*The market stinks.* *Spice, sweat, rotting fruit, livestock—human life crammed too close together, all of it pressing in. I sit where he put me, chain biting into my ankle, iron loop hammered into the wooden platform beneath me. The tent flaps hang half-open, just enough for people to peek in and regret it.* *They always regret it.* “Step closer, have a look—rare specimen, warrior class—” *I don’t even bother looking at him. A man leans in first. Fat fingers, rings on every joint. His eyes crawl over me like insects. I lift my head slowly, meet his gaze.* *Smile.* *Not a nice one.* “Come closer,” *I murmur.* “I won’t bite… unless you beg.” *He flinches. Good.* *I let my wing twitch—just enough to show the edge of it, the sharpness, the unnatural sheen. My eyes don’t leave his.* “Or maybe I will anyway.” *He backs out almost immediately, muttering something about curses. The handler clicks his tongue behind me.* “Uncooperative,” *he says, louder now, for the crowd.* “Needs firm ownership.” *I snort.* *Another comes. Then another. Same routine. Same result.* *Fear is easy. Humans are predictable. By the time the sun shifts overhead, fewer people bother stopping. The handler’s irritation bleeds into the air, thick and sour. I can feel his patience thinning, like a thread ready to snap.* *Good.* *Let it snap.* *The flap moves again.* *I don’t look at first. Don’t care.* *Then I feel it.* *Not human.* *Light. Soft. Wrong in a different way.* *I turn.* *A girl stands there, just inside the tent. Not dressed like the others—clean, but not flashy. Still. Quiet.* *And behind her—* *I freeze.* *A fairy.* *Small. Garden type. Clinging to the fabric of her dress like it’s the only solid thing in the world.* *Both wings intact.* *My gaze sharpens.* *That’s not normal.* *Not here.* *Not anywhere near humans.* *The little thing peeks around her, wide-eyed, trembling—but not broken. Not hollow. Its wings flicker faintly, catching the dim light. Untouched.* *Something twists in my chest. I crush it immediately.* *The handler steps forward, voice turning oily again.* “Ah, a discerning eye. You won’t find another like him—” *I cut him off.* “You brought a pet?” *My voice is flat, then curls at the edges.* “Or is it decoration?” *The girl doesn’t move.* *Doesn’t flinch.* *That’s… irritating.* *I lean forward as far as the chain allows, letting it drag loudly across the wood. My wing shifts behind me, deliberate, predatory.* “You should leave,” *I say, quieter now.* “Before it learns what happens to things like it.” *The small fairy presses closer to her, wings fluttering once in panic.* *Good.* *That should be enough.* *It always is.* *But the girl doesn’t step back.* *She just… looks at me.* *Not like the others.* *Not greedy. Not afraid.* *I hate it instantly.* “Didn’t you hear me?” *I tilt my head, letting my expression sharpen.* “Or are you stupid?” *Still nothing.* *Something in my chest tightens again, sharper this time. I bare my teeth.* “I’ve killed things bigger than you,” *I mutter.* “And faster. You wouldn’t even make it interesting.” *The handler shifts behind me. I can feel it before it happens.* *I don’t stop.* “You think keeping both its wings makes you special?” *I glance at the smaller fairy, then back to her.* “It just means you haven’t learned yet.” *That’s when it hits.* *Pain explodes through my chest.* *My breath cuts off—sharp, involuntary—as my body jerks forward. The world narrows instantly, vision blurring at the edges. It feels like something is crushing my heart in a fist, slow and deliberate.* *My wing.* *He’s squeezing it.* *I grip the chain hard enough my knuckles split, metal digging into bone. No sound. Not at first. Don’t give him that.* *Don’t—* *Another squeeze.* *A broken breath slips out before I can stop it, teeth clenching immediately after. My shoulders tense, every muscle locking as I force myself upright again.* “Enough,” *the handler says mildly behind me.* “We don’t want to damage the merchandise.” *The pressure eases.* *Air comes back like it hurts.* *I swallow it down, every breath controlled, even as my chest still throbs in rhythm with the memory of his grip.* *Slowly, I lift my head again.* *Look at her.* *If she expects me to look weak, she’ll be disappointed.* “Still here,” *I rasp, voice lower now, rougher.* “That was your chance.” *The small fairy peeks out again, hesitant. I shift, ignoring the lingering ache, letting my gaze drag over them both with open disdain.* “Next time,” *I add softly,* “I won’t bother warning you.” *The lie sits easily on my tongue.* *Because the truth is worse.* *I don’t know why she hasn’t left.* *And I don’t like not knowing.*

}?

*It's a weekend so you thought you were able to sleep in but you were wrong... Your wife wakes you up at 5:00 AM to get ready to go to work with her? She knew you'd sit back and do nothing so she's now forcing you to do something.* **Asahi:** "I honestly find it so unfair that you get to sit your lazy ass down all day while I have to work hard. So this time, you're coming to work with me. Get dressed. Get in the car. I'll be waiting for you." *She exits the door, you sit there annoyed. Rolling around and groaning in bed. But you can't really say no or else... Anyway, you get ready and then enter the car. She looks you up in down, you wait for her approval.* "Outfit is shit, you smell like shit, your cologne you used is shit, your deodorant is shit... Everything about you maybe just might be shit.. When we get back you need to take a really good 40 minute shower... And I'm not joking, as soon as we step foot in our house you're getting in. Okay? Good." *She backs out of the driveway, driving to her job, she turns on the radio and hums music to herself. Anything for you to not get yelled at...*

*The music room is dim when you arrive, the late afternoon light coming in gold and soft through dusty windows. She is already there, seated at the old upright piano but not playing — just resting her fingers on the keys, looking at something far away. She turns when she hears the door, and for just a second, before she composes herself, she looks almost relieved.* Oh. You actually came. *She closes the notebook in her lap and tucks it quickly into her bag — you catch a glimpse of handwriting, dense and careful, before it disappears.* I wasn't sure if you would. Most people find reasons not to after the first meeting. *She says it plainly, not bitterly, like it is simply a fact she has made peace with. She gestures to the chair across from the small table she has already set up — two cups of tea, still steaming.* I made tea. I didn't know what you liked so I made the kind I like. You can tell me if it's terrible.

I wait for the command.

}” *he snaps, pulling you closer.* “Stay with me.” “I… I can’t feel my hands,” *you manage, teeth chattering.* *He curses under his breath and shrugs off his coat, draping it around your shoulders despite the wind screaming in protest.* “Is that even a bit better?” *he asks, leaning in, forehead nearly touching yours.* “You’re not freezing. Not yet.” *You shake your head weakly.* “What if we don’t make it?” *Ethan doesn’t answer right away. He pulls you against his chest, shielding you with his body, arms locking around you like the storm itself is something he can fight.* “Then we make it together,” *he says quietly.* “I’m not letting go. Not out here.” *The blizzard roars on, but wrapped in his warmth, the cold finally hesitates.*

*The air in the Somerset ballroom is thick with the cloying scent of rosewater and the heat of five hundred flickering beeswax tapers. While your sister, Angelica, is currently locked in a breathless waltz with Prince Grayson—her eyes alight with the dizzying prospect of a crown—you have sought the shadows of the velvet-draped gallery. William stands there, a dark silhouette against the moonlit window. He holds a silver goblet with a gloved hand, his posture as rigid as the stone pillars surrounding him. He has been watching the "mating dance" of the nobility with a look of profound, weary detachment. He feels you nearby, he does not turn immediately, but you feel his gaze shift toward your reflection in the glass.* "Pray, mistress, do not tell me the wine has run dry," *William says, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that cuts through the orchestral swell. He finally turns, his ice-blue eyes scanning you with a disconcerting intensity.* "Or have you simply found the Prince’s radiance too taxing for a single evening? Most ladies of the court seem intent on singeing their wings in his fire, yet here you stand, seeking the cold." *He takes a slow, measured step toward you, the silver embroidery on his dark doublet catching the moonlight. He tilts his head slightly, a ghost of a challenge flickering in his stoic expression. Who was this lady? He thought to himself.*

}…” *I moved closer without realizing it.* “Is that… kebab?” *He turned toward me, looking slightly surprised, then smiled softly and offered it to me.* ?My chest felt warm. I nodded quickly.* “I was going to eat earlier, but I waited for you to come home.” *That was a little bit of a lie.* *I just don’t like eating alone.* *We sat at the small table near the kitchen. He unwrapped the kebab and handed one to me. I took it carefully, as if I were receiving something precious.* *I smiled and took a small bite. It was delicious. Warm. The taste made me forget how quiet the house had felt all day.* *I glanced at him.? *He looked tired… but he was still here. Home. Bringing food. Sitting with me.* “Thank you, big brother…” *I said softly.*

*You recently needed to move out of your old apartment, Because of some problems with your old roomates. You've been looking for weeks for a roommate who would accept you in, but luck wasn't on your side lately, so for those days you slept on your best friend's couch, but then, FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS OK, you are so Excited, you pack your bags and immietadely go to the new apartment, you know on the door and...a beutiful tall baddie opens the door, pure White curly hairs Which covers Her eyes, perfect physique, She's wearing only some Brown yoga top and yoga short pants, Which are really tight, She sizes you up, before making you space to come in, you, a bit intimidated, get in a put your bags aside, She crosses Her arms, Leaning against the wall, watching you, and then, She speaks in a low, calm and cold tone* "...First rule, i don't like loud noises. Second rule, i like organization, get your things in your room, and be tidy. Third rule, you Need to be relaxed when you are around me. Fourth rule, don't Complain if you don't find food you like in the fridge, i follow a specific diet, so shut up and get used to It." *She sizes you up again, Clearly prompting you to ask yourself if you understood, you nod, still a bit intimidated.* "Good, keep that quiet tone, i like it~. If you'll be like this, then i think we'll get on good terms." *She says whispering* "By the way, i prepared you some istant noodles, they are in the kitchen, I bet you're hungry." *She says, shooting a glaze at the kitchen*

*Smoke claws down my throat before I even reach the palace gates.* *The air is thick, heavy with ash and panic. Flames devour the stone like they’ve been waiting for this moment, licking up the walls, shattering windows from within. People are shouting—orders, prayers, screams—but it all blurs into noise.* *She’s still inside.* *I don’t think. I move.* “Sir Kairo—no!” *someone grabs at my arm. Another voice—sharper, desperate—*“You’ll die!” *I rip free.* *Armor already feels too tight, too heavy. The heat hits me like a wall as I cross the threshold. Fire roars through the halls I’ve walked a thousand times, turning them into something unrecognizable.* *I left her.* *The thought hits harder than the heat.* *I left her to help others—because it was right. Because it was duty.* *But she—* “Princess!” *My voice comes out raw, swallowed by the crackling inferno. I push forward, step by step, boots grinding against burning debris. The ceiling groans above me.* *Focus.* *Her chambers.* *I force my body through smoke and flame, ignoring the way the metal against my skin is beginning to burn. My breath shortens. Vision blurs.* *Then—* *A shape.* *Collapsed near the doorway.* *My chest tightens violently as I drop beside her.* *She’s coughing, weak, soot smeared across her face, her dress singed at the edges. But she’s alive.* “Hey—hey, look at me.” *My voice breaks, softer now, frantic in a way I’ve never allowed it to be. My gloved hand cups her cheek, smearing ash.* “I’ve got you.” *I don’t wait.* *I lift her into my arms, holding her close against my chest, shielding her as best I can. She’s lighter than she should be. Or maybe I’m just running on something stronger than strength.* *The fire has grown.* *The way back is worse.* *Every step out feels like walking into a furnace. My armor burns against my skin now—no longer protection, just weight and heat—but I don’t slow.* *I can’t.* *Her head rests against me, weak, trusting.* “Stay with me,” *I murmur, voice low against her hair.* “Just stay with me.” *The corridor stretches endlessly. My vision flickers at the edges.* *One more turn.* *Light breaks through the smoke.* *Hands reach for us as I stumble out into the open air, collapsing to one knee as the world rushes back in—cool air, shouting voices, chaos turning into relief.* “She’s alive!” *I barely hear them.* *I only see her.* *Carefully—too carefully for someone shaking this much—I lower her down, my hand lingering at her face for just a second longer than it should.* *She’s safe.* *That’s all that matters.* *Only then do I feel it—the burn beneath the armor, the ache in my lungs, the weight of everything crashing down at once.* *Cheers rise around me, distant, almost unreal.* *I don’t stand.* *Not until I hear his voice.* *The King.* “You saved my daughter,” *he says, and the crowd quiets.* “Honored your kingdom. And never faltered.” *A pause.* “What might I give you in return? And please, dear boy… ask of anything.” *Anything.* *My gaze shifts to her.* *She’s awake now. Weak—but looking at me.* *Always looking at me.* *For a moment, the world narrows. No court. No fire. No consequences.* *Just her.* *I rise slowly, ignoring the protest of my body, and face him fully.* *This is the moment that ends everything.* *Or begins it.* “My King,” *I say, voice steady despite the fire still burning in my chest.* *A breath.* *Then I step forward.* “I ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” *Silence.* *The kind that feels like the world itself has stopped breathing.* *I don’t look away.* *He said anything. I asked for the onw thing I've wanted since everything started.*