey, Megumi! Hi, Yuji!”
You ran to greet them, smiling wide.
You saw what Megumi was wearing, then had to cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.
“What. Why are you laughing?”
“Y-you’re wearing a bear onesie!”
“I told you, Yuji picked the pajamas.”
“Y-you’re a ‘gumi-bear!”
Yuji cackled when he heard what you’d said.
“Aww, look at the ‘gumi-bear!”
Nobara cooed, finally finished getting dressed.
She had on a white tank top, pajama pants with heart plastered all over them, and a beige cardigan over her tank top.
“Alright, guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then.”
Megumi turned to walk out of the dorm.
“No, wait! Sorry, Megumi.”
He turned back to you.
“Fine… I guess I can stay for the night. But at least let me put on something actually comfortable.”
Yuji groaned, standing up just to fall to his knees and beg Megumi to keep the onesie on.
“No, I have real pajamas in my bag, just give me a minute.”
He walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
“So, while he’s in there, do you two want to make a blanket fort?”
Nobara said no—she was going to make popcorn—but Yuji agreed.
You and Yuji quickly built a blanket fort that was partially strong enough to hold its weight, but you had to place some books on a few corners.
Megumi finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a hoodie that looked strangely similar to one of Gojo’s, and white sweatpants.
“Okay, I made some popcorn!”
Nobara entered the bedroom again, holding a large bowl overflowing with popcorn.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
The four of you sat on the floor, curled up in blankets. You were watching Human Earthworm 4, which Yuji had claimed was “thrilling.”
It seemed like a movie made just to show gore, you hadn’t seen anything relevant to the plot yet, and you were halfway through it.
“M‘kay, I’m going to sleep. You three have fun watching… whatever this is.”
Megumi gestured to the TV as he stood.
He silently walked right next to the bed, grabbing a throw pillow and almost immediately falling asleep.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
You were the last one awake.
Nobara had gone to bed soon after Megumi did—she was sleeping on the bean bag—and Yuji fell asleep during the movie.
So much for “thrilling.”
“Psst, Megumi.”
He groaned, waking partially and turning towards you.
“What?”
“Can we cuddle? It’s cold and I need you to warm me up.”
You said this knowing fully well Megumi always felt freezing.
“Ugh, fine. C’mere.”
He opened his arms, tugging you close once you climbed between them.
He fell asleep as soon as he buried his face in your neck, and you drifted off as you felt his breath on your neck.
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
“Aw, lil ‘gumi-bear is cuddling his lover~!”
You heard a clicking noise that sounded just like a camera.
“Mmph, what time is it?”
You managed to speak despite how drowsy you were, but you froze when you saw Nobara and Yuji smiling and taking pictures of you and Megumi.
“T-this isn’t what it looks like!”
You squeaked out, but Megumi pulled you closer as you spoke.
“Gojo-sensei is gonna love this!”
Nobara smirked as she said it.
You paled. Megumi would be furious if he found out about this.
You tried to pull yourself out of his arms, but it was too late.
Gojo teleported into the room.
“Gah!”
You, Nobara and Yuji all jumped. You always forgot he could teleport.
“Aw, my baby ‘gumi is all grown up!”
You could’ve sworn you saw a tear somehow escape from behind Gojo’s blindfold.
“Kugisaki, thanks for the pics! I’ll be using these as blackmail for years!”
Megumi mumbled something as he slowly woke, rubbing at his eyes.
“Wha-“
He paused when he saw Gojo smiling goofily.
“Y’know what? I needed a reason to fake my death anyway. Bye, everyone. See you never.”
“Babe- No!”
You yelled dramatically, pounding a fist on the floor as Megumi walked out of the room.
“I hope you know you’re never living this down.”
You sighed.
“I know, Kugisaki. I know.”
── ⋆⋅𖤓⋅⋆ ──
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and any support you can give is greatly appreciated!
Please don’t: copy my work or claim it as your own, feed to AI, or repost on other platforms without permission.
ᥫ᭡ Mello is just the best boyfriend ever, and you love his grumpy affection. ᥫ᭡
ᥫ᭡ Trigger & Content Warnings: None! ᥫ᭡
ᥫ᭡ Requested on Ao3! ᥫ᭡
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Mello stared at you.
You were dead asleep on the couch, your chest slowly rising and falling.
“Hm…”
Mello debated whether to carry you back to the bed.
He didn’t want to wake you, but you’d complain about an aching back for hours tomorrow if he didn’t.
“Alright, c’mere.”
He gently lifted you, shuffling to the bedroom.
Mello placed you on the bed, pulling the blankets over you.
He smiled when you curled up in the sheets.
Your eyebrows furrowed. You slowly rolled over, as if looking for him in your sleep.
He rolled his eyes and walked to the other side of the bed, quickly throwing on some comfortable clothes and climbing in.
You latched onto him the second he settled into the warm blankets.
He smiled, running a hand through your hair.
Your warm breath and slight snoring eventually lured him to sleep.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
You woke in the morning, smiling when you saw him.
He looked so beautiful in his sleep, when he wasn’t forcing a smirk or frown.
Of course, you loved his attitude, but the innocence on his face when he was relaxed was striking.
He groaned and slowly opened his eyes.
“What’s with the staring?”
“You’re so pretty in your sleep…”
He smirked.
“Oh, and am I not when I’m awake?”
Your eyes widened with panic. You started stuttering out an explanation, but he chuckled.
“I’m just joking, love. I know what you meant.”
You sighed with relief, then realized you’d fallen asleep on the couch the night prior.
“Wait, did you move me here from the couch?”
Mello stared at you, trying to look composed, but you saw a slight flush rise on his face.
“Aw! My little Mello does care!”
You cooed at him and squished his cheeks, giggling at the glare he was trying—and failing—to give you.
“So sweet and caring! You’re the best boyfriend ever!”
He rolled his eyes and slowly grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face.
“It’s nothing. I just didn’t want you to complain about your back all day.”
You smiled even brighter when he said that, and he knew he’d just messed up. Now you’d be gushing over him all day.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
A few hours later, Mello had gone out to buy more chocolate—he’d somehow eaten his entire stash, though he said he’d needed it because of your “insistence on affection.”
He’d left his phone on the table. You grabbed it on accident, thinking it was yours.
What made you realize it was his was the wallpaper on it.
It was a picture of you kissing him on the cheek.
You giggled. The look on his face made him look like he hated everything, but his pupils were noticeably blown in the photo.
You were so caught up in staring at his phone that you didn’t notice his return.
“Hey, babe. I’m back-“
Both of you froze when he saw his phone in your hand.
“What’re you doing?”
You tried to swallow, but your throat was dry all of a sudden.
“N-nothing! Just thought this was my phone.”
He raised an eyebrow, then gestured for you to hand him the phone.
“What’d you see on here?”
You knew there was no point in lying.
“I was staring at your wallpaper, it’s so cute!”
He smiled slightly, then sighed with relief.
“Why are you sighing? Is there something on there I should be looking for?”
You were just teasing, he knew you trusted him completely.
“No, I thought you’d seen the ring.”
He froze when he realized he’d spoken out loud.
“A ring?”
You perked up, eyes glistening.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He quickly set the bag he’d been carrying down and walked to the couch, trying to hide.
“No, Mello. What ring?”
He grunted in response.
“Hello? Earth to Mello?”
He buried his face in his hands.
You wrapped yourself around him, deciding you wouldn’t let him go until he answered.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and any support you can give is greatly appreciated!
Please don’t: copy my work or claim it as your own, feed to AI, or repost on other platforms without permission.
࣪ ִֶָ☾. ARE YOU MAN ENOUGH TO TAKE THE BLAME FOR THIS? ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
[Masterlist]
> ~3.4k Words <
ৎ𝄢 Doomed version of my OCs, Ophelia and Ryan! ৎ𝄢
ৎ𝄢 Trigger and Content Warnings: Child Abuse, Lots of Death, Implied Divorce, Mental Health Illnesses & Conditions, Cheating ৎ𝄢
ৎ𝄢 Ophelia has always been an outcast, to everyone but her best friend, Ryan. ৎ𝄢
• I sincerely apologize for any errors, I wrote this in like a day and a half, so it’s rushed and probably not edited properly! •
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia walked through her garden, her bare feet barely making a sound on the wet grass.
“I need to pick some tulips for Margaret, they always look so nice.”
She sank to her knees, her black dress pooling around her. Her hands delicately cut the fully grown flowers, caressing the petals, as if inspecting the softness.
“Hm, maybe some lace on this bouquet… I’ll have to buy some soon.”
She looked up when she felt a drop of water soak into her wavy hair.
The gloomy clouds had finally begun to release rain. She stared for a moment, mesmerized by how the clouds moved as the wind gently swept them around.
She gathered the rest of the tulips she’d need for the bouquet before rising and walking back to her home.
It was a small cottage, cloaked by vines. The small clearing was surrounded by many trees, creating a curtain of sorts. The door always squeaked a little, and the bricks smelled of clay when they absorbed the morning dew.
A slight creak welcomed her as she padded onto the wooden floor.
“Let’s see, I need to go to town, then find some dried flowers for the bouquet. Maybe I’ll call Ryan later… or I could get some commissions done.”
She silently decided she’d continue working on the piece someone had requested online, she hadn’t worked with charcoal in a few days and she missed the drying feeling of it on her palms.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia pulled on a thin pair of sandals. She preferred going barefoot, the feeling of the ground helped her to relax, but the asphalt of the town’s streets was heating as spring approached.
Her trusty shawl awaited her at the door. It was an old knitted piece that she’d found at a thrift store, and the worn fabric was soft on her pale skin.
The high collar of the shirt under her dress brushed her neck, and she hastily adjusted it to ensure she wouldn’t be distracted when trying to converse.
She found her wallet, double-checking that she had enough money left in it for the spools of lace she was going to buy. Maybe if she had some extra, she’d buy a loaf of bread to hold the hunger off until Ryan brought groceries—she always insisted she didn’t need them, but he was too sweet to refuse.
She stepped out of her home, taking a deep breath in. The musty smell of the rain filled her lungs, filling her with confidence.
She could do this. The glares and whispers wouldn’t get to her.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
She silently walked down the street, seemingly gliding forward. People in buildings glanced at her with confusion and judgement. It wasn’t every day you saw someone as pale as a ghost walk down the street, especially when they looked like they were on the verge of starvation.
The grocer watched her approach his store. He greeted her with a small nod, motioning to the lace he knew she was there for. She came every few weeks to buy that lace. The one she always used for her bouquets.
The bouquets for the graves.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan approached the old cottage.
His best friend’s cottage. The one he visited every once in a while to ensure she was still going.
Things had never been easy for Ophelia, even now, so he’d always checked on her, even when they were just children in grade school.
He always saw the bruises and scrapes on her, but never asked why. Everyone knew why. Her parents always argued and fought, even in public. Everyone saw the glazed eyes, the flinches at surprises, the tear stained cheeks.
They all ignored it.
Except for Ryan.
He was the only one to ask her how she was doing, the only one to partner with her for every assignment. The only one to do her homework while she slept for the first time in days.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia heard knocking at the door. She smiled and set her charcoal pencil down.
She moved startlingly fast, moving from her studio—the kitchen, dining room and living room all cramped into one—to the hall. She opened the front door, greeting Ryan.
“Ryan! It’s so good to see you. Please, come in. I’m just working on a commission and a bouquet.”
“It’s good to see you, too. Ophelia, I wouldn’t want to encroach on your work, I can come back later.”
“No, I was just about to take a break, anyways. Please, sit down, I’ll make you some food.”
Ryan sighed, but obliged. He always indulged Ophelia, she was so kind to him.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia was cooking some steak, searing it just the way Ryan liked. She didn’t have to ask at this point, he came down from the city at least twice a month, the least she could do was cook his favorite food.
It wasn’t like he didn’t buy his favorites for her to cook because he wanted a slave, he loved her cooking.
She’d had to learn to make her own food when she was little. Her parents were rarely home, always out at couples’ counseling or looking for lawyers.
“Ophelia, I just have to know how you always make such amazing food!”
“Oh, just years of practice! Trust me, if I had a secret recipe, you’d know!”
Ryan laughed, then rose to help her set the table.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
They ate dinner and chatted for an hour or two, catching up on the last few weeks they’d spent apart.
“See you soon, Ryan! Safe travels!”
Ryan waved at Ophelia before walking away. She watched his silhouette dim in the dark forest. She didn’t leave the window until she heard his car start.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia entered her bedroom, grabbing her pajamas—an off-the-shoulder t-shirt with some celebrity’s face on it and some shorts. She carefully walked to the bathroom, trying to keep herself from waking her dog, Forrest.
He’d seemed almost sick recently, though he had perked up a bit when Ryan had arrived.
Ophelia took a shower, got dressed and stared at herself in the mirror.
She poked and prodded at her face. It was pale, the kind of pale many women had once dreamed of being, but her eyes were sunken and her cheekbones were practically jutting from her skin. She was unhealthily thin, just because she’d often forget to eat or wouldn’t have any food.
And when she was but a child, she’d often have to go days without food because her parents were too busy arguing or starving her because she was ‘a problem child.’ She’d just been trying to survive, never taking more than necessary, and now she had trouble stomaching much food.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan was watching the highway, but was thinking of Ophelia. She’d gained a small bit of weight. It wasn’t much, but he’d noticed her arms hadn’t been as thin, there was a bit of padding on her hands when he’d brushed them.
He was determined to keep visiting her more often, so that she would hopefully eat more and at least look healthier.
He couldn’t have his childhood friend starve to death.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
The next morning, Ophelia rose. She gracefully exited her home after getting dressed and eating a piece of toast for breakfast. She’d eaten something for once.
The bouquet of black tulips was in her hand. She adjusted the lace and shifted a few flowers around, ensuring they were perfect. Once satisfied, the slight sound of her footsteps on the dewy grass could be heard in the forest.
She stalked her way to the graveyard, entering quietly. The old iron gate creaked as she pushed it open, and she flinched at the noise.
No one but the graves greeted her; they stood in the same places they always did, but bouquets wrapped in the same lace she always used lay in front of each one.
She crept to Margaret’s tombstone, grasping the old, drying bouquet and lifting it from the ground. She kneeled and set the fresh bouquet down, whispering something meant for just her and the silence.
“Alright, I should go finish that sketch before the end of the day… then I’ll be able to work on something for fun tomorrow.”
Ophelia strode out of the graveyard, waving to the tombstones, taking the swaying of the trees as a response. Her footprints left a trail in the grass, leading back to her home.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan was worried. He hadn’t heard anything from Ophelia all day. She always sent updates after visiting the graveyard. How did he know she had just been there? Well, he’d seen the missing tulips from her garden in a vase, and a receipt for lace on the counter.
Just as he was ready to assume the worst, his phone lit up, the caller ID reading Ophelia Thorne.
He smiled and hit accept.
“Hey, Ophelia! I was waiting for your call.”
“Hello, Ryan. I’m sorry, I completely forgot about it, I was focused on this commission and it slipped my mind.”
“No worries, I’m just glad you’re doing well. What’re you drawing now, some masterpiece?”
Ophelia chuckled, the rare sound like a melody to Ryan’s ears.
“No, just a sketch of Marilyn Monroe in charcoal. I have this one customer that seems to like pop art, they order a new piece every few months.”
“You’ll have to send a pic! I’d love to see your next part of the Thorne Collection.”
“Ryan, I already told you! I don’t call it that, it’s just my portfolio.”
The pair chatted for a few minutes, then Ryan’s boss asked him why he wasn’t working. Ryan hung up, but was happy to chat with his closest friend.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia walked to her bookshelf, grabbing a sketchbook that was hidden behind a portrait. It was her favorite sketchbook, and the one she always doodled in when she missed Ryan.
She flipped through the pages—all of them Ryan.
Ryan laughing, Ryan smiling, Ryan studying.
She felt her heart beat faster, and her face warmed. She’d loved him ever since he’d comforted her in the sixth grade after her parents had been so abusive she’d been left with a broken arm.
She’d vowed to herself that the only person she’d ever love was him.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia decided that once her rose bushes bloomed, she’d confess her devotion to Ryan. Surely he’d accept.
It was terrifying, she had to wait until the end of spring for the rosebuds to reveal their hypnotizing colors.
She spent hours deciding which of her prized roses she’d give him. The roses that a teacher at school had gifted her when it was just a sprout. That sprout had grown into one beautiful plant, it had spread its domain to surround the rest of her garden.
She carefully cut the most beautiful of the flowers, ensuring they would be top-notch. There was no way she’d risk any little detail that Ryan could notice and disapprove.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
The bouquet was arranged, secured with her favorite lace, which was carefully tied into an intricate and elegant bow.
She displayed the bouquet on her kitchen table, then began cooking her specialty dish, margherita pizza. Learning this recipe was one of the few happy memories she had from her childhood that involved her mother.
Ophelia gracefully made the dough, evenly distributing every topping to ensure it would taste perfect in every bite.
The pizza was finished, and she went to go put on clothing that didn’t have flour on it.
She wore a flowing white blouse beneath a black skirt, a slight deviation from her normal preferences, but she remembered that Ryan had commented on the two pieces, saying they complimented each other perfectly.
She’d invited Ryan over for once, rather than just waiting for him to make a chance visit.
Ophelia sat her table, flipping through her sketchbook. The sketches of Ryan filled her with confidence, she would ask Ryan out tonight! Even if he rejected her, it was very likely he’d wish to remain friends.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
There was a knock at the door, and Ophelia rushed to answer it. She greeted Ryan and welcomed him in, but he’d brought someone with him.
A woman.
His girlfriend.
Ophelia felt her heart shatter. She wanted to collapse right then and there, but she pulled herself together.
This could just be a gathering for friends! She didn’t mind. She could allow herself to mourn the future she’d envisioned later, right now was time for damage control.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
“So, Beatrice, how’d you meet Ryan?”
“Ah, we met in college, and immediately became best friends! I’d say he’s never been happier than when I asked him out.”
Ophelia had to get up and refill her water in order to hide her eye twitching. She felt as if Beatrice had just ruined her entire life.
“That’s very nice, I’m so happy for you.”
Beatrice was about to thank Ophelia when Ryan walked out of the bathroom.
“Ah, Beatrice, this is Ophelia. We’ve been friends since kindergarten. Ophelia, this is Beatrice, my girlfriend.”
“Nice to meet ya’, Ophelia!”
“Likewise, Beatrice. If you’d excuse me, I need to set the table for three, I didn’t know you were coming.”
Ophelia walked off, trying to keep herself from crying. How could this happen?
“Ah, I’ll help! Can’t be someone’s guest an’ not help ‘em out!”
Ophelia turned and smiled, trying to keep herself from strangling Beatrice.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
The dinner was interesting to say the least.
Beatrice had taken the bouquet, thanking Ophelia for the ‘gift’. Ophelia wondered if Beatrice even remembered this had been a surprise to her.
Ryan had gone on and on about how Ophelia was his best friend, but there seemed to be a hint of pity in his voice that wasn’t normally apparent.
Ophelia had wished the couple a good night, cleaned the kitchen, then sobbed in her room.
“I-I can’t believe… he just thought we were friends!”
Her sobbing was loud enough that even Forrest was concerned, and he rarely moved anymore. His motivation seemed to disappear with Ophelia’s heartbreak arriving.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Years later, Ophelia walked through her garden.
She plucked flowers that Forrest loved, fashioning them into a bouquet, then running inside her cottage to search for her precious lace.
She’d started using a different lace after she met Beatrice, one less expensive.
Ryan stopped visiting soon after that fateful dinner. Ophelia heard that he’d married Beatrice and that they’d already had a set of twins.
Ophelia was happy, if you considered her burning hatred for herself that. She had thrown out all of her mirrors. The portraits and sketches she had from when she was learning to draw had been burnt. Her hair was past her ankles, trailing behind her as if she was some depressed woman from a fairy tale.
She was not some ancient, widowed prophetess. She was an eternally lonely, frail and hateful woman.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia exited her home, padding into the forest. She followed that same, old, familiar path to the graveyard, but stopped short of it. She turned, looking at the small stone adjacent to the fence.
She dropped to her knees, hair pooling around her, her skirt soaking the morning dew. The bouquet was placed next to the stone, and she wiped a tear from her eye.
“Greetings, old friend. I hope you’re doing well, wherever you are. Just know that I’ll come see you every chance I get, for eternity. Maybe that’s something that won’t be stripped from me.”
She pushed herself up, placing her hand on top of the stone. She caressed it, the weathered rock crumbling gently under her fingers.
“Farewell, Forrest. I’ll see you again.”
Her back turned to the stone, the sound of footsteps echoing down the path. Her skirt and hair dragged on the ground, collecting dust.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan was worried.
Ophelia had disappeared soon after she’d met his now wife, Beatrice.
“Honey, could you watch the kids? I need to see my friends, it’s been months.”
Ryan smiled and nodded, rubbing Beatrice’s waist.
“Of course. I’m going to check on Ophelia soon, maybe sometime next week, is that alright with you?”
“Mhm, sure, whatever. Please, I’m begging you, I need one night to feel young again.”
Ryan watched Beatrice walk away.
He wasn’t even sure if he loved her anymore. She’d lied so much.
She’d cheated, she’d faked that charming accent he’d adored, he wasn’t even sure if his children were truly his.
He wished for an escape. But family comes first.
Was a happy wife really the cause of a happy life? He felt that a happy wife meant too many arguments where he’d have to be verbally attacked, then have to comfort his ‘guilty’ wife. The cycle continued to repeat every few days.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan searched for his keys. He swore he’d just seen them, but he’d been misplacing items more often.
“Love, have you seen my keys?”
“Ah, I think they were in the bedroom. Why, where are you going?”
“Ophelia’s, I’m seriously worried. She hasn’t even accepted commissions, and I know she’d never do that.”
“You’re always rambling about her. What, are you in love with her or something?”
Ryan paused, a look of disgust—faked, because he wasn’t sure what he loved anymore—grew on his face.
“No, darling. I’ve known her since we were kids, she’s like my sister. I’m just scared for her, she’s been distant.”
Beatrice yelled about his ‘affair with that creep’, but he was focused on making sure he had everything.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
The drive to Ophelia’s was long.
He hadn’t left for another few hours after Beatrice yelled, he’d had to comfort her.
The sun was setting now, and his worry could only grow.
He finally arrived at the familiar spot, parking in front of the path through the forest.
Ryan walked down the overgrown path. He thought it was strange for the flowers around it to be wilting, Ophelia always cared for all of the nearby plants, not just the ones in her garden.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
He knocked on the cottage’s door.
No response except the chirping of crickets
Ryan eventually had to kick the door down—after a few failed attempts—but no one was home.
Spiders scattered across the floor, abandoning their half-woven webs in the search for safety.
He walked through the whole house, searching for Ophelia, or even Forrest.
No sign of either of them.
He walked into the kitchen, pausing when he saw sketches of disturbing sights on the table.
Ryan sorted through the papers, only seeing scribbles of locked rooms, someone crouched in a corner, a fallen angel. Silhouettes of something he didn’t even want to describe.
He found a note with all of the papers. It seemed to have been torn from a journal.
“She went to the graveyard?”
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
He rushed to the graveyard, calling Ophelia’s name.
No response. Even the bugs of the night had been silenced.
Ryan found a trail of something he wished he’d never seen.
Hair, fabric and something brown. It looked like something had been dragged or dropped.
He kept running, following the trail.
The shape of a human was lain across the grass, something clutched in its hand.
“OPHELIA!”
He rushed to her side, but she was already gone.
Her torso was bloated.
Her beautiful hands were gone. Her ethereal face was torn off.
Ryan swallowed, trying to clear his throat.
“…what happened to you?”
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ryan sat in the police station, describing what the body had looked like.
“Sir, you’re saying that you happened to notice your friend was distant, so you broke into their home in search of them?”
“No, I waited for a few minutes, then tried to open the door. It was unlocked but it was swollen, so it wouldn’t budge. I never would break in!”
“You just described breaking and entering, but we’ll have to discuss that later. Now, you say there was a trail of flesh leading to the corpse?”
The questions seemed targeting, but Ryan pushed through, answering them all.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Ophelia’s death was ruled an animal attack.
Ryan couldn’t bear to read the article to find out what animal could’ve done that.
He just wished he’d chosen her instead. He’d only brought Beatrice because he hadn’t realized his feelings for Ophelia as more than friends.
His heart ached for her.
He’d live out the rest of his life regretting his idiocy.
All alone—Beatrice told him the kids weren’t his, she’d left.
He’d live alone, nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.
꧁ ༺ ༻ ꧂
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and any support you can give is greatly appreciated!
Please don’t: copy my work or claim it as your own, feed to AI, or repost on other platforms without permission.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ This is my first fic, so sorry if it’s strange or has any errors! I’m on a phone, so it may be formatted differently. This is about some of my OCs, Dianara & Aerion, two Elves in the Kingdom of Eldoria. ⊹
⊹ ࣪ ˖ Trigger & Content Warnings: Abuse, Arranged Marriage, Mentions of Death, Body Image Issues, Mental Illnesses & Conditions {I don’t try to paint the illness as the issue, please forgive me if it seems like I’m making it the villain!} ⊹
⊹ ࣪ ˖ This is the story of Dianara, a noblewoman who was engaged to a man that was exiled from society by his own mother, and Aerion, said man who has some serious issues. Their first meeting to eventual love story, all of it is recorded here.⊹
Dianara glared at her father.
“What do you mean you’ve already decided who I’ll be married to? I thought you said I’d get to at least meet him first!”
“Dianara, it was a once in a lifetime offer. We can’t just give you full freedom, you at least got to know that you were betrothed before you were at the altar!”
She huffed and stomped off. Tears streaked down her cheeks, but she didn’t bother wiping them away.
Being a noble had almost guaranteed she’d be roped into some marriage for her parents’ advantage, but she had expected them to at least let her choose who she’d marry out of the other nobles.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion was staring out of the window of his study. He adjusted his mask, knowing his mother would kill him if anyone saw his ‘monstrous’ self. He flinched when he heard the door open, then straightened when he saw his mother.
“Aerion. We’ve found a candidate that didn’t seem absolutely disappointing. You’re to marry her, okay?”
Aerion just nodded. If he said anything, his mother would take it the wrong way and lock him away again. He watched his mother leave the room and he immediately slumped into his chair.
“Really, a wife? I can’t imagine how anyone could even bear my presence.”
She must’ve been desperate for a husband if she chose me of all people.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“My Lady, we’re to meet your fiancé today! We need to get you ready if we want to impress him!”
Dianara sighed, rising from her bed to do as the maid ‘suggested’, though she was probably just regurgitating whatever her father had told her.
“Let’s get this over with.” Dianara muttered, pulling a robe on over her nightgown.
The maid helped Dianara wash and detangle her golden curls, ensuring they were silky smooth before drying them.
“My Lady, which dress do you think would be best suited for the Palace?”
“The palace? I thought I was meeting my fiancé.”
“You are, my Lady! …Did your father not tell you? You’re betrothed to the Prince.”
Dianara’s jaw dropped. She then started laughing hysterically.
“Me? Marry the Prince? That’s hilarious!”
The maid kept a straight face.
“My Lady, it isn’t a joke.”
“Wait, I thought my marriage was supposed to improve my family’s reputation, not make us look insane! Everyone knows the Prince lost his mind at birth. That’s why he wears that strange mask, he’s a monster!”
The maid wiped a tear from the corner of an eye.
“My Lady, I wish you the best. Your fiancé will hopefully have mercy on you.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara stepped out of the carriage. She wore a flowing blue dress that fit perfectly over her corset. A knight approached her and guided her through the palace, chatting with her along the way.
“My Lady, are you sure you’re okay with marrying our Prince? He’s known to be a bit.. unstable.
“Well, it wasn’t my choice, since that one idiotic law he passed stating that all women of courting age have to have family members choose their partner. I’d have rather found some librarian or someone calm, I don’t want to be Queen!”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion sat on a bench in the garden. He could see the window of his study from where he was sitting. His mother was staring at him, motioning to do something, but he couldn’t see her well.
He flinched slightly when he heard the knight announce Dianara’s entrance. He stood and bowed, dismissing the knight and greeting Dianara.
“A pleasure to meet you, my Lady.”
“… It’s so great to meet you, Your Highness.”
Aerion was a bit perplexed, he had assumed that she was desperate for a husband; had she changed her mind? Was he destined to be alone forever? Was his mother right, was he really that worthless?
“Uh, Your Highness? Are you okay?”
Aerion shook his head to clear his mind.
“Er, yes, my apologies. I’m Prince Aerion of Eldoria, as I’m sure you know. And you are..?”
“Dianara. Dianara of the Silvercrests. I apologize for my previous remarks, I wasn’t aware of our engagement until very recently.”
“Oh, there is no reason to worry, but why weren’t you aware? I’d assume you chose a suitor, as the laws state?”
Dianara paused, staring at Aerion.
“You do know you approved a law stating that women are no longer allowed to choose their partner, right?”
Aerion blinked. He’d never approve a law like that, even if he was in a haze from an episode.
“No… but my mother may have while I was under treatment.”
Dianara nodded, crossing her arms. Aerion couldn’t help but study her features, though his mask kept Dianara from studying his.
“Aerion- My apologies, Your Highness, why do you wear that mask?”
Aerion opened his mouth to answer, but his mother ran into the courtyard.
“Aerion! Your father’s condition has deteriorated even more, he wants to see you immediately!”
Dianara jumped at the sudden interruption, staring at the Queen.
“Oh, I’ll go. I wouldn’t want to keep His Majesty from seeing his son.”
Aerion wanted to grab Dianara and run. He knew this lie, his mother told it constantly. His father had died years ago, and the Queen kept it secret from everyone but Aerion and the Royal Doctor.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara laid in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling.
“I wonder why he wears that mask… and why everyone says he’s a monster. He seemed perfectly fine to me.”
She rolled over, her nightgown wrinkling underneath her. Her hair tangled slightly, so she sat up and grabbed a ribbon, pulling it into a messy bun before it tangled even more.
Dianara stood and paced around her room. Thoughts of Aerion filled her mind, but that was surely just anxiety, plus, her heart was racing—she must’ve been anxious, nothing more.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Across the kingdom, Aerion sat in his room. He peeled his mask off, letting the cool spring air reach his face. He got up and opened the window more, then pulled the curtains shut so no one could see his bare face.
He walked over to his nightstand, grabbing a hand mirror some servant had given him as a reward for surviving another one of his mother’s episodes. The Queen had some disease similar to him, since she had bouts of anger and of sadness. He had episodes so often that the servants had named them. Extreme happiness was Aether, depression was Umbra.
He gazed at the mirror, poking and prodding at his face. His blue eyes stared back at him, though he hated how hazy they looked. After Dianara had left, Umbra had switched for a bit; he always was tired and confused when he switched personalities.
His short, blond hair was slightly ruffled from where he’d raked his hands through it after returning to his ‘normal’ personality. He couldn’t stand that it was short. His mother forced him to cut it, although he had always wanted to grow it out, so that he could hide his disgraceful, hideous face.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
In the morning, Dianara rose early to flip through old newspapers. She found one that mentioned Aerion’s first episode, when he was just six years old. He’d apparently charmed all of the noblewomen with his enthusiasm, but later been found sitting on a balcony, crying his eyes out. He’d claimed that he was just tired, but moments later he seemed confused.
He couldn’t remember where he was, and he had switched back to his normal withdrawn and calm self in seconds.
“My Lady, are you awake?”
Dianara jumped up and rushed to put all of the old newspapers back before calling out to the maid.
“Yes, I am! One moment, I just need to find my robe…”
The maid hummed and waited outside the door, coming in once Dianara said she was decent.
“My Lady, a message has come from the Prince! The herald said it was urgent, so he must’ve loved meeting you! Surely you’ll become the Queen, right?”
Dianara sighed and grabbed the letter from the maid’s hand. She broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. She skimmed it, then paused. She read it again.
“What, what does it say?”
Dianara looked at the maid, rolling her eyes.
“It says that while he was ‘impressed with my kindness’, he decided to seek out another woman.”
The maid frowned and grabbed the letter, reading it over.
“Aw, I was so happy for you, my Lady! My apologies, I thought it was good news.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion was sitting on his bedroom floor, nursing the bruise that had been left on his face by his mother.
She’d said that Dianara seemed too polite, too caring. That Dianara was too fierce and that she would have told all of Eldoria about the lies surrounding the Royal Family.
“Mother, I apologize, but is it not a good thing that she is fierce. If a fierce woman became the Queen, would she not be determined to keep the secrets? Surely she wouldn’t talk about father’s passing and our diseases!”
A crack rang through the air. Aerion’s bruise stung even more. He let out a small whine and felt that familiar sensation that happened before a switch.
His mind ran blank before he slouched forward, tears already flowing.
“AERION! What did I say about letting Umbra out?”
Aerion sighed and closed his eyes.
“That I am not allowed to show the others. I apologize mother, but do you not find your efforts futile? It would be far easier to just let me waste away and claim that I succumbed to the disease.”
The Queen’s face darkened, and she glared at Aerion.
“Aerion, shut your mouth. Get up and switch back to the correct personality, then don your mask and go on with the day.”
“Will I be able to visit Dianara?”
Aerion’s voice lightened as he said her name, a light flush rising to his face.
“No. She said she doesn’t want to see you. Ever again.”
Aerion was about to ask why, but the Queen stormed out.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Hours later, it was the dead of night. Aerion stared out the window.
He hadn’t listened to his mother, he’d kept his mask off. He hadn’t even drawn the curtains shut—a rebellion in his own way.
“Should mother learn that I left the palace, she’d have me killed. But I need to know why Dianara left.”
Aerion donned an old cloak a servant had gifted him before, pulling the hood over his head. It covered most of his face, which was bare. He slipped out of his room, quietly sneaking down the halls of the palace.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara was asleep when she heard a knock at her window.
“…Mmph, who is it?”
She rubbed her eyes and sat up, nearly screaming when she saw a silhouette outside. She rushed to the window, demanding the person state their business.
They just tapped on the glass.
She decided to open the window, anything would be better than being stuck in this house of all places.
“My apologies, my Lady. I heard of your disagreement with the Prince and wanted to know what the issue was.”
Dianara blinked, staring at the stranger.
“Er, I’m sorry but the Prince wrote me a letter stating that he was no longer interested in me. There was never a disagreement.”
The stranger tilted their head slightly, a worried expression on what was visible of their face.
“My Lady, I do happen to be the Prince’s messenger, and he never gave me a letter addressed to you. Are you certain that this letter was truly from him?”
Dianara opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. She turned to grab the letter from where she’d tossed it, handing it to the stranger for them to read.
They did so, then glanced up.
“My Lady, this isn’t the Prince’s handwriting. I don’t think he is the one who sent this.”
Dianara’s heart raced slightly. The thought that Aerion was still interested strangely excited her.
“Oh, my apologies. Would you please tell the Prince that I’m very interested in our courtship?”
The stranger nodded, though Dianara saw a faint blush on their cheeks.
“I’ll ensure he receives the message by morning. Please, forget this conversation ever happened, I’d like to keep my job.”
Dianara nodded. She realized she was just standing in her nightgown, which was built more for comfort than modesty. She threw her robe on, quickly adjusting it to cover her.
She turned, but the stranger was gone. In their wake was a letter. She grabbed it and read the message.
“My dearest Dianara… Aw, that’s sweet.”
She tried to ignore the flush rising on her face.
“Hm, Aerion wants me to ignore all of the official letters sent? I suppose I can do that, but this better not be some cruel joke.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion rushed to return to his room. He removed the cloak and picked up the mirror.
“I wonder who told Dianara that I wasn’t interested?”
He sighed, rubbing his temples and shutting his eyes tight.
“I can’t believe this. I’m a grown man—the Prince, even—and I’m still fighting with my mother.”
He set the mirror down, then turned to his bed. He slid into the silk sheets, trying to make himself comfortable.
He couldn’t.
The image of Dianara, in the moonlight with beautifully ruffled hair and a tired expression, remained in his mind.
He tossed and turned, eventually opting to pull a pillow to his chest and gently squeeze it. It was a terrible substitution for another Elf, but it was the best he could manage.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara studied her figure in the mirror.
She wondered why she, of all people, was Aerion’s choice in partner. Sure, her facial features were symmetrical and perfectly balanced, but her figure was quite thin, and her wider hips never managed to fit flatteringly in a dress.
Her curls, while beautiful when styled, always lost volume halfway through the day. She’d usually look like a wet dog by the time she went to sleep.
“My Lady, would you like to go into town and do some shopping?”
“Oh, sure! Can we visit the bookshop? I’d like to find some new novels to read.”
The maid said something about how it was Dianara’s choice of where they went, but Dianara was barely listening.
She was planning how to sneak off and into the palace, or at least somewhere she could meet the messenger.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“My Lady, isn’t it such a beautiful day? The sun is shining brightly and the weather is just delightful!”
Dianara hummed in agreement. She was looking around the bookshop, trying to figure out a way to escape without her maid noticing.
She saw a book she knew the maid had been wanting to read. This was her chance.
“Oh, isn’t that the book you’ve been mentioning?”
“Hm? Ah, it seems it is! I’ll have to return after my shift ends to purchase it.”
“Why don’t you buy it now? I don’t mind waiting.”
“Ah, my Lady, I couldn’t bear to make you spend your money on me!”
“You could just read it here. I saw a novel on the first story that I wanted to read. I assure you, I’ll be fine for a few hours.”
The maid nodded, looking at the bookshop with greed in her eyes. She walked over and grabbed it off of the shelf, finding a comfortable chair to sit in.
Dianara silently cheered. She just had to go to the palace now.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion sat in his room.
He was debating whether he should look for Dianara or if he should try to clear his mind before he triggered a switch.
“Perhaps I should go see her… she’s probably still not sure whether last night was real or not.”
He gathered a few things—his satchel, which had some money in it, his mask in case he had to reveal his identity, and a hastily written letter if he needed to prove that he was the ‘messenger’. He carefully stepped out of his room, looking for his mother. He couldn’t see her, so he drew the hood of his cloak over his face and set off.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
“Lady Dianara?”
Dianara turned around, scanning for whoever had called to her.
She saw the messenger.
“Ah, the messenger! Do you have a new letter for me, or is this some meeting I wasn’t aware of?”
“No, my Lady, it’s not a meeting. And my name is Camlo, you may call me so if you’d like.”
“Alright, Camlo. Do you have a letter from Aerion?”
He nodded and handed her the letter.
She read it and bid Camlo farewell, then did as the instructions had said.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion didn’t rush to return to the palace. If he had to reveal he was Camlo and himself, he wouldn’t mind. Surely Dianara would understand.
He reached his room, looking around to ensure the Queen wasn’t waiting to ambush him, then entered and removed his cloak, hiding it and the satchel away. He grabbed his mask and put it on, looking at his mirror to ensure it wasn’t crooked.
The mask was black and white, split directly in half. The half on his left was white with half a smile painted onto it, an eye painted above it—representing Aether. The half on his right was black, with half a frown painted on. There was an eye painted above it, a single tear painted rolling down—representing Umbra.
He adjusted the neckline of his shirt, it was laced just below his collarbones, half of it white and half black, opposite of his mask.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara snuck into the palace grounds. She was glad she’d run into Camlo, how else would she have known exactly where to go to avoid the guards?
She snuck through the hedges, around the back, reaching where she’d met Aerion that fateful day. She looked up and saw him waving from a window.
He motioned for her to enter the palace, and she could see him leaving his room.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
They met in the halls. Aerion greeted Dianara politely and she’d curtsied before telling him that Camlo had delivered both letters.
“I’m glad he was able to find you, I wasn’t sure where you’d be. He mentioned you’d had many books in your room, so I’d hoped you’d be at a bookshop or somewhere near one.”
“Ah, I do apologize if he came back a bit shocked when he delivered that letter in the night. I had completely forgotten to put on something over my nightgown.”
“Hm? He never told me of that… I’ll have to pay him for his silence later. However, I do believe we have some time to talk, if you’d like.”
Dianara smiled and nodded, following Aerion through the halls to his room.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Aerion opened the door to his room, holding it for Dianara, who thanked him.
“Well, Aerion, I would’ve thought you’d have more things in your room with you being the prince.”
“Ah, I’m afraid I have a bad memory, so I try to keep as little as possible so it’s harder to lose things.”
Aerion wasn’t exactly lying, but that wasn’t the full reason he had nearly nothing of his own. The Queen would often punish him by either breaking his things or stealing them and selling them off. She’d then blame him, saying he’d told her to while he was having an episode.
“So, Aerion. Care to explain the mask? I know there’s rumors of you being a monster and all, but you’ve been nothing other than kind whenever we speak.”
“Oh, my mask is more of a way to hide my confusion when I switch personalities. The Queen started forcing me to wear them when I had my first episode.”
“So you’ve been wearing them since you were a child? That seems… sad.”
“No worries, I don’t mind it. I’ve adjusted to finding it more comfortable than my own bare face. Plus, I will admit, I’m not very attractive, so it enhances my appearance.”
“I’m sure you’re handsome, you seem like the kind of person who would be.”
“And what are you trying to say, my dear?”
“That- Wait, did you just call me your dear?”
“My apologies, I get ahead of myself sometimes. If I made you uncomfortable, I truly am sorry.”
“No, it’s okay! It was sweet, honestly. Though, if you’d like to repay me for your terrible transgression… you could remove the mask?”
“Dianara, I’m not sure… I wouldn’t want you to no longer have interest in me.”
“I swear that I won’t. If we already made it through all of those misunderstandings, surely I won’t lose interest in something as simple as this.”
Aerion rubbed the back of his neck, seemingly unsure. He stopped for a second, then removed the mask.
Dianara gasped, turning away for a moment.
“Oh, Dianara. I’m so sorry, if I frightened you with my appearance, please forgive me. I’m sure that I’ll be able to continue wearing the mask should you still want to marry-“
“No, Aerion. It’s not that… you’re just… absolutely stunning.”
“…Pardon me?”
“Your face is so delicate and your features fit it perfectly! I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful before!”
Aerion blushed, not sure as to what he should do.
“Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that reaction.”
Dianara was fanning her face with her hands, trying to avoid eye contact until she could calm herself down.
“Aerion. I’m serious when I say it, I’d love to marry you! I just want to be engaged for a little while longer first. Plus, your mother seems to not approve of us and-“
Aerion pressed his mouth to hers. Dianara froze, sinking into the kiss. Their lips seemed to meld together, a warm, dizzy dance before they broke apart.
“Ah, Dianara, I’m so sorry! I’m not sure of what got into me…”
Aerion looked away, his face bright red.
Dianara smiled, then giggled and hugged him tightly.
“That’s alright Aerion! Though I thought nobles and royalty were supposed to save their first kiss for when they marry?”
“Yes, I suppose they do… Dianara, I swear that once you’re ready to marry, I’ll be right by your side the entire time!”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The couple spoke for hours, eventually deciding to team up with the doctor to reveal the King’s death. If the public knew the King was dead, they’d have to coronate a new one—the law was there had to be a new King crowned once the former had died, even if the King’s partner was still alive—meaning Aerion would become King and Dianara and he could marry much easier.
Aerion went to visit the Royal Doctor, faking an illness so that his mother wouldn’t approach him.
“So, Your Highness, are you sure you’re okay? Your mother insisted you seemed sick.”
“I assure you, I am. I need to ask a large favor of you.”
“Whatever you need, Your Highness.”
“We need to reveal my father’s death.”
“…Whatever for? Surely you don’t have some ulterior motive, like wanting to punish your mother?”
“While she has caused great pain, I would not hurt her, not on my own at least. I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love, and Mother would never allow me to marry this girl. I need to have power to be able to keep Mother from stopping us.”
“Oh, Aerion! That’s amazing, I’m so happy for you!”
Aerion smiled behind his mask, though he tried to keep his demeanor calm.
“Many thanks, though we do need to start working on this plan as soon as possible, in order to keep Mother from becoming suspicious.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Weeks passed, Aerion and the doctor planning the reveal and gathering all of their evidence.
While Aerion was fighting to survive in the society his mother had turned against him, Dianara was fighting a different battle: trying to keep her father from setting her up with nobles while still visiting Aerion.
“As I said, that man just doesn’t seem right! How am I supposed to marry someone if he doesn’t even bother to learn my name?”
“Well, daughter, I did have someone interested in you before you messed it up! Think of it, I could’ve been the father of the Queen of Eldoria! I could’ve been rich and powerful!”
“You already are! Why should I be passed around to every eligible Elf in the entire kingdom? You have plenty enough, surely you don’t need even more!”
Dianara’s father’s face grew dim, his brows drawing together as he raised his hand.
Just as Dianara was about to spit an insult at him, his hand struck her across the face, hard and swiftly.
“Did you just…?”
Dianara whimpered, cradling her face, tears forming at the corner of her eyes.
Her father looked horrified, staring at his hand as if it had hurt his daughter on its own.
“D-Dianara… I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking..”
Dianara took a deep breath, willing herself to become composed. She glared at her father before sprinting out of the house.
She kept running, ignoring the stinging pain in her face from where she’d been struck. She felt it already had started to swell.
She found herself in Aerion’s room, with little memory as to how she’d gotten there.
She sat on his bed, pulling her knees to her chest and burying her face in her dress. She sniffled, trying to stop the flood of emotions, but she couldn’t.
She sobbed into her clothing, reminiscing of when her father adored her and would’ve done anything to make sure she was safe. Now what, she just was some object? Something to be traded away for useless wealth?
“My dear, are you okay?”
Dianara raised her head, her eyes meeting the painted ones on Aerion’s mask.
“I.. I..”
More tears threatened to pour, and Aerion rushed over to sit with her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.
He whispered comforting words into her ear, swearing he’d always protect her.
“My love, feel free to stay here until the plan is carried out. We’re almost done, we just need to finish preparing our final piece of evidence.”
“Thanks Aerion, I’d really like that.”
She shoved her face into the side of his neck, her breath stirring a faint flush on his skin.
She reached up and removed his mask, pulling him down to place a delicate, broken kiss on his lips. He groaned against her lips, holding her tighter.
He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers.
“I swear that no one will ever lay a hand on you again, my love. You’ll become my wife and you’ll never wish for anything, ever again.”
Dianara smiled, leaning into him. Her eyes started to droop, and he helped her lay down before retrieving a warm towel to hold to the bruise that was still growing on her face.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
She woke in the morning to the sound of shouting in the streets.
She sat up, rubbing the back of her head, trying to ward off the waking haze. She rose and snuck to the window, seeing people yelling. She tried to tune out all of their shouting, focusing on a name. The Queen’s name.
Her heart started racing. Had Aerion gone through with the plan already? Were they going to get married?
“Dianara! It’s time.”
“It’s time for what?”
“Your announcement as the soon-to-be Queen of Eldoria.”
Her eyes widened.
“You really still want to marry me? I’m not the most attractive or intelligent of the women looking for partners, and I’m stubborn and too confident for my own good!”
“No, you aren’t—well, other than beautiful, I’ve never seen anyone like you. But you’re perfect, just the way you are. You compliment my doubt and anxiety exactly the way I need. I could never ask for a better match.”
Dianara wiped a tear from an eye, emotions overcoming her.
“Now, would my fiancée care to join me? I need to show our future subjects exactly what they’ll be dealing with.”
She couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the sly smirk forming on it.
“Well of course, my fiancé. I’d love to join you.”
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The crowd was still shouting at the Queen, who was trying to do damage control. She looked like she was ready to strangle someone.
They all paused when they heard the sound of horns being played.
The Royal Family’s Herald—the official one—shouted the news.
“Prince Aerion is coming to address the issues at hand, and to make an announcement! All rise in honor of the Crown Prince!”
Aerion and Dianara stepped out of the palace together, hand in hand.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Dianara had blacked out the entire time she and Aerion were out together. She just remembered the feeling of his hand over hers, his thumb tracing the outlines of her knuckles.
Aerion sat her down after they’d returned inside the palace and assured her they’d wait for her bruise to heal before their wedding and coronation.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Another few weeks passed.
Wedding plans were discussed almost constantly, and the coronation was to happen during the wedding.
Dianara had been given a room in the palace, and the maid from her house with her father became her lady-in-waiting. A few other women, mainly her childhood friends, became her lady’s maids.
“Dianara, what kind of dress should we get for you? Something revealing? Something extravagant?”
All of her friends discussed what they thought would be the perfect wedding dress.
“Girls! I know what I’d like for a dress.”
They all stopped talking, waiting for Dianara to describe some grand idea.
“I’d like it to look like my favorite dress, the one I wore when I first met Aerion.”
She sketched out a general idea: a flattering neckline, it had to hug her hips nicely, and any color would be fine. Flowing sleeves to conceal her hands and make her figure seem more elegant and refined.
“That sounds beautiful Dianara! We’ll go find the perfect tailor to make it for you!”
Dianara watched them leave, smiling to herself.
In just a few months, she’d gone from a noblewoman being forced to marry to the queen of an entire kingdom. How she got here, she’d never know.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
The wedding was beautiful.
Dianara’s dress had lived past her expectations, Aerion had nearly cried when he saw her.
He still wore the mask, it was a habit of his now and he couldn’t feel comfortable in public without it.
Their vows had both gone on so long the officiator had to cut them off.
The reception was perfect.
The entire kingdom was invited, and the majority of the citizens showed up.
“Aerion?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Whatever happened to Camlo?”
Aerion paused. In all the stress of the planning and having to figure out what to do with his mother—she was sent to a care center for people suffering from a similar condition she was—he’d completely forgotten to tell her.
“Er, that was me. I just wanted to make sure that you still loved me at the start, and it just kept going.”
Dianara sighed.
“Well, even if my husband is a bit too anxious, I wouldn’t trade him for anyone.”
She smiled, taking his face in one hand, pressing a kiss to the mask.
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
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