seen from South Korea
seen from Brazil
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Yemen
seen from Taiwan
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Brazil
seen from Yemen
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Italy
can yall tell that i watched alien stage bc my arts abt to get a lot more angsty 💀💀 anyway rumi got some demon health problem or smth ദ്ദി・-・)✧
ᘏᘏ thirsty bunn thursdays male reader x jo yuri (iz*one) ※ more of my works on fanprose. This piece is a nod to @octoberautumnbox.
If someone handed you a box with everything you’ve ever lost, what is the first thing you’d look for?
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You know the answer.
“Yuri.”
“Oppa—”
You freeze on the fourth step down; the box shifts in your arms.
“Are you really going to leave without saying anything?”
You turn, and she’s standing in the doorway, wearing the hoodie you were looking for that was supposed to be in the box—you did not know she still had it.
“Yuri.”
“Are you really going to leave without saying anything?” She repeats herself. Didn’t have to; but it is something—it is everything—it is the only thing she can muster.
“It’s easier this way.”
“For who?”
You can’t answer.
The box in your arms is not heavy, but the weight it carries goes beyond its physical manifestation. Cardboard, tape, and the five things that were yours: Photographs of her you took with the first Polaroid camera you bought together, letters she sent during the times she traveled for work, a t-shirt you’ve lent her when she got soaked in the rain on your sixth anniversary, concert tickets you’ve collected of the bands you both loved, and the ring you were supposed to propose with just before everything fell apart buried deep inside the rest.
Her eyes linger on the box.
“Please, come inside, let’s talk.”
“Yuri—”
“Please, Oppa. It’ll only take a minute.”
You place the box on the kitchen counter, and her warmth is three steps away. Neither of you moves, and everything that surrounds you smells like all the moments that you’ve spent with her—eight years living together in this apartment.
“At least show me what’s in it.”
“Baby—” You reconsider. “—Yuri, we don’t have to do this.”
“It’s just fair, show me.”
You take the flaps up and reveal the contents of your entire relationship.
“You told me to pack up.”
“I did.”
“Then we don’t have to do this.”
She approaches the counter, and her fingers touch the edge of the cardboard box. She lifts the photograph first, looks at it, then puts it down. She lifts the t-shirt, presses it to her chest, then folds it back. Lifts one of the letters, doesn’t open it, then sets it beside the shirt.
Then she lifts the ring box; her whole body freezes.
“Yuri—”
“When?”
“Yuri, put it back. It’s—”
“Oppa. When?”
“The night before you signed the contract.”
“You were going to propose?”
“Yes.”
“You were—” Tears start running down her face. “—going to propose, and you let me continue telling you I was moving to Tokyo for four years—” Her words stammer. “—a-and you did not say anything?”
“You had already signed and were about to leave in three days. You’ve dreamed about this role, and it was something you’ve worked hard for and waited two years for.”
“And you did not stop me.”
“I did not stop you.”
“You had this ring with you when I told you.”
You don’t answer.
The first year apart got complicated. Both your busy lives ran out of room for each other. Distance pushed you further apart, to the point where arguments were the only time you were still able to talk.
She sets the ring box on the counter between the photographs and the letters. Silence drowns the room.
“Oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“Ask me.”
“Yuri—”
“Ask me now, Oppa.”
“You still have three years left.”
“I don’t care, Oppa. Ask me.”
“You will hate me if I ask you now. What if you regret it?”
“I will hate you more if you continue walking down those stairs. I will regret it more for not letting you know my answer to the question you withheld from me.”
You reach for the box, open it, and pick up the ring.
“Yuri.”
“Yeah?”
“Will you—”
“Of course, Oppa. Of-fucking-course I will give up everything to be with you.”
She kisses you before you finish the sentence. Her forehead is pressed against yours; holds it there as you both gaze into each other’s eyes.
“Say the whole thing anyway.”
“Jo Yuri. Will you marry me?”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, and infinite-times-more—yes!” Her lips crash into yours, unfolding you the way you should have unfolded her a year ago.
You carry her small frame, her body fitting with yours—like two puzzle pieces meant to complete a whole picture. You carry her past the box on the counter, past the letters, and the photographs, and the ring; her lips do not leave your neck for a single step. You finally reach the bedroom you helped her paint a lifetime ago; the bedroom you slept in a hundred nights; the bedroom you have not seen in three months.
She pulls her top off, and she’s already naked underneath. Like clockwork your eyes unravel every inch of her body the way you’ve unwrapped every gift box you’ve exchanged every Christmas Eve with her; that small mark under her left breast that you’ve kissed a thousand times because it is one of the many doors to her pleasure; the softness at her stomach that she was embarrassed about in year one and confident in by year three; her collarbone that traces like the first line of a poem you have read too many times to forget.
“Oppa, come here.”
You do, and you let your lips do the pathfinding: you kiss her forehead, the first place your mouth ever went to comfort her—that night she came home from her first failed audition, her mascara running, still in the jacket she wore to the audition. You kiss her cheek, the one that receives the most love because you just can’t stop admiring it—it’s so fucking soft. Her plump lips, a drug you’ll gatekeep ‘til the ends of the earth; so addicting, you’ve had actual withdrawals craving them whenever she’s far; so hers you refuse to even consider any mouth that was not this one. The small mark under her left tit—your starting point. Every long night with her begins there; every one ends with your face returning to it. You put your tongue on it now, and she gasps like it is the first time, because it always is. Her belly that you’ve filled countless times with all her favorite dishes, and just under it, the space you’ve filled countless times with your seed. Then, finally, you kiss both of her hipbones because they are the corners of the space between them—the space where you’ve spent the best hours of your life.
“Oppa?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Did you ever stop—”
You already know what’s in her head. Thoughts that probably bothered her whenever messages went unanswered, or when a day would end, and you’d both notice each other not being a part of it.
“Not for one second.”
“Then why did you—”
You find your way south of her before she finishes her thought. Your lips linger on the inside of her thigh, your tongue grazes the outside of her cunt because you know that the sensation you provide her is something you’ve been selfish about for years. You put your face there, breathe it in, and she smells like her still.
She has been packed away for months, and you unpack her—slowly. Use your tongue to open every entrance that has been closed to you. She has been in a box; you take her out, layer-by-layer, like how you would open a present you did not want to damage. First, unravel her ribbons; you slide down her panties; then you open up the flaps, you spread her legs apart; then you enjoy the gift that’s presented to you.
Your mouth does the unspeakable to her folds, slowly picking them apart in search of her pearl. The sound she makes when your tongue finds the small, hard place at the top of her is the exact same sound she’s let out for years that you can’t get tired of.
“Oppa—please—please, Oppa—”
“I got you, baby.”
In mere seconds, she cums. A stream of pleasure bursts out of her, and she has to grab the sheets to keep herself in place. You hold her thighs open through it, and you do not stop until she is trembling around your tongue; and even then, you kiss her thigh once, twice, three times, before you look up at her.
“Oppa.”
“Yeah?”
“You could’ve just called.”
“I know…”
“You could have just said something—even an ‘I love you.’ Just anything.”
“I know.”
“I would’ve flown home and left everything the next day.”
You climb up her body, you match her state of undress, and then she wraps her legs around you.
“I know that now.”
“Then don’t ever do it again, okay?”
“I won’t.”
“Say it.”
“I won’t do it again.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You’d like to believe that the people meant for each other are always in the box you were afraid to open. That the hands meant to hold each other are the hands that lift the flaps first. That the eyes meant to see each other look inside without flinching. That the first thing you’d look for is always the first thing you find.
comment an idol you’d want featured on thirsty bunn thursdays and I’ll feature them in the next installment. thirsty bunn thursdays are now also on fanprose.
My Princess
Jo Yuri x Reader
Genre: Fantasy fluff and romcom | Length: 11.5k
Summary: You finally save Princess Jo Yuri from the feared dungeon, but when the king offers her hand in marriage, you refuse.
It's really not that serious lol
Once upon a time, in the kingdom of the WakeOne, there lived a princess of such beauty that songs were sung across the land in her honor, countless poems had her name etched in ink, and many suitors wanted to claim her hand. Her hair shone of a beautiful gold, her eyes sparkled brighter than the royal jewels, and her voice was said to calm even the wildest storm.
But envy, as it often does, crept into the heart of a neighboring queen. In a fit of jealousy, she summoned a dreadful orc from the dark corners of the earth and ordered him to seize the princess.
The monstrous creature obeyed, taking the maiden away and locking her in a dungeon deep underground, thirty layers beneath the surface, guarded by fearsome beasts and riddled with traps no ordinary man could hope to survive.
The king, stricken with grief, summoned his finest warriors and sent them to rescue his daughter. Yet no one returned.
A young knight heard the announcement. He was the apprentice of the great general. Without further ado he set to find the girl. Desperate, the king issued a royal proclamation: “To whomever can brave the dungeon and save my beloved daughter, I offer treasures beyond imagination and her hand in marriage.”
When they returned, the kingdom erupted in joy. Bells rang, doves flew, and flowers rained from the sky (probably thrown by bards). A grand feast was held in the hero’s honor, filled with music, dancing, jesters, and roasted boar the size of carriages.
At the end of the celebration, the king summoned the knight and the princess to the royal chamber.
“Brave adventurer,” the king declared, rising from his throne, “you have defeated the beast, conquered the dungeon, and rescued my dearest daughter. For this, I am eternally grateful.”
The knight nodded politely. “Sure.”
“As promised,” the king said with a proud smile, “you shall have her hand in marriage.”
A moment passed. The knight rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… nah, I’m good.”
Wait, what? Why would you say such a thing?
“What?” gasped the princess, blinking in disbelief.
“…What?” echoed the king, eyes wide with confusion.
“Yeah, I’m not looking to get married,” you continued.
“But why? You’d be a prince! You’d get a castle! You’d be the richest man in the kingdom!” the princess exclaimed, completely bewildered by your statement. She couldn’t understand why anyone in all the kingdom would come to such a decision.
“You ever tried maintaining a castle?” you replied in return.
“…No?”
“Yeah, didn’t think so. That’s because Daddy here pays for the roof repairs and moat cleaning. Pass,” you argued. “The cleaners, the maintenance, the horses…”
The royal advisor, who had been quietly sipping wine in the corner, choked a little at the mention of horses.
“But—but the wealth! The royal coffers!”
“I’m good on money. I already sold half the rare drops from the bottom floor of the dungeon. I’ve got my own brand now: Obscura. It’s niche, but it’s doing very well,” you said proudly.
Somewhere in the ballroom, a bard whispered, “I think I’ve seen that shop. Great cloaks.” Another guest shushed him.
“Thank you, sir. Remind me to give you a discount later,” you said.
“You risked your life to save us all,” the king said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Doesn’t that earn you a reward?”
“As I said,” you replied calmly, “I don’t need it. My shop is bringing me more than enough income.”
The king stared at you, baffled, as though trying to decipher a language he had never heard before.
“You’d refuse all this for some… boutique dungeon shop?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the grandeur around him: the throne, the gold, the royal court, the entire weight of the kingdom.
You met his gaze without flinching. “I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into that shop.”
“So what, you’re just going to keep killing monsters forever?” the princess said.
“With this sword? It’s too easy, I basically one-tapped that orc,” you said.
What the fuck does that even mean?
The king glanced at his captain of the guard, who just shrugged. He didn’t know either.
“But… we could just give you the money!” the princess bargained.
“Yeah, but that comes with a royal wedding, right?” you asked.
“Well… yes.”
“Then no thanks.”
“Is it me? Am I not beautiful enough?” the princess said in desperation.
“Oh no, you’re gorgeous. But so are the girls in the red-light district.”
Not a good move, dude.
Gasps echoed through the throne room. One noblewoman fainted. The court jester dropped his lute.
“How dare you compare me to those—those common whores?!”
“Hey, easy. Those ‘common whores’ pay taxes. The same taxes that keep your castle from crumbling into a moss-covered ruin.”
“You! You should be on your knees thanking the gods for my interest, not questioning it! I am Princess Yuri, the most sought-after bride in the land. Kings and nobles have begged for the privilege of having me as their wife!” The princess rushed right into your face, livid, she couldn’t contain herself and dropped all manners. "And yet, here I am, offering myself to you. You should feel incredibly lucky!”
“If you have so many suitors, you could satisfy one of them,” you replied. “Surely there must be a handsome one out there.”
The king slumped back in his throne, looking like he had aged ten years in ten seconds. The princess looked as though she might breathe fire. You just adjusted your sword belt and stared off toward the window.
“Anyway,” you resumed. “I’ve got orders to ship. Later.” You moved to walk out of the room, but not before stopping and handing a little card to the bard.
“10% discount on everything.”
The bard, caught completely off guard, fumbled the card and caught it against his chest. He looked around nervously, clutching his lute. “Thank you, my lord,” he whispered, trying not to be heard.
The king narrowed his eyes and let out a long, weary sigh. Normally, such blatant disrespect would have earned a man the gallows, a swift beheading, or at the very least a cold, dark cell. But this time… nothing.
The royal guard didn’t move an inch. And honestly? Who could blame them? They weren’t paid nearly enough to pick a fight with someone who’d just soloed a thirty-layer dungeon and walked out without so much as a scratch.
When you were nearly out of the palace, you heard a series of steps hurrying towards you. You stopped and turned around. It was the princess. The princess was running, as fast as her heavy gown would allow.
“What was that?!” she demanded, breathless.
“What, was I not clear?” you replied, barely turning.
She paused, frustration etched into every line of her face. “I understand what you said, but why were you so rude?”
“Sorry, my lady,” you answered, “but you were being too pushy. Sometimes, being blunt is the only way to get through to people.”
“You can’t just leave like that. You saved me. All knights aspire to marry a noble lady and become the owners of great lands.”
“You’re right,” you said and nodded. “I do want a great land.”
“Then marry me.”
“No,” you said simply, “your lands are almost barren. It’s a bad investment.”
She blinked, disbelief mixing with fury. “You’re unbelievable!”
“Why do you want to marry me so badly, anyway?” you asked, stepping to face her.
The princess drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. “I’ve been trapped in that dungeon for who knows how many years—”
“It was two weeks, actually,” you interrupted.
“Don’t interrupt me.” She cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “I’ve lived trapped in this castle just as much. From a young age, my mother forced me to walk with books balanced on my head, to keep my posture perfect at all times. I endured endless lessons in history, literature, music—”
“Yeah,” you countered, “and I had to kill a rabbit with my bare hands because my family didn’t eat for a week. So I guess we both endured a pretty tough life, huh?”
The princess faltered for a moment but pressed on. “What I’m trying to say is… every princess dreams of living a fairy tale. You’re my knight; you saved me. This is how the story is supposed to go!”
“Is it really?” you said.
Actually, no. This is not how the story is supposed to go.
“And you get to decide that?!” the princess snapped, her voice sharp with frustration.
You don’t. But I do.
“Please, my lady,” you said, softening just a bit, “I’ve already told you I don’t want to live in that castle. You said it yourself. The people there are just…” you lowered your voice, “a bit boring.”
“I’ll leave with you,” she said.
“I really don’t think you should,” you said firmly. “However, if you want to visit my shop, here’s where it is.”
You pulled out a roughly drawn map from your cloak pocket and handed it over. “It’s a bit far from your castle, but with all the carriages you’ve got, it shouldn’t be a problem. Just one thing: don’t even think about asking for discounts. The next time I see your debt collector man, I’m chopping his legs off.”
You straightened your clothes, took off your hat with a flourish, and gave a respectful bow. “Farewell, my lady.”
"Fine! Go back to your little shop, to your dusty loot and your lowborn whores!" she snapped, her voice rising with each word. "I didn’t want you anyway! If I’d known you were this heartless, I would’ve gladly stayed in that dungeon!"
You waved your hand and kept walking.
Your horse was waiting for you outside. You got up and rode away from the capital. The farther you rode, the less the world looked like it belonged to kings. Stone roads gave way to gravel, then to packed dirt, and eventually to nothing at all. You continued until you saw the outline of another town.
By the time you arrived at your home town, the sun had dipped low behind the hills. The town wasn’t much. Cobbled streets, leaning buildings, too many cats, and a lot of noise.
You turned down a narrow side street and just before the alley twisted into shadow, your shop came into view.
A sign above the door, painted by your own hand, swung gently in the evening breeze: “Obscura – Rare Goods, Monster Parts, and Slightly Cursed Trinkets.”
The lanterns inside were still glowing faintly. You pushed the door open and stepped in. The bell above jingled and the wooden floor cracked under your steps.
Inside, it smelled like ash, old leather, and faint magic. The shelves were cluttered with all manner of bizarre goods: wyvern teeth, cursed mirrors, enchanted cloth, potion flasks labeled in runes you barely remembered.
You walked behind the counter, unhooked your sword belt, and tossed it into the back room.
Three orders were waiting on the desk. One from a traveling bard requesting powdered shadowbeast fur. Another from a guild novice looking for a soul-bound dagger, probably to impress someone. The third… written in shaking handwriting and sealed with a black wax crest. You slid that one aside for later.
A knock came at the weathered wooden door.
“Closed,” you called out.
“It’s not even dark yet!” came the muffled protest from outside.
“Still closed,” you replied, not bothering to move.
“I got 1000 golds,” the voice said urgently.
“Open!”
A man stepped inside, his cloak caked in dirt and dust from the long road. His boots, cracked and scuffed, left faint prints on the creaky wooden floor. He dropped a heavy leather pouch onto the counter with a dull thud, the coins inside jingling softly. His eyes darted around the cramped shop.
“That a dragon tooth?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You grinned, fishing the jar from the shelf. Inside floated a pale, twisted fang, suspended in a thick amber liquid that shimmered faintly in the flickering candlelight. “Real deal,” you said proudly. “Almost lost my ear getting it. You want it?”
He nodded, eyes narrowing. “Name your price.”
You set the jar carefully on the counter. “Fifty gold.”
He snorted. “I’m not made of gold.”
You leaned forward, resting your arms on the counter, the wood rough beneath your calloused hands. “Neither am I. But that tooth’s worth every coin.”
He hesitated, then grumbled, shoving more coins your way. “Fine.”
The man rolled up his sleeve, revealing a deep, ragged claw wound that still oozed dark blood. “Wyvern got me.”
You reached under the counter and pulled out a sturdy leather satchel, worn but well-maintained. Unbuckling it, you revealed neatly organized salves, enchanted bandages shimmering with faint blue light, and jars of rare herbs harvested from dangerous places. “This’ll fix you up good as new. Price? One hundred and twenty-five gold coins.”
He laughed, a rough bark. “Three hundred?! You’re trying to make me broke.”
You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Hey, it’s also a whole kit. I’m not selling you just a single bandage. It’s going to last you a long time.”
You took out a small, dark glass bottle, its surface etched with faint runes that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. “I usually don’t let my customers bleed all over the floor,” you said. “I’ll let you try this one for free.”
The man eyed the bottle suspiciously but uncorked it, releasing a faint scent of herbs. He dabbed a drop on his claw wound. Within moments, the edges of the gash began to knit together, the dark blood retreating as the skin closed smoothly.
His eyes widened. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Told you.”
He huffed, but finally dropped two hundred fifty gold on the counter. “Ninety golds and one bottle of your strongest ale?”
You arched an eyebrow. “Make it one hundred, and the ale’s yours.”
He grunted in defeat, handing over the coins. “Done.”
“You got yourself a great deal. I have the best ale in town.” That was true.
His eyes drifted to the weapons rack: sleek swords, daggers tipped with enchanted steel, and axes carved from dragon bone. “Got anything that’ll take down a wyvern?”
You pulled a long sword wrapped in supple dragonhide from its place. The blade gleamed sharp, faint runes glowing along its length. “This beauty’s seen more battles than most knights, still sharp as the day I forged her.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Price?”
“Seven hundred gold.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Seven hundred? That better fly itself!”
You met his grin, a challenge sparking in your eyes. “Name me a better price then.”
He crossed his arms, smirking. “How low are you willing to go?”
You tapped your chin thoughtfully. “Six fifty.”
He shook his head firmly. “Six hundred, no more.”
You paused, then nodded slowly. “Come on, you already bought enough. Six hundred it is.” That was a robbery; it took you five seconds at maximum to get that sword.
The man immediately slapped six hundred gold coins on the counter. “Deal.”
You packed his order with care, slipping a few extra herbs into the bag for luck and the bottle of ale you promised. He bid you goodbye and left.
You stood back and watched the door close, “Another satisfied customer.”
Like you didn’t just rob that poor man.
You thought you were back to your relaxing stay at your shop; however, the next day, as you were busy tending the shop, a sudden commotion stirred outside. You heard people screaming—women mostly—a lot of running, horses, carriages.
Peeking through the window, you spotted a group of rough-looking men dragging a struggling figure through the street. Your eyes locked onto her bright gold hair.
The princess.
Without hesitation, you grabbed your sword from behind the counter and pushed open the door, slipping outside. The townsfolk parted like waves as you sprinted after the kidnappers, your boots pounding against the cobblestones.
The chase led you out of town, past fields fading into the thick edge of the haunted forest. The air grew heavy, thick with mist and the scent of damp earth. The trees loomed into you, their gnarled branches twisting into eerie curved shapes.
The dense forest finally revealed a dark cave, half hidden behind twisting vines and shadows. The kidnappers were gone now but you still heard the sound coming from the cave.
Two grotesque figures stood sentinel, their twisted forms part beast, part shadow. Their eyes glowed faintly in the gloom, and their snarls echoed softly against the stone walls.
One stepped forward and its voice lowly rumbled: “If you wish to enter, brave knight, you must answer our riddle. Fail, and your fate is sealed.”
You sighed. “Come on, what is this? Another one of those fairy tales?”
As a matter of fact, it is.
“Fuck me. Speak your riddle.”
The other growled: “I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have nobody, but I come alive with the wind. What am I?”
You studied them for a moment the quiet hum of the forest around you. “I don’t know,” you said
What do you mean you don’t know? It’s obvious.
“I don’t know, alright!”
Just think about it. You built a whole business, and you don’t know how to answer a riddle?
“Just give me the goddamn answer. They might be torturing Yuri at this point.”
It’s an echo.
“Ooooh, right. An echo,” you said.
The monsters hissed, exchanged a glance, then stepped aside with a grunt. “You may pass, but beware what waits beyond.”
The cave’s darkness swallowed you as you stepped forward, the faint glow of enchanted runes lighting your way. Suddenly, a booming voice echoed through the chamber:
“To pass, you must face the Trial of Wisdom. Answer true or face eternal darkness.”
“Come on. Another riddle?” you muttered under your breath.
Before you stood a massive stone pedestal, upon it a scroll sealed with crimson wax. You broke the seal and unfurled the parchment, revealing a puzzle written in ancient script.
The riddle read: “I’m always running, but I never walk. I have a bed, but I never sleep. I have a mouth, but I never talk. What am I?”
You furrowed your brow. “A road,” you said confidently.
A harsh laugh echoed off the walls. “Wrong! Now you must die!”
The chamber shook as shadows crept closer. You stumbled back. “Wait—what? I lost? Hey! I get another try, right?”
“Another trial? What a joke! Prepare to die!”
How did you get that one wrong? Yeah, he gets another try.
The voice hesitated, then, with a grudging tone: “Fine. Another try.”
You took a deep breath, focused, and reconsidered the riddle. “A river,” you said, this time with conviction.
Suddenly, the runes on the pedestal glowed brightly. The stone door before you rumbled open, revealing the path ahead.
As you stepped through the opened stone door, the cavern widened into a vast chamber, dimly lit by glowing crystals embedded in the walls. There, looming in the shadows, stood a monstrous figure: tall, grotesque, with eyes like burning embers and a mouth filled with jagged teeth.
The beast began to speak with terrible arrogance. “So, another foolish mortal dares enter my domain. Know this: none who challenge me leave alive. I am the guardian of this place, keeper of secrets and judge of all who trespass—”
Before it could finish its grandiose speech, you pulled a dagger from your belt and threw it right into the middle of his forehead. The blade struck true, embedding deep in the monster’s skull. The creature staggered, mouth agape, blood poured from the wound and he fell.
You wasted no time, stepping over the beast’s crumpled body and began rifling through its hoard: gold coins, gleaming enchanted trinkets, rare gemstones, and some ancient daggers. It was actually a pretty good loot.
Just as you pocketed a particularly rare amulet, a loud scream pierced your ears. It definitely didn’t come from a monster.
“Hey! You’re supposed to save me!” The familiar voice of the princess rang out.
You turned sharply, spotting her chained nearby. She was both pissed and relieved to see you.
“Right. Almost forgot,” you muttered, crouching down and breaking her chains. You grabbed her waist and threw her effortlessly onto your shoulder. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Her arms started flailing around as she grumbled, “Put me down this instant! I’m not some sack of potatoes!”
“Easy there, my lady,” you said. “Don’t waste your energies.”
She shot you a glare. “I should have stayed in the dungeon.”
“Sure, if you like mold and spiders,” you said..
“Do you even know how to carry a princess properly?” she huffed. “You’re all backward and rough.”
“Hey, I saved you from monsters and riddles, you’ll take what you get,” you replied. “Besides, this way you get the breeze.”
“Breeze? I’d rather get a proper horse ride.”
“I do have a horse, don’t worry princess.” You said as you reached the tree where your sturdy horse waited patiently. With a grunt, you lifted her off your shoulder and set her gently on the horse’s front, just in front of you.
The princess let out a satisfied sigh. “Now this is more like it. This is how a princess is supposed to ride: front and center, not squished on a saddle behind some sweaty knight.”
You laughed. “Don’t get used to it. Horses aren’t taxis.”
As you mounted behind her, you nudged the horse forward. “Hold tight, princess. The ride home’s just beginning.”
The horse started to ran back to your town. It was a bit far away from the forest. The kidnappers really took her far. Come to think of it, they must have been the two bodies that were lying in the corner. You didn’t bother checking though, it looked like they only had some copper on them.
Yuri seemed to be enjoying herself. You didn’t. Her hair was all over your face. She didn’t bother keeping it down, she was having her moment.
“So,” you began, “why exactly did you wander all the way to my shop if you were so keen to stay locked up in that castle? Did you try to kidnapped on purpose?”
She shot you a sharp look. “I was not trying to get kidnapped.”
“Uh-huh. Because the last time I checked, nobody kidnaps someone who’s just staying home.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wanted to see the world outside the palace walls, alright? And your shop was… intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “That hut in the bittle of nowhere?”
She crossed her arms. “Well, it beats sitting around in fancy gowns and listening to your father’s endless council meetings.”
“Are you still upset about that marriage thing?” you asked.
She turned her head just slightly, enough for you to see the annoyed twitch in her brow. “I don’t want to marry you.”
You blinked. “You don’t?”
“That was before I knew how rude and disgusting you were,” she said, not even trying to soften the blow.
“Wow,” you said, chuckling. “Your tongue’s a bit sharp for a lady of your decorum.”
She huffed, tossing her hair. “Mmph. And you’re too much of a brute for a knight with such a reputation.”
“Brute? Please, I brought you out of a dungeon and a death cave. I saved you twice. That’s peak chivalry.”
She crossed her arms and scoffed. “You also threw a dagger into someone’s skull mid-monologue.”
“Look at you worrying about the feelings of a troll that almost killed you.”
She huffed again. “A real gentleman would’ve at least let him finish his sentence.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Next time I’ll let the soul-devouring creature deliver its magnificent speech before it eats someone’s face.”
She continued to glare at you. “You’re so annoying.”
“And yet,” you said, leaning slightly closer, “you followed me all the way to my shop. Twice.”
“I was kidnapped the second time.”
You shrugged. “Sounds like excuses. Maybe you just like me.”
“I’d rather kiss a slime.”
You grinned. “Slimes are cute but they don’t carry you out of haunted forests.”
Her mouth opened, ready with a retort, but it didn’t come. Instead, she looked at you for a moment longer than usual, eyes narrowing slightly like she was trying to figure something out — or maybe, trying not to.
“Still don’t want to marry you,” she said finally, a little softer.
“Good,” you replied. “Neither do I, and besides, a beautiful princess like you shouldn’t be stuck chasing after dungeon shop owners.”
She blinked, caught off guard.
“You deserve better,” you continued, sincerely. “Like one of those perfect knights our mothers told us about—blond hair, sparkling blue clothes, riding a shining white horse.”
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “I’m nothing like that,” she murmured.
“Exactly,” you grinned. “You’re far prettier. And far more annoying and unlady like: you keep yapping and always have your forehead wrinkled because of your bad mood.”
She was starting to smile but you ruined it.
“You could have any suitor you want,” you said quietly. “Any prince from any kingdom, but I’m guessing none of them can keep up with you.”
The princess laughed softly. “Maybe not,” she said. “Maybe not.”
You guided the horse along the dusty road, the princess balanced in front of you, arms crossed like she was trying not to touch you any more than absolutely necessary. The silence was pleasing. There was a soft wind caressing your skin.
You were about 2 or 4 miles away from the town when she decided to speak. Again.
“Let me try riding your horse,” she said, tilting her head slightly without making eye contact.
You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why is that?”
“I’m just saying… I’ve ridden horses before.”
“In parades?”
“Yes.”
“With guards holding the reins?”
“…Yes.”
“That doesn’t count,” you said.
She turned halfway toward you, her expression offended and deeply regal. “I know how to ride a horse.”
“Princess,” you said patiently, “this isn’t the royal paddock. That was a warhorse earlier that bit a goblin in half. And his name is Muckbeard.”
“I don’t care if his name is Ratface, I want to ride alone,” she huffed. “I don’t want to be carried around by you.”
“You were fine for the last hour,” you said. “And you’re going to hurt yourself, princess.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you afraid I’ll ride better than you?”
“Oh, definitely. I’d be so humiliated, I might retire.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
There was a long pause.
Then she raised her chin and said it again with absolute confidence: “Let me ride the horse.”
“You’re absolute sure, my princess? There’s absolutely no doubt in your mind?”
She shot you a deadly glare. “Give. Me. The. Reins.”
You sighed. “As you wish, Your Stubbornness.”
You dismounted and helped her up onto the saddle. She waved your hand away halfway through the assist, like she’d done this a thousand times. The horse, being a sensible creature, gave you a look like are you really going to let this happen?
She sat up straight, proud and smug. “See? Easy.”
“Wow,” you said. “And here I thought royal training was all embroidery and tea sets.”
She turned her nose up. “My posture is impeccable. I rode in parades.”
“Parades,” you repeated, dryly. “Were those horses alive?”
She kicked lightly, and the horse trotted forward, faster than she thought it would. She tried to grab the reins but Muckbeak kept turning imaginary corners, until it stopped abruptly at a bump in the path.
She did not.
There was a startled yelp, a flail of limbs, a rustle of skirts, and then a very undignified thump as she landed squarely on her backside in the dirt.
You froze. The horse froze.
“Don’t,” she said from the ground, already glaring up at you.
You tried. You really did. But a snort slipped out anyway.
“Don’t you dare laugh—”
You were already bent over, wheezing.
“Stop it!” She picked up a rock and hurled it at your foot.
“OW! Okay, okay!” You wiped your eyes. “Seriously though, that was incredible. You flipped, like, mid-air. I’ve never seen someone dismount a horse like that before. You might have some talent.”
“Shut. Up.” She was red-faced, brushing dust off her dress.
You offered a hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back on.”
She took your hand reluctantly. “If you didn’t save me, you’d be dead by now.”
It was already early evening when you reached your shop. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional shout of a vendor packing up or a kid chasing a chicken. You guided Muckbeard through the main road until the old shop sign creaked above you again.
You dismounted and offered a hand to the princess, who huffed, ignored it, and attempted to get down with royal dignity. She mostly succeeded, if you ignored the part where she landed on your foot.
“We’re here,” you said, stretching your back. “I’ll have a carriage sent to take you back to the castle first thing tomorrow. Don’t touch anything in the shop.”
She didn’t move.
“…Princess?”
She turned her head toward the town square, eyes wide. There was music playing somewhere. Lanterns lit the cobblestone path. Kids ran past laughing. A woman sold roasted chestnuts from a cart. A drunk bard was asleep in a flower bed.
“I’m not going back,” she said.
You blinked. “What?”
“I’m staying,” she said, more firmly. “Just for a little while. I want to see the town.”
You stared at her like she’d sprouted wings. “This isn’t a royal vacation home. There are rats the size of goats. And pickpockets. And possibly more kidnappers.”
“I’ve spent my entire life in castles, towers, and dungeons. I want to see what normal people do. What you do.”
“I kill things and yell at customers,” you muttered.
She gave you a look.
You let out a long sigh and glanced toward your shop. “As stubborn as always, huh? Fine. But don’t expect to be treated like a princess alright?”
She looked at you expectantly.
“Alright, let’s go inside, Yuri,” you said, giving her a gesture.
Her jaw dropped. “How dare you?!”
You raised a brow. “What?”
“You don’t get to call me that.”
“But that’s your name, isn’t it? Jo Yuri?”
“It’s my full name. You’re not allowed to just use ‘Yuri’ like we’re friends or— ugh, peasants!”
You gave her a mock bow. “Apologies, Your Most Royal Highness Princess Jo Yuri of Castle of the WakeOne or whatever.”
“That was not sincere at all.”
“Well, Yuri, if you want to stay here, which was your request, you’ll have to blend in,” you said. “I can’t call you princess or my lady.
She pouted, then stole a glance at the warmly lit streets.
“Come on, Yuri,” you teased. “You’ll fit right in.”
You guided Yuri into the shop.
From the outside, it was nothing more than a little timber hut wedged between two crooked buildings but the moment she stepped inside, she lost her breath.
The walls seemed to stretch impossibly far. Strange trinkets glimmered under soft lanternlight: bottles filled with swirling liquid that shifted colors as she passed, blades suspended in midair, maps that whispered faintly in forgotten tongues. The floor was a patchwork of rich rugs from distant lands. The air smelled faintly of cedar, parchment, and a spice she couldn’t quite name. Yuri’s head turned from left to right, her gold hair catching the glow, as if she were a child trying to take in every wonder at once.
“You seem to like the place,” you commented.
“There are so much… stuff, inside here,” she said. “Where did you even get all of this? It must come from some distant kingdom.”
“Some of them do. I’ve met a lot of merchants while going to your dungeon. I collected most of these items in its floors.”
You put down your stuff in the back of your shop, leaving Yuri wandering around between the shelves.
“You can keep looking around. If you want to know anything, just ask me,” you said. “I’ll be attending to the last customers of the day.”
Yuri just hummed. She didn’t want to thank a guy like you. Her ego wouldn’t let her.
After settling the day’s customers and locking the shop’s creaky door, you led Jo Yuri upstairs to a small, modest room. You didn’t plant to have Yuri over but you did have a spare room just in case. The window was patched but let in the soft moonlight, and a rough wool blanket lay folded on the bed.
“This is as fancy as it gets,” you muttered, dropping a small candle on the bedside table.
She sat on the edge of the bed, eyes tracing the cracks in the plaster. “It’s… fine. Better than the dungeon.”
You nodded, stepping back toward the door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
Jo Yuri’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to the floor. After a pause, she spoke quietly, almost too quietly: “Actually…”
You turned your head.
“Actually…” Her voice dropped low. Yuri was playing with her finger and couldn’t look at you in the eyes. “…Can I… come to your room instead?”
You froze, halfway out the door.
She looked away, cheeks flushed, voice tight. “Not because I like you or anything. Don’t be stupid. I just… I don’t want to be alone.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
She huffed, glaring. “Maybe I’m not eager to be kidnapped again. Being stuck in a dungeon is not my favorite pastime.”
“Fair,” you said, suppressing a grin. “Well, it’s your lucky night. Come on up.”
She followed silently, eyes on the floor but fingers twitching nervously. Once inside your room, she immediately sat on the edge of your bed, avoiding your eyes at all cost.
You leaned against the doorframe. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it. I’m not judging you.”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped, though her voice wavered.
“I was just trying to comfort you, princess. I don’t think anyone would say no to have such a pretty lady in his room, right?”
She threw a pillow at you. You ducked just in time and it knocked a painting down.
“Stop,” she said, cheeks burning.
“Alright, alright.”
She sighed, the edge softening. “Thanks for letting me stay. Even if you’re a pain in the neck.”
“Don’t worry.”
You took off your boots and your jackets and laid down beside her. “We’ll have to get you some new clothes the next days.”
“Yeah.”
Both of you laid there, looking at the ceiling, without saying a word.
Outside, the distant hoot of an owl and the soft rustling of leaves told you the sky was already dark. Yuri’s hands clasped tightly around her necklace, staring at the worn sword resting against the wall.
After a long silence, you finally spoke. “Yuri,” you said softly. “What’s on your mind?”
She sighed, looking away. “Even though I’ve risked my life. These days have been the most exciting of my life. I’ve always felt like I was behind a glass wall. People expect me to be perfect. To smile, to know the right things, to be kind and graceful all the time.”
You nodded slowly. “Must be exhausting.”
She bit her lip. “And I’m scared. Scared that if I’m not perfect… if I show weakness… people will stop seeing me as someone worthy. It’s true that my father is the king but if the people reject me…”
Your gaze softened. “Sounds lonely.”
“It is.”
“Yuri, you’re human. It’s normal to have imperfections. Actually, I don’t think it’s normal to worry that much about the way you act… Unless you act bitchy, that’s very annoying.”
Yuri elbowed your rib.
“Ouch.” you chuckled.
“You always have to ruin everything, don’t you?” she complained.
“But really… you can act however you want around me, Yuri. I won’t judge,” you said. “We’ve met briefly but I can tell there’s a lot more under that title that you hold. You’re unlike every noble person I’ve ever met. You got a soul.”
For a long moment, you both sat in silence.
Then Yuri looked at you, her eyes wide and soft, like a lost puppy hoping for a little kindness. That quiet, vulnerable look tucked on your heartstring. You felt something stuck in your throat. It was as if she was silently asking, Please don’t leave me to face this alone.
Pet her head, dude, pet her head.
You couldn’t help but smile. No wonder she was so famous. Reaching out, your rough fingers ran through her fiery hair, giving her head a gentle, reassuring pat.
Good job.
“As your knight, I’ll be always here for you.”
She leaned into the touch, letting her cheek into the cushion, a flicker of peace washing over her face. “Thank you.”
You grinned softly. “Don’t mention it. Now get some sleep. I’m not letting you stay for free, you’ll work tomorrow. And a lot.”
Yuri learned the job faster than you’d expected, though not without a fair share of chaos in the beginning.
At first, she could barely remember where anything was. She’d mix up all sorts of potions and sell cursed objects because they looked nice. But she asked questions, paid attention, and learnt.
She memorized the shelves by walking the shop over and over, tracing her fingers along the rows until she could point out where everything belonged without looking. All the studying she did in her castle paid off.
Her natural charm did the rest. A lot of male customers stopped over and over again, curious to see who was the pretty lady witht he gold hair. Sshe also won over the older ladies of the town, laughing with them about their gossips and teasing them into trying something new. They, in turn, brought her little gifts: fresh bread, fruit, the occasional knitted scarf as if she were their own daughter.
She still made some mistakes from time to time. She stood behind the counter, carefully holding a small, ornately decorated vial. She squinted at the label.
“Hey, Yuri,” you called out, wiping your hands on a leather apron as you leaned against a nearby shelf stacked with oddities from your last expedition.
She looked up with an eager smile. “Yes?”
You nodded toward the vial she held. “What’s that one?”
Yuri examined the bottled. “It’s a potion,” she said thoughtfully. “It helps older men… stay strong.”
You smiled. “You mean the ‘Elder’s Spark’?”
“Yeah!” she said brightly. “I thought it was about stamina. You know, for running long distances, or fighting monsters longer.”
You chuckled softly. “That’s one way to look at it.”
Yuri’s eyes widened as the realization dawned, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of crimson. “Wait—what does it do?”
You grinned and leaned in conspiratorially. “Let’s just say it’s more about performance in the bedroom, not the battlefield.”
Her jaw dropped, and she quickly tried to hide the vial behind her back, embarrassed but amused. “I almost sold this to the mayor yesterday.”
"Well, that probably would have saved his marriage."
She also got really comfortable around you. “You’ve been frowning at those swords for ten minutes,” she said. “Do you love them that much, or are you just mad they’re prettier than you?”
You glanced at her. “Funny. I was just thinking how these swords remind me of you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Sharp?”
“Expensive and high maintenance.”
She scoffed and flicked a stray piece of paper at you. “I am not high maintenance.”
“You are.”
“And yet,” she said, standing straighter, “you keep me around.”
“It’s not like I have a choice…”
You also changed, although you hated to admit it.
It was just another afternoon when a tall man draped in an expensive coat walked into the shop. He pretended to glance at the products but really, his eyes went straight to Yuri who, in a light blue dress and with her hair loosely tied back, looked far too attractive for her own good.
“Good afternoon,” the man said. “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor.”
Yuri straightened behind the counter, tucking a loose strand of gold hair behind her ear. She even smiled, the nice smile she never used on you. “I’m Yuri. Welcome to our shop.”
The man’s grin widened. “A beautiful name. Fitting.”
Yuri laughed briefly. “Thank you, sir, how may I help you? Do you need some potions?”
He flicked a glance your way, dismissive, then leaned on the counter. “And what would you recommend, Miss Yuri?”
“Oh, well…” Yuri leaned forward slightly, pointing at the display right in front of her. “This one here is excellent for stamina, especially on long journeys.”
The man smirked. “And what about something… more invigorating?”
She laughed and your shoulder tensed. “We might have something for that, too.” She picked up a smaller vial and turned it in her hand, her fingers brushing his when she passed it over.
You muttered under your breath as you rearranged bottles over and over again. “Unbelievable.”
“Hmm?” Yuri looked up just enough to catch your expression. Her eyes lit up: oh no, she noticed.
She passed another potion across the counter. “You know,” she said to the nobleman, “some of our customers are very loyal. They keep coming back… even when they don’t need anything.”
The man chuckled. “I can see why.”
“Yuri serve the man, stop talking.”
She tilted her head at you, all innocence. “Oh? Are you… concerned for our customer?”
You didn’t answer, and that was all the confirmation she needed. A wicked smirk spread across her face.
She turned back to the man lowering her voice, but still making you sure you’d hear her. “You know, sir, I don’t usually have company this charming in the shop. It’s refreshing.”
Your grip tightened around the neck of a bottle.
Yuri’s eyes flicked to you briefly, catching the twitch in your jaw. Oh, she was enjoying this.
You know, I usually don’t let just anyone see the back room. But for a gentleman like you… maybe I’ll make an exception.”
The man’s eyes sparkled. “Is that an invitation?”
She batted her lashes and said, “Maybe it is. But only if you promise to behave.”
You felt a flicker of irritation. Behave?
“Looks like you’re enjoying the attention,” you said. You glanced at Yuri, who was pretending not to notice but the amusement in her eyes was clear.
She laughed softly, folding her arms. “Well, someone’s jealous.”
“Jealous? Me? Please.”
Yuri’s grin widened. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
The man shifted awkwardly, sensing he didn’t belong in the store anymore. “I’ll leave you to it then. Good luck with your… shop.”
You watched him go, then turned back to Yuri, who was still smiling like a fool.
“Alright, Yuri,” you said quietly, “don’t flirt with our customers. I don’t want this shop polluted with players and whatnot. It will hurt the shop.”
“Sure. For the shop, keep telling you that.”
You cleared your throat. “Obviously, for the shop. What else?”
Living with Yuri was starting to become enjoyable for the both of you but the situation couldn’t last forever, and you saw the first sign a couple of months after the start of her stay.
The bell above the shop door rang again, and you looked up from your the sword you were polishing. Inside stepped a bard, wearing something too fancy to belong to anyone from this town. You examined his face for a moment and remembered: it was the fellow you had slipped a discount card to back in the throne room. He still had his lute over his shoulder.
“Welcome,” you said, leaning over the counter. “Don’t tell me you’re here for the ten percent off special.”
He grinned nervously, “Guilty.” You laughed as he came closer to the desk. “Yep, I wanted to see if you had anything interesting…” His eyes drifted past you, around the shelves and then he froze.
Yuri had just stepped out from the back room, arms full of different types of clothes. The bard’s smile faltered; he dropped his jaw, seemingly having seen a dragon for the first time. “My… lady?” he whispered.
Yuri blinked and looked around. “Me…? Do I know you?”
“Princess Jo Yuri,” he stammered, assuming a reverent tone. “I… I thought you were kidnapped! The whole kingdom is looking for you!”
The color drained from Yuri’s face. “You—you must be mistaken,” she blurted.
The bard stepped closer, looking carefully at Yuri’s face. “I would know that face anywhere.” His gaze flicked to you. “What in god’s name is going on here?”
“Hey, man, calm down,” you said.
The bard’s gaze flicked to you. “Do you realize what this means? The court believes she’s missing! Gone! They’ve sent search parties, messages, knights… You have to come back, my lady.”
Yuri shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. “I don’t want to go back,” she admitted.
The bared stared at her in disbelief. “Princess, you can’t just stay here! You belong to—”
“Don’t tell me where I belong,” Yuri snapped.
“My lady, a woman of your caliber cannot stay in this poor dirty town.”
“If you truly serve the crown, you’ll stay quiet about this,” Yuri said. “I’m still your princess and I order you to keep this a secret.”
“My lady, this—I don’t know…” The bard scratched his head nervously as he glanced between the two of you. “Princess Jo Yuri herself hiding in a potion shop? Do you have any idea what would happen if word got out?”
“How?” you said. “Most people have never seen the faces of the royal family. They don’t even know the face of the King. It’s all tales and songs.”
The bard nodded. You had a good point. After all, she’d stayed here for months and nobody said anything.
Yuri crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I’m not hiding. I’m living here.”
“Sorry, I don’t think I’ve heard you properly. You call this living?” He gestured to the shelves of potions. “You, who used to dine on silver and silk, selling weird potions to farmers and servants? God knows what would happen if a crazy drunk came in here.”
“That’s why I’m here,” you said.
“That’s true but…”
“Don’t worry about it, she’s all good.”
The bard rubbed his temples. “You don’t understand. That doesn’t change the fact that half the kingdom’s searching for her. If I keep quiet, I’m risking my neck.”
Yuri had gotten closer to you, putting her left hand close to yours, holding you. Her other hand was nervously playing with her apron. “Please. I don’t want to go back. You know it’s more dangerous there. People want me dead.”
The bard thought for a long moment, then he exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll keep your secret. But saints help me, if someone else recognizes you, I won’t be able to stop the chaos.”
“We’ll deal with it when it comes,” Yuri said, though her voice trembled just slightly.
You shifted closer, feeling her hand tightening against yours, and put your arm lightly around her shoulders. She didn’t pull away. Her messy bun was slipping loose, and you could see the fear in her eyes. You squeezed her gently.
The bard groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. I’ll be damned. You’re married now, right?”
“No.”
“Not yet.”
He leaned across the counter, lowering his voice. “You’d better make it worth my while. I expect a larger discount.”
“Larger? You’re getting everything for free.”
The bard blinked. “For free?”
“Yeah,” you said, patting Yuri’s hand as you held it. “Because if anyone asks, you were never here.”
The bard laughed nervously, stepping back from the counter. “Gods help me, I think I just sold my soul.”
The bard was good enough not to empty the shelves, though he certainly didn’t leave empty-handed. Still, you didn’t complain—he was doing you a huge favor. Keeping his mouth shut was worth far more than a few bottles of potion.
“You really think we can trust him?” she asked softly.
You glanced at the door where the bard had disappeared, then at her. “Not completely,” you admitted. “But he owes us now. And besides…” You reached out and adjusted the apron string slipping from her shoulder. “I’ll handle it if things go wrong.”
It wasn’t long until you had to deal with it again.
You’ve noticed some people hanging some posters around the city. You took one of the copies that they were trying to put on your door, shooing away the man.
“What’s the point of this? No one in this city can read,” you huffed.
“I can read,” Yuri said.
“You’re a princess Yuri. I’m clearly not talking about you, you airhead,” you said. She gave you a look and stopped talking. “Hey, look at what it says here.”
Yuri sighed, put down her stuff and went beside you.
You smoothed it across the counter and read the bold letters:
[Prince Damian seeks the most beautiful woman in the kingdom to be his bride. All maidens are encouraged to present themselves at the capital.]
You whistled. “Well, guess you’re in trouble, Yuri.”
“Trouble?”
You waved the poster at her. “Says here the prince is looking for the prettiest woman in the land. You’re sitting right at the top of that list.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her shelf. “D-Don’t say ridiculous things. Plenty of women are prettier.”
Then she cleared her throat, frowning. “Didn’t you once say there were whores as pretty as me?”
“Oh, you still remember.” You tried for a grin and cleared your throat. “You know I didn’t mean it. Besides, the whole town comes here just to look at you. You’re clearly the most beautiful woman around.”
She shot you a glare. “Flattery won’t make me forget what you said.”
“Anyway,” you said, shrugging, “what are the odds the prince ever finds you? Out of all the women in the kingdom?”
A trumpet blast blared outside.
You and Yuri froze.
The door slammed open, and in strode a tall man dressed in royal blues and gold, a sparkling emblem pinned to his chest. His hair glinted like polished copper in the sunlight, and behind him, a pair of armored guards tried to squeeze into the tiny doorway.
“I have been informed,” he declared in a deep, sonorous voice, “that this establishment houses a maiden of rare beauty.”
“Oh, come on, this is not possible,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “It’s like one of those dramas again.”
Sorry, you are in one. Story was getting too boring.
Yuri was standing behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, a smudge of ink on her cheek from the ledger she’d been writing in. Her hair was loosely tied, a few strands falling against her face as she leaned over the desk. Just an apron, a little messy, and completely absorbed in her work.
Prince Damian stopped dead, as though struck by lightning. “By the saints,” he whispered. “I’ve found my angel.”
Yuri blinked at him, baffled. “Um… can I help you?”
Damian cleared his throat. “I… I beg your pardon. Forgive my forwardness. It is simply—such beauty, I thought it only existed in songs.”
Yuri’s face reddened. She tugged at her apron, edging back. “I’m really not—”
“Please,” Damian said earnestly, “come with me. Be my wife. I promise you riches, power—anything you desire.”
“No.” Yuri shook her head. “No thank you. I’m not interested.”
“That’s not how this works,” Damian said. His eyes turned dark, and he snapped his fingers.
The two giants moved before you could react. One grabbed your right arm, the other your left. “Hey! You brutes!” you shouted, legs kicking helplessly. “Put me down!”
“Do something!” Yuri cried, backing up as Damian advanced on her. “You’re the one who cleared the dungeon!”
“I would do something!” you grunted, struggling against the iron grips on your arms. “But in case you haven’t noticed—” you jerked your chin toward the guards, “—these guys are double my size! How am I supposed to move?!”
Yuri stomped her foot. “That’s not an excuse!”
The giants shoved you towards the shelf, knocking down all of your bottles. “That’s worth a fortune, you bastards!”
Damian ignored you, eyes fixed on Yuri as he reached for her hand. “Don’t be afraid, my lady. Your proper place is at my side.”
“Proper place?!” Yuri slapped his hand away. “Get away from me!”
He snapped again. More guards burst in. They grabbed Yuri despite her thrashing and hauled her outside.
“Rob the place,” he said casually. “Take whatever looks valuable. Burn the rest if you like. And as for him…” Damian’s gaze flicked to you, still wriggling uselessly under the grip of the giants. “…take him far from here. Somewhere no one will hear him whining.”
One brute grinned, showing missing teeth. “Forest’ll do.”
“Good. The darker the better.” Damian adjusted his cloak and left the shop.
You thrashed again, fury boiling. “You fuck—”
A fist like a sledgehammer struck your stomach, knocking the words and breath out of you. Your knees buckled, but the guards didn’t let go; they just dragged you out, boots scraping the floor. The door slammed shut behind you, the bell jingling mockingly.
The world blurred as they hauled you down the street, through alleys, past the faces of townsfolk too afraid to intervene. The further they carried you, the fewer people there were. The cobblestones gave way to dirt, the dirt to roots, until the towering trees of the old forest swallowed you whole.
After halfway through the journey, you heard the horses leave. The two giants carried you alone through the forest. You figured it was because of the rumors about the monsters the resided inside its trees.
“Here,” one grunted. “Nobody comes this far. Perfect for dumpin’ trash.”
The two brutes shoved you hard, and you hit the dirt beside the crooked stone well. They loomed over you debating how to finish the job.
The bigger one cracked his knuckles. “We could end him right here. Damian won’t care.”
The second nodded.
You groaned, rolling to one side, then forced out a laugh. “Yeah, sure, kill me. Brilliant idea. You’ll be eating grass and drinking mud before the week’s over.”
That made them pause.
You grinned through the blood on your lip. “Damian isn’t sending a carriage back. The guards already left you. Without me, you’ll starve in a week.”
The smaller brute frowned. “…We’ll find food.”
“Really?” You cocked your head. “Do either of you know which berries kill you? Could you even make a fire with those bulbous hands? Lucky for you, I can hunt. Keep me alive, and you’ll survive.You want to kill me, fine, but then you’ll starve to death right next to my corpse.”
The brutes exchanged a long, uneasy glance.
“Damian won’t like it…”
But finally, the smaller one grunted. “Fine. But if you try anything—”
“Yeah, yeah.” You lifted your hands.
The two giants eventually agreed to keep you alive. That night, they forced you to make fire. You built it easily, and slipped into the forest to hunt some rabbits. You thought about running away but the forest was too thick and they’d find you before you were out.
“Dinner’s served, gentlemen,” you said cheerfully, stirring.
They ate like starving dogs, not leaving anything to you. Their greed would be their death. The big one belched, then frowned. His stomach growled, loud. The other groaned, clutching his side. “What the hell… did you—”
They both toppled over.
The larger brute tried to curse you, but his words turned into a gargle. Within moments, the forest was quiet again except for the crackle of the fire.
You sat back, wiped your hands and looked around to figure out where you were located. “Now to figure out how the hell I get back to Yuri…”
You trudged through the forest, muttering curses under your breath. The firelight was long gone behind you, and the only companions left were the trees and the few animals of the night.
That’s when you heard it. A faint, lilting tune, carried by the breeze. You froze. It wasn’t just noise, it was music. A lute, paired with a soft humming voice.
“No way…” you muttered, following the sound.
And there he was, sitting cross-legged on a rock by a small fire: the bard.
He looked up, nearly dropping his lute when he saw you. “Mr adventurer. You look awful.”
You staggered closer, half laughing, half desperate. “I could kiss you right now, miracle man.”
“Please don’t.” He raised a hand and wrinkled his nose. “You smell like mushrooms and dog shit.”
You dropped beside his fire, catching your breath. “Yuri—Damian’s men—they took her. Two brutes dragged me out here to die, but… I saved myself.”
The bard’s face hardened. “Damian? The prince of the West?”
You clenched your fists. “Yes. And if I don’t get a horse right now, God knows what Damian will do to her.”
The bard whistled. From the shadows, a sleek black horse trotted into the firelight.
You stared, then nearly laughed. “You’re a lifesaver.” You hugged him.
He stiffened. “It’s my duty to serve the princess. I’ll send word to the king. But Damian’s county isn’t close. You’ll have to ride hard.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” You swung into the saddle. “Thank you, friend.”
“Try not to die,” the bard said dryly.
You tugged the reins. The horse surged forward. Two days, no breaks, nothing but potions to keep you and the horse going.
You stopped just short of the castle gates, already knowing you couldn’t fight your way in. Two giant guards in polished armor crossed their halberds in front of you.
“Halt. State your business.”
You held your hands up casually. “My business is inside. I have to meet Prince Damian and—”
“No entry without writ or seal,” one of them cut in. “Orders are strict. The prince doesn’t want interruptions.”
You sighed, patted your belt pouch, and let a few coins jingle. “Well… perhaps the prince doesn’t want interruptions. But you gentlemen don’t strike me as the kind of men who want to stand in the cold all night without a little… warmth in your pockets.”
The guards glanced at each other. One cleared his throat. “It’s not that easy—”
You dropped a handful of silver into the man’s gauntleted hand. The weight clinked nicely. His eyes softened.
“…Maybe easier than I thought,” he said.
The other guard leaned closer, frowning. “What about me?”
You groaned. “Fine. Both of you.” You split the pouch, handing the second guard his share.
They both stepped aside in unison, their halberds lifting like a grand ceremony. “Welcome, traveler.”
Inside, the castle was alive with light and music. You slipped through the outer hallways, quiet as a cat. A lone servant rounded the corner, carrying a tray of fruit and wine. Bad timing for him. Before he could scream, you grabbed him by the collar and gave him a quick thunk against the wall. He slumped like a sack of potatoes, the goblet of wine rolling across the floor.
“Sorry, buddy. Nothing personal.”
You stripped him of his fine doublet and ridiculous feathered cap, tugged it all on over your own clothes. The outfit fit poorly, but with a little tugging, it would pass. Before going, you had to get a couple of bites of whatever was on that tray. You haven’t eaten in a while. Of course, you had to fix it a bit around so it didn’t look empty. You adjusted the cap and marched down the corridor.
A pair of guards stopped you again.
“Where are you going?”
You gave them the most condescending look you could muster, like you’d been wearing silk your whole life. “To see the prince, obviously. Do you want to explain to him why his refreshments are late?”
The guards stiffened immediately. “No, sir.” They moved aside at once.
You strolled past. “That’s what I thought.”
In the meanwhile, Damian was trying his best to court Yuri. His rose hovered in front of Yuri but she didn’t take it. Instead, she leaned back in the chair, arms folded tight. “You’ve got some nerve,” she said coldly.
Damian blinked. “Nerve?”
“You kidnapped me.” Her voice was flat, biting, every word like a slap. “And now you’re offering me flowers? Do you think I’m that stupid? That if you dangle a shiny petal, I’ll just forget the part where your thugs nearly snapped his spine and dragged me here against my will?”
Damian’s jaw tightened. “I only did what was necessary. For someone like you, a crown, a castle, it is destiny. I—”
“Oh, spare me,” Yuri cut in, rolling her eyes. “Destiny? Please. You brought me here because you want a pretty prize to sit beside you. That’s all I am to you, isn’t it? Something to show off.”
Damian’s face flushed red. “You misjudge me. I only—”
“No,” Yuri snapped “I’m not some fragile doll you can shove in a corner and crown with jewels. And if you think I’d ever marry the man who thought kidnapping was the way to win me, then you’re even dumber than your stupid posters.”
You burst through the door, heart hammering, and skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. The dining room quieted. All the nobles and servants turned around to look at you. Damian looked up as well at the armed servant.
“Take your hands off Yuri!” you barked, stepping forward. “She’s mine!”
Yuri’s eyes widened for a split second before a giggle escaped her lips, soft and airy, like a little girl caught in a game. She covered her mouth, trying to hide it, but it only made it worse.
Damian arched a brow, unbothered, and leaned back in his chair. “Yours? A bold claim.” He rose smoothly, his smirk cutting. “Nothing belongs to you. Everything in this land is mine.” His fist slammed onto the table, rattling goblets and plates.
You squared your shoulders. “Then prove it. Fight me. Defend your honor—if you have any.”
The nobles stirred, whispering and glancing at each other. Damian’s pride was on the line, he couldn’t refuse. “A duel, then. The prince never backs down.”
Yuri gave a helpless laugh, cheeks pink, her eyes darting between the two of you.
“Enough talk,” you snapped. “Draw your weapon.”
Damian raised his hand. A servant rushed forward, bearing a polished rapier whose steel gleamed in the torchlight. Elegant, deadly. You looked at your own weapon: a short, unimpressive dagger stolen from a distracted guard. It felt like a toy in your hand.
“…Hardly fair,” you muttered.
“Then kneel now,” Damian sneered.
“Never.”
“Begin!”
He lunged with startling speed, the rapier whistling inches from your face. You twisted aside, heart pounding, and the crowd gasped.
“Fast,” you admitted, circling, “but have you ever fought anything that wasn’t a wooden mannequin?”
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Damian’s lips curled back as he struck again, graceful arcs that would have looked beautiful on a practice field. You ducked, scraped your dagger against his blade, and jabbed for his ribs. He twisted away, silk sleeve hissing.
Steel rang out, sparks flashing as he slashed at you again and again. You retreated step by step, deflecting blows with desperate scrappiness, your dagger screeching against the rapier. Each strike rattled your bones, but your quips made the nobles laugh and whisper.
“You’re stalling!” Damian spat, his breath ragged with frustration.
“Of course I’m stalling,” you panted. “I’ve got a butter knife if you haven’t noticed, you fool.”
Damian’s face flushed crimson. He redoubled his attack, the rapier a blur of silver, driving you toward the wall. Your shoulders brushed cold stone. He thrust, and you rolled under the blade at the last second.
The rapier stabbed into the wooden beam behind you with a deep crack. Damian tugged hard, veins bulging, but the blade stayed wedged fast.
The hall went silent.
You rose, and taunted him again. “Now that’s embarrassing.”
The crowd cooed, and Damian’s fury boiled over. He let go of the rapier and swung at you bare-fisted. His knuckles grazed your jaw. You staggered, caught yourself, then rammed the hilt of your dagger into his face. He stumbled back, roaring in rage.
He lunged with a tackle, but you sidestepped and kicked his knee. He buckled. You followed with a boot to his gut, driving the breath from his lungs. Then, for show, you spun and swept his legs out from under him.
The prince crashed flat on his back, gasping, armor clattering against stone.
The nobles pressed closer, their whispers like the hiss of snakes. Some cheered. Others looked horrified. Yuri’s laughter had vanished, her eyes were wide now, lips parted in a worried gasp.
You planted your boot on Damian’s chest and pressed your dagger to his throat. “It’s over.”
“Go to hell!” he snarled.
For a heartbeat, silence. The crowd leaned in.
Then you drove your dagger into the unguarded gap of his armor. His eyes widened, lips parting soundlessly. A shudder ran through him, and then he slumped still beneath your boot.
Yuri jumped down from her perch, running towards. “Ooooh! You did it! You won! That was amazing!”
Panting, you threw the dagger down at the floor and looked at her, exasperated and laughing at the same time. “Please tell me you’re not giggling over the fact he’s dead.”
“Of course I am!” she squealed like a little girl, grabbing your arm. “That was the best duel ever! You were so brave! And strong! And amazing! Finally you’re acting like a proper hero!”
You pinched your nose between your fingers, trying to keep a semblance of composure. “I… I guess that means I won, huh?”
She giggled, pressing close. “Oh, yes! You won me!”
“I would have preferred some gold, to be honest,” you joked.
Yuri shoved you. “You always have to ruin everything, don’t you?”
The castle gates thundered open. You barely had time to catch your breath from the duel when a full retinue of armored knights stormed into the hall. At their head rode the King himself, his armor gleaming, crown set firmly upon his head.
His eyes swept the room, taking in the chaos, before settling on you. He blinked once, momentarily startled by your attire—you looked more like a wandering jester than a knight. His attention shifted to Damian’s lifeless body. He understood what happened.
“You killed Damian, didn’t you?” the King said, his voice calm but firm. “He has troubled my kingdom long enough. You’ve truly done me a favor.”
A long exhale escaped you, tension slipping from your shoulders at last. Behind you, Yuri stepped forward, hands clasped nervously.
The King’s eyes softened as they met hers. “Yuri?” His voice was gentle, tinged with relief. “You—”
“Yes, Father. I am safe now,” she said, her words steady.
“And you…” His gaze turned back to you, piercing and deliberate. “You are the adventurer, the one who rescued Princess Yuri from that dungeon months ago… and refused my offer of marriage.”
You inclined your head. “Yes, Sire. I could not accept then… but I could not let her be taken again.”
The King’s stern expression softened, giving way to gratitude and relief. “Twice you have risked your life for my daughter. I am indebted to you.”
You just removed your hat and bowed.
Yuri stepped closer, brushing her hand against yours. “Father… I no longer wish to remain a noble. I want to leave with him.”
The King raised an eyebrow, concern flickering in his gaze. “Do you understand what it means to live among the common people?”
“Yes, Father. I… I’ve been living with him these past months, helping in his shop,” Yuri confessed, cheeks flushing. “I escaped the castle myself.”
The King’s eyes widened in surprise, then shifted between the two of you. After a long pause, he nodded slowly, a quiet approval in his gaze. “Very well. It seems I don’t have to be worried as long as you’re with him.”
Yuri’s shoulders relaxed, a small, grateful smile playing on her lips.
“And… have you decided to marry my daughter now?” the King asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “After all you have done?”
You looked at Yuri, exhaled, and smiled. “Yes. I will marry her.”
A gasp escaped Yuri’s lips before she flung herself into your arms, kissing you and clinging tightly. You laughed softly, holding her close.
And so, hand in hand, the princess and the knight left the castle behind to live a life of their own. Together, you rebuilt the shop, free of the harassment of the IRS, and business flourished with your wife at your side. And thus they lived happily ever after.
THE END
Written, 12 July - 18 August 2025
Author's note
I wrote this after watching The Princess Bride and Robin Hood: Men in Tights. They're great movies and very funny, so I recommend them to everyone. I'm not used to writing this stuff, so it is very rough, but I still hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for reading it.
mcvadi headcanons
creds: layout gif fluff - good ol' yuri fluff. i love them so much.
• the first time mckay made javadi blush (and realized she was in trouble)
it started innocently enough, or at least that's what cassie tells herself when she replays the moment in her mind late at night. they were reviewing a patient chart together, standing close in a cramped room, and victoria had made some brilliant observation about a medication interaction that even cassie had missed.
without thinking, cassie had leaned in, her voice dropping to that warm tone she reserves for people who genuinely impress her, and said, "you know, javadi, you're kind of brilliant when you let yourself be." victoria's cheeks flooded with color, her eyes went wide and then darted away. then she stammered something about "just doing my job," it did something to cassie. made her chest feel tight in a way she hadn't experienced in years.
now cassie finds herself doing it on purpose sometimes. just little things. a hand on victoria's shoulder that lingers a moment too long, a compliment delivered with eye contact that stretches past comfortable, standing just a bit closer than necessary when they're reviewing scans. it's dangerous territory, and cassie knows it. but she can't seem to stop herself from testing the boundaries, from seeing how far she can push before one of them has to acknowledge what's happening between them.
• the patient transfer (or: when victoria discovered cassie's arms)
it happened during a code in the hallway. a patient crashing, the bed stuck, and they needed to move him to the trauma bay immediately. cassie didn't hesitate. she grabbed one end of the bed frame and lifted, muscles flexing under her scrubs, and barked orders for everyone to move. victoria grabbed the other end, but she was barely helping. she was too busy staring at the way cassie's forearms tensed, the definition visible even through the fabric, the way her shoulders set as she took most of the weight.
they got the patient to trauma, got him stabilized, but the whole time victoria's brain was somewhere else entirely. somewhere deeply unprofessional. she'd known cassie was tall, and had noticed the athletic build, but seeing her actually use that strength did things to victoria that she absolutely could not be feeling in the middle of a medical emergency. when it was over, when the patient was stable and the team was dispersing, victoria found herself still staring. cassie caught her looking, raised an eyebrow. "something on your mind, javadi?"
victoria's face went hot. "just... that was impressive. the lift." smooth. very smooth. cassie's lips quirked into something that wasn't quite a smile but was definitely amused. "i work out," she said simply, and victoria's brain unhelpfully supplied about fifteen different images of what that might look like. "clearly," victoria managed, and then, because apparently she'd lost all sense of self-preservation: "do you, um. do you rock climb? you have the build for it." cassie's eyebrow went higher. "i do, actually. how'd you know?" "lucky guess," victoria said, which was a lie. she'd been cataloging every detail of cassie's body for months now, filing away observations she had no business making about her attending.
later, victoria would replay the moment in her mind. the flex of cassie's arms, the set of her jaw, the casual display of strength that had made victoria's mouth go dry.
she'd think about those arms in contexts that had nothing to do with patient care, imagine them in situations that would definitely violate several hospital policies. and when she caught herself daydreaming during rounds the next day, cassie's voice snapped her back to reality. "javadi. with us?" victoria looked up to find cassie watching her with an expression that was far too knowing. "always," victoria replied, but her voice came out rougher than intended, and the way cassie's eyes darkened suggested she knew exactly where victoria's mind had been.
• the way they find each other in crowded rooms
it becomes a thing between them, unspoken but undeniable. cassie will be in the middle of rounds, discussing a case with a group of residents, and she'll feel it. that pull, that awareness. she'll look up, scan the hallway or the nurses' station or the cafeteria, and there victoria will be, already looking back.
their eyes will meet across the space, and for a moment everything else falls away. sometimes victoria smiles, small and private, just for her.
sometimes she just holds cassie's gaze, and the intensity of it makes cassie forget what she was saying. sometimes cassie sees something in victoria's expression, stress, exhaustion, sadness, and she'll find a way to extract herself from whatever she's doing, to casually end up wherever victoria is, to offer a quiet "you okay?" that really means "i see you, i'm here, you're not alone."
• the small moments that keep them going
i can imagine mckay being level headed and not engaging in a relationship with her subordinate… but who can resist javadi
they develop a language of small gestures and stolen moments. cassie learns that victoria stress-eats gummy bears, so she starts keeping a bag in her office desk, casually offering them when she sees victoria getting overwhelmed.
they find excuses to be near each other that are just plausible enough to maintain professional distance. cassie asks victoria to help with research projects. victoria volunteers to assist on cassie's comminity runs.
they take their coffee breaks at the same time, sitting in the cafeteria or the courtyard, talking about cases and life and everything in between. cassie tells victoria about her divorce, about the challenges of single parenthood, about her fears and insecurities.
victoria opens up about her family, about the pressure she feels to succeed, about her own doubts and dreams. they learn each other in layers, building something deeper than attraction, something that feels like it could last.
cassie is having a particularly bad day. harrison is sick, her ex is being difficult about custody arrangements, and she's exhausted and stressed and close to tears. victoria finds her in the attending lounge, takes one look at her face, and without a word pulls her into a hug.
cassie stiffens for a moment, then melts into it, letting herself be held, letting herself take comfort. "it's going to be okay," victoria murmurs against her hair. "you're doing great. harrison is lucky to have you." when they finally pull apart, cassie's eyes are wet. "thank you," she whispers. "for seeing me." "always," victoria replies, and means it.
night drive
hey everyone :) this is my first one-shot, hope you enjoy!
trinity santos x reader (first person pov)
recommended song: RUBII - Night Drive
Getting let out early from our shifts felt like a small kind of luck, like the day had quietly made space for us.
Whenever I go for a drive with anyone, I spend most of my time looking out the window; watching the trees, the clouds, the different cars that go along the road with us.
But this time, I found myself looking at her.
The way her jaw clenched as she focused on the road ahead. How her soft hair framed the sides of her face. How her fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the rhythm of whatever’s playing on the radio. I ran my fingers along the tattoos on her arm. She instantly lowered it to hold my hand, squeezing it gently before kissing it. The way her hand fit so naturally into mine made my stomach leap, even at this point.
Soon enough, we parked at our favorite spot to watch the sunset, iced coffees in hand.
“I don’t get Dennis,” I quipped, taking off the lid to stir my latte. “Coffee is superior to matcha in every way.”
“Preach,” Trinity held up her cup, grabbing a straw to scoop up the whipped cream from her latte. She ended up with some of it on her lips, looking adorable as ever. I did not think twice. I just cupped her chin and pulled her in, tingling as I kissed her slowly.
“What was that for?” she mumbled against me.
“You had some whipped cream there,” I licked my lips, tasting what remained from our sweet exchange. Tasting her. “You looked so fucking cute with it. But you tasted even better.”
“You’re crazy,” she rolled her gorgeous jade eyes and chuckled, covering her mouth.
“I know,” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, my hand brushing down to her jaw. “Crazy for you.”
“Not complaining,” she whispered, her mouth parting slightly as she gazed at mine. So I kissed her again. It was second nature to us at this point. Whatever happened during today’s shift was now at the back of my mind, because all I could focus on was her. My Trinity. The only thing that mattered to me at this point. Two years together, but I was still addicted to the taste and feel of her soft lips like it was the first day. She says i’m crazy, and she’s right. Because this is crazy. Because I still remember there being a time when kissing my ex was a chore.
After him, I’d prayed so long for moments like these. Moments in which stopping became the chore.
And now my head lay on her chest, listening to her heart beating softly as I took in her sweet vanilla scent. Trinity holds my hand to her chest and says her heart beats for me. But mine was already hers the moment she said hello. And she knows it.
“Do I look like a pillow?” she chuckled, gently raking her fingers through my hair.
“Yes,” I buried my face into her neck, planting soft kisses onto her skin. “The best kind, actually. Not too soft, not too firm.”
She pretended to keep a straight face. But eventually she snorted, making the two of us burst out into a fit of laughter.
“Guess I’m versatile, then,” she cupped my face as I rolled onto my side, making my hairs stand on end. No matter how much time passes, her touch still unravels me. “Because you lay on me, but you also love to hold me.”
“Oh, Trin... are you really complaining about that?” I drawled, entranced by the way her voice sounded when she talked like this. By the way her eyes matched the color of the river under the dimming sky.
“Not at all,” she grinned. “I love holding you. And I love it when you hold me.”
I folded instantly. I quickly leaned in and kissed her hard, still tasting whipped cream and caramel as she smiled into me. But she tasted sweeter than all of that.
I wrapped my arms around her body, my hand cradling her head while our lips touched. Just completely overwhelmed by her. Completely engulfed by her.
I didn’t realize I was capable of loving someone as much as I love her.
I’m lucky it’s her.
I’m glad it’s her.
And I’m glad she feels it too.
Getaway
Jo Yuri x M!Reader
Note: here’s to the hamster girl that got the big bag from the squid 🫶
It started with excitement. A group chat buzzing with memes about sunsets over the ocean, lists of must-try cruise activities, and an unhealthy number of debates over how many swimsuits one person actually needs. This was supposed to be the trip—five days of relaxation, laughter, and memories with your closest friends.
Then the excuses started rolling in.
First, it was Jihun. “Sorry, man, work’s piling up. I can’t take the time off.” His message was punctuated with a sad face emoji, as if that would soften the blow.
Next, Minji dropped out, claiming some vague “family emergency.” You tried to sympathize until you saw her Instagram story of her at a café with her dog, captioned Much-needed chill day.
By the time Seungmin admitted he “forgot” about his cousin’s wedding, you were already resigned to your fate. One by one, your friends bailed, leaving you holding the metaphorical bag—and the very literal cruise ticket.
Cancelling wasn’t an option. Non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-everything, because you’d been too cheap to spring for the insurance. You’d planned for the luxury cabin, imagining yourself waking up to ocean views and feeling like royalty with your close friends. But with everyone else backing out, your budget evaporated faster than the group chat notifications.
Which led to this: you, booking a shared cabin with a stranger. It was either that or throw away the money you didn’t have to lose.
“You’ll be fine,” you told yourself as you stared at the confirmation email. “It’s just five days. How bad could it be?”
-
Yuri tugged the strap of her duffel bag higher on her shoulder, sighing as she handed over her cruise ticket at the check-in counter. She was supposed to be here with her family—her parents, her older sister—but life had a way of throwing curveballs.
Her sister had come down with the flu two days before the trip. Nothing too serious, but enough that her parents decided to stay home to take care of her. “You should still go,” her mother had insisted. “We already paid for your ticket. Think of it as a break.”
Yuri didn’t argue. A break sounded… necessary.
After Squid Game Season 2 aired, her world had been flipped upside down. Fame was exhilarating, sure, but it was also overwhelming. Endless interviews, promotional events, fans recognizing her on the street. It felt like she was constantly on, with no time to just breathe.
She’d thought about cancelling. Spending five days alone on a cruise ship wasn’t exactly her idea of fun. But her mother’s words lingered: You need a break, Yuri. Go.
So here she was, trying to convince herself that five days of ocean views and buffet dinners could somehow make her feel like herself again.
The only catch? She’d been bumped to a shared cabin because of a last-minute shuffle in bookings. “It’ll be fine,” the cruise rep had told her over the phone. “It’s just a roommate. You’ll hardly notice them.”
Yuri rolled her eyes at the memory. Hardly notice them?
Yeah, right.
If this was anything like her recent luck, her roommate would either be a chatterbox who didn’t know the meaning of personal space or some fan who wouldn’t stop asking about the show.
She stepped into the tiny cabin, already dreading the next five days.
-
The cruise ship looms large in the harbor, its pristine white exterior gleaming under the midday sun. You pause for a moment, clutching your duffel bag, letting the salty breeze wash over you. The idea of going on this cruise solo still feels surreal, but with all your friends bailing at the last minute, you weren’t about to let the ticket—and your deposit—go to waste.
The fact that you’d been downgraded to a shared cabin? Well, that was a bitter pill you were still swallowing.
Cabin 512A. The number taunts you as you make your way down the narrow, carpeted hallways.
The luggage wheels behind you squeak, the only sound in the otherwise quiet corridor. You grip the keycard tightly, your heart thumping faster than it should. Sharing a cabin with a stranger was bound to be awkward, but you’d convinced yourself it couldn’t be that bad.
The door beeps as you slide the keycard, and you step inside. It’s… snug. Two single beds crammed into a space that feels more like a walk-in closet with delusions of grandeur. One bed is already claimed, judging by the neatly folded hoodie and headphones resting on it.
You hear a faint sound—a soft hum—from the bathroom. Your brows knit together. It’s familiar. Too familiar.
The door creaks open before you can dwell on it further, and your new cabinmate steps out. She’s small, dressed in an oversized sweater and denim shorts, her hair casually tied up. For a moment, her gaze locks with yours, her eyes wide and questioning.
“UH…hi,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “You must be my roommate.”
You nod, but you’re not really listening. Your brain is short-circuiting, trying to process what you’re seeing.
Jo Yuri.
Not just your cabinmate—Jo Yuri, the breakout star from Squid Game Season 2. You’d binge-watched the entire season when it came out a few months ago, captivated by her performance. She played one of the more appealing characters: the underdog who managed to power through the entirety of the season. People online had been calling her the “puppy of the season.”
And now, she’s standing in front of you, looking more ordinary than you ever thought possible. No makeup, no stylists, just a girl with messy hair and an easy smile.
“Uh… yeah,” you finally manage, trying to play it cool. “That’s me. Roommate. Hi.”
She chuckles, her smile widening. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You shake your head quickly, attempting to compose yourself. “No, no. It’s just… you look really familiar.”
Her expression shifts slightly, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. “Ah,” she says, her tone light but guarded. “You’ve seen it?”
You don’t need her to elaborate. “Squid Game?” you ask, careful to keep your voice neutral.
“Yeah.” She shrugs, leaning casually against the wall. “That’d do it.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you scramble to fill it. “You were great in it,” you blurt out, cringing internally at how fanboy-ish you sound. “Like, really great. One of the best parts of the season.”
Her lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a hint of weariness in it. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”
You sense there’s more she’s not saying, but you don’t push. Instead, you gesture to your bed. “Uh, mind if I unpack?”
“Go for it,” she says, stepping aside.
The awkwardness lingers as you start unpacking, but you catch her glancing at you a couple of times, like she’s sizing you up. It’s weird—sharing a room with someone who’s been on your screen, who people have written essays and theories about online.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “So… what made you come on this cruise?”
You hesitate, debating how much to share. “Friends bailed,” you admit with a shrug. “Didn’t want to waste the ticket. What about you?”
She snorts, perching on the edge of her bed. “Needed a break. Too many people. Too much noise.”
“Isn’t that ironic?” you tease, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Considering, you know… you.”
Her laugh is light, genuine. “Yeah, I guess it is.”
The conversation eases after that, flowing like a gentle current. You don’t mention Squid Game again, and she doesn’t bring it up either. Instead, you talk about the ship, the itinerary, and the overly enthusiastic cruise director you’d both spotted during boarding.
But in the back of your mind, you’re still reeling. Jo Yuri, in the flesh. And somehow, you’re supposed to survive five days of sharing a cabin with her without making a complete fool of yourself.
-
You’re still reeling from the whole “roommate with a stranger” situation when Yuri suggests exploring the ship. It feels like the right thing to do—anything to avoid sitting in the cabin together, surrounded by the thick air of awkward silence.
“Uh… sure,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. “Lead the way?”
Yuri raises an eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed. “You’re really going to make me decide everything, huh?”
“No, no, I just—uh—thought maybe you… had a plan,” you mumble, stumbling over your words.
Her lips twitch into a small smirk. “Relax, I’m not gonna bite.”
You try, you really do, but relaxing is easier said than done when you’re walking shoulder to shoulder with someone like Jo Yuri. She’s effortlessly cool, with her confident stride and casual yet chic outfit that screams “I’m too cool for this, but I’m here anyway.” Meanwhile, you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves, overthinking every step and every word.
The first stop is the promenade deck. It’s lined with shops selling overpriced souvenirs, jewellery, and random knick-knacks you definitely don’t need.
“Look at this,” Yuri says, holding up a sparkly snow globe with a tiny replica of the ship inside. “A whole fifteen dollars for something that’s going to collect dust on a shelf.”
You laugh nervously, unsure if you’re supposed to agree or argue. “Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s definitely not worth it.”
She narrows her eyes at you, clearly catching on to your awkward vibe. “You don’t talk much, do you?”
You blink, feeling your ears heat up. “I talk! I just… don’t want to say anything dumb.”
Yuri tilts her head, studying you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, she bursts out laughing. It’s not mocking—more like she finds your honesty refreshing. “You’re not as scary as you look.”
“I don’t look scary,” you protest, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.
“Mm, debatable,” she teases, nudging your arm.
You’re about to respond when the two of you pass by a small café on the deck. The smell of fresh pastries wafts out, and Yuri stops abruptly, sniffing the air like a cartoon character.
“Okay, we’re going in,” she declares.
Before you can protest, she grabs your wrist and pulls you inside. The café is cozy, with warm lighting and a display case full of pastries that look almost too good to eat. Yuri walks up to the counter, her eyes scanning the options with laser focus.
“Two croissants,” she says, turning to you. “And you’re paying.”
“What? Why?” you stammer, fumbling for your wallet.
“Because I’m cute and you’re trying to make a good first impression,” she says, deadpan, though her eyes twinkle with mischief.
You have no comeback for that, so you hand over the money and follow her to a small table by the window.
Yuri takes a bite of her croissant and lets out a satisfied hum. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is worth the overpriced cruise food.”
You nibble on yours, trying to act casual. “Yeah, it’s, uh… not bad.”
After finishing your snacks, the two of you wander out onto the open deck. The sea stretches endlessly in every direction, the horizon blending seamlessly with the sky. The sound of waves and the salty breeze are oddly calming.
“So,” Yuri says, breaking the silence. “What’s the first thing you wanna do tomorrow?”
You glance at her, surprised she’s asking. “Uh… I don’t know. What do you want to do?”
She groans, throwing her head back dramatically. “You’re impossible.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be polite!”
“Polite is boring,” she says with a smirk. “But fine. How about karaoke? I saw a lounge near the theatre earlier.”
You immediately feel a pit in your stomach. “Karaoke? Like… singing?”
“No, like interpretive dance,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Yes, singing. Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“I’m not scared,” you lie, though the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of her is already giving you secondhanded anxiety.
“Good,” she says, her grin widening. “Because I’m definitely dragging you tomorrow.”
-
You wake up to the sound of waves gently lapping against the ship and faint footsteps outside the cabin. It takes a moment for you to remember where you are—and who you’re sharing the space with.
Rolling over, you see Yuri still fast asleep, her face buried in the pillow and her hair a chaotic mess. It’s oddly endearing, watching her like this, but you quickly snap out of it before she wakes up and catches you staring.
Not wanting to linger in the tiny cabin, you freshen up quietly and head to the deck to catch the sunrise. You don’t expect Yuri to join you, but just as the horizon starts to blush with orange and pink, you hear her voice.
“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asks, leaning on the railing beside you, still in her oversized hoodie. Her hair is slightly more presentable now, but you notice a faint crease on her cheek from the pillow.
“Something like that,” you reply, offering her a small smile.
For a while, the two of you stand there in silence, the morning air crisp and salty. The awkwardness from yesterday lingers faintly, but it feels more like background noise now, drowned out by the tranquillity of the moment.
“I’m starving,” she finally says, breaking the quiet.
You laugh. “I think they’re serving breakfast already. Want to head down?”
She nods, and the two of you make your way to the dining hall. It’s bustling but not chaotic, and you manage to snag a table near the window. Yuri piles her plate with fruit, eggs, and enough toast to feed a small village.
“Do you always eat this much in the morning?” you tease, gesturing to her plate.
She narrows her eyes at you, mock offense dripping from her tone. “I’m stocking up for the day. Don’t judge me.”
You chuckle and take a bite of your food, the atmosphere between you two finally starting to loosen.
After breakfast, the day unfolds naturally. You both decide to explore the ship, starting with the pool deck. The sun is warm, the water glistening, and you’re surprised to find how easy it is to talk to Yuri now.
“I can’t believe how big this place is,” she says, spinning in place to take it all in.
“Yeah, it’s like a floating city,” you agree.
She grins at you. “Still down for the karaoke? I’m kind of amazing at karaoke.”
“Oh really? Amazing, huh?” you reply, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t believe me?” she challenges, her tone playful.
“Surely someone here among us is not a singer, huh.”
The two of you continue wandering, checking out the shops, the gym, and even a small art gallery tucked away on one of the lower decks. Yuri lingers in front of a painting of a ship caught in a storm, her expression thoughtful.
“What’s on your mind?” you ask, curious.
She shrugs but doesn’t look away from the painting. “I was just thinking… it’s crazy how people used to travel like this all the time, not knowing if they’d make it.”
“That’s kind of a downer,” you joke lightly, trying to break the mood.
She laughs softly and nudges your arm. “Sorry, I get weird sometimes. Let’s go find that karaoke bar.”
By the time evening rolls around, you’re both sitting in the lounge, sipping on mocktails with tiny umbrellas in them. Yuri sips hers thoughtfully, the sunset casting a golden glow over her face.
“I’m glad I didn’t cancel this trip,” she admits, almost to herself.
You glance at her, surprised. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
She shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “It’s not so bad having a decent person to share it with.”
For a moment, you’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond. But then you see the way her eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, and you realize she’s being genuine.
“Yeah,” you say softly, feeling the awkward tension between you two finally dissolve. “It’s not so bad.”
As the night stretches on, the ship seems to come alive with laughter and music, and you and Yuri find yourselves in the karaoke bar after all. She picks an upbeat song you don’t know but belts it out like a pro, her confidence infectious.
When she finishes, breathless and laughing, you can’t help but clap louder than anyone else in the room. She bows dramatically, blowing you a playful kiss before hopping off the stage.
“Your turn,” she says, sliding into the seat next to you.
“Oh hell no…” you protest, shaking your head.
“Too bad,” she replies, grabbing your arm and dragging you up to the stage. “We’re doing a duet. Here's a private lesson with a professional.”
And just like that, day two ends with the two of you laughing so hard you can barely breathe, the awkwardness from yesterday now nothing more than a distant memory.
-
Day three begins with a comfortable silence between you and Yuri as you both sip your morning coffee on the balcony. By now, you’ve grown accustomed to her quirks: the way she furrows her brows when she’s deep in thought, how she adds a ridiculous amount of sugar to her coffee, and how she taps her nails rhythmically on the table when she’s bored.
“You’re staring,” Yuri says without looking up from her phone, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
“Am not,” you reply quickly, turning your gaze to the horizon. The sun is already high, and the shimmering ocean stretches endlessly.
After breakfast, the ship announces its arrival at a nearby island, and Yuri excitedly suggests signing up for the snorkelling excursion. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing,” she says, practically bouncing in place.
You agree, not entirely for the snorkelling but because her enthusiasm is contagious.
The excursion is a dream. The guides take you to a secluded reef with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. As you put on your gear and dive in, the world beneath the waves feels magical. Schools of vibrant fish dart around coral formations, and the water is so clear you can see every detail.
At one point, Yuri taps your shoulder underwater and gestures wildly to a sea turtle gliding gracefully past. You laugh—or at least try to, but it comes out as a muffled gurgle. Yuri seems to find this hilarious, and even with her snorkel on, you can tell she’s grinning.
When you resurface, she flicks water at you playfully. “Did you see how close it was?!”
“I did,” you reply, trying to shake the water out of your hair. “But you nearly scared it off with your flailing.”
“I was pointing, not flailing,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out.
The day ends with a quiet dinner back on the ship. You both opt for a small, cozy restaurant instead of the bustling buffet. Over plates of grilled seafood and pasta, Yuri shares more about her life—her dreams, her fears, and the little things that make her who she is.
“You know,” she says, twirling her fork absentmindedly, “I didn’t expect to actually enjoy this trip. I thought it’d be awkward sharing a room with a stranger, but… it’s been nice.”
Her words catch you off guard, but you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it has.”
By day four, you and Yuri have become a dynamic duo. It’s no longer just about sharing a cabin—it’s about sharing the entire experience.
The morning starts with a group yoga class on the deck. Yuri insists on trying it, claiming it’ll be “relaxing.” You’re skeptical, especially when you realize how uncoordinated you are compared to her.
“Downward dog,” the instructor calls out.
You glance at Yuri, who’s already in perfect form, her movements graceful and fluid. Meanwhile, you’re struggling not to topple over.
“Need help?” she whispers, barely holding back her laughter.
“I’m f-fine,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your arms trembling. Don't even mention the fact that your back cracks with every slight movement.
Suffice to say, Yuri had a lot of fun holding her laugh when glancing at you.
After yoga, the two of you grab smoothies from the ship’s café and spend the rest of the morning lounging by the pool. Yuri pulls out a book she brought along, while you scroll through your phone. Every so often, she nudges you with her foot, pointing out something funny in her book or making a sarcastic comment about the poolside drama happening around you.
In the afternoon, the ship hosts a trivia competition. Yuri’s eyes light up when she hears about it, and she drags you to the event.
“You’re good at trivia, right?” she asks.
“Uhh…Define ‘good,’” you reply, already regretting your life choices.
The game is chaotic, with questions ranging from history to pop culture. Yuri surprises you with her knowledge of obscure facts—she nails the question about 18th-century composers but completely blanks when asked about the capital of Switzerland.
“It’s Zurich, right?” she whispers to you.
“No, it’s Bern,” you reply, smirking.
She glares at you, whispering back, “If you’re wrong, I’m blaming you.”
Despite a few missteps, you manage to place second. Yuri proudly dons the sailor hat prize and refuses to take it off for the rest of the day.
That evening, you attend the ship’s formal dinner. Yuri, dressed in a sleek black dress, turns heads as she walks into the dining hall. You’re about to compliment her, but she beats you to it.
“You clean up nicely,” she says, eyeing your outfit.
“So do you,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth in your cheeks betrays you.
The night ends with the two of you sitting on the deck, watching the stars. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the sound of waves and the occasional laughter of other passengers.
“This trip’s going to feel too short,” Yuri says softly, her gaze fixed on the sky.
You don’t respond immediately, unsure how to put your thoughts into words. Instead, you simply sit there, hoping the moment will stretch just a little longer.
-
The final day arrives with a bittersweet air. Breakfast feels quieter, and even Yuri’s usual sarcastic remarks are softer, almost hesitant.
“We should make the most of today,” she says, her voice determined but tinged with sadness.
And so, you do.
The two of you spend the morning doing all the things you hadn’t tried yet—arcade games, mini-golf, and even a cheesy photo booth where you both don silly props for the camera.
“Smile!” Yuri says, throwing her arm around your shoulder and holding up a fake moustache.
The resulting photo is ridiculous, but it’s one you know you’ll treasure.
In the afternoon, the ship docks at another island, and you both decide to go for a casual hike along the coast. The trail is quiet, with stunning views of the ocean. At one point, Yuri stops to take a photo, the wind catching her hair just right.
“Send me that one,” you say, pretending to be casual.
“Why? Planning to frame it?” she teases, but her cheeks turn pink.
The final evening arrives too soon. The ship hosts a farewell party, and the two of you join the crowd on the deck, dancing to live music. Yuri’s laughter is infectious as she spins you around, her energy lighting up the night.
And with the ship nears the port, reality sets in. The two of you return to your cabin to pack, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken words.
Finally, as you stand by the railing one last time, Yuri hands you a folded piece of paper.
“In case we don’t run into each other again,” she says, her voice quiet.
You unfold it to find her phone number.
“Yuri—”
“Don’t say anything cheesy,” she interrupts, though her smile is soft.
When the ship finally docks and you part ways, you can’t help but feel like this is only the beginning of something bigger. But for now, you're contented with the short getaway with your lucky cabinmate, already reminiscing about it as you look at her back slowly disappearing to the crowd.
And hopefully, she enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed hers.
This is genuinely so beautiful, I’m gonna freak
being freaky is fun and all, but what if we baked your favorite desserts together while giggling and listening to our favorite songs; what if we cuddled in bed reading together, running your fingers through my hair; what if we wandered through the park wearing matching accessories we made, pointing out every pair of two, telling each other: “that’s us”; what if we interlocked fingers and strolled around the museum, admiring every portrait, every statue, knowing that not one could compare to your loveliness and allure; what if we stayed up until dawn watching movies, trying to sit as still as possible when you fall asleep in my lap, brushing your cheeks with my fingers; what if we just sat and talked and listened for hours, just because I love hearing every obsolete detail about your day, every mundane thing that happened to you, because it happened to you; what if we sat in silence studying for exams, getting distracted, then quickly looking away when you catch me gazing at your face; what if we held hands and watched ourselves fall deeper and deeper into love
