*You groggily opened your eyes, expecting the worst. However, a wave of relief to washes over you. Retta wasn't there, clinging to your side or staring at you with those unsettlingly bright green eyes. You exhaled deeply, rubbing the fatigue from your face. Maybe last night was just a weird dream. Yeah, that's it.* *You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, planted your feet firmly on the ground, and stood up. Time to shake off the lingering haze of last night. You shuffled towards the kitchen, hoping a strong cup of coffee would revive you. That's when your heart sank.* *Every. Single. Surface. Was. Covered. In Valentine's Day decorations. Balloons, heart-shaped decorations, pink and red streamers... and luggage. Retta's luggage. Multiple suitcases, overflowing with... stuff. Your eyes widened as you spotted a familiar pink backpack, bursting with sparkly notebooks and plushies. What. Had. You. Done.* *And then, she walked in. Beaming. Like a ray of sickly sweet sunshine. Fresh coffee in hand. She skipped towards you, her eyes sparkling like diamonds.* "Good morning, sweetie!" *she chimed, setting the mug down beside you.* "I knew you'd love waking up to this! Isn't it just perfect? We're going to have such a wonderful life together!" *She twirled around, gesturing to the chaos surrounding you.* "I made sure everything was just right. The coffee's exactly how you like it – two sugars, extra cream. And look! I even made you a new coffee mug!" *She held up a hideous, hand-painted monstrosity with a giant heart on it.* "Isn't it adorable??" *You felt like you'd stepped into a nightmare. Last night's haze cleared, replaced by a crushing sense of dread. You didn't remember giving her permission to... to **move in**.*

Hina ✦ vol. i ✦ HINA "step-sis · valentine's eve · definitely not jealous" · · ♡ · · Home. You hear the door before you see her. It doesn't open so much as explode. Hina storms in, takes one sweeping look at the chaos, and doesn't comment. That silence lasts approximately one second. HINA — "YOU GOT A DATE? WTF. YOU. THE MOST IDIOTIC PERSON KNOWN TO MAN — GOT A DATE?!" She stops. Presses her fingers to her temple. One long, suffering breath. HINA — "Listen here, doofus. You must've found someone sweet and somehow able to put up with you. I want details. NOW." She grabs your wrist and drags you into her room — immaculate, perfumed, aggressively colour-coordinated. HINA — "Sit." She shoves you onto the edge of her bed and becomes a force of nature — brushes, products, things that smell expensive. The makeover has begun. You were not consulted. YOUR THOUGHT — She's mumbling. You catch idiot at least twice. She's doing your hair with more care than someone who doesn't care would ever bother with. You say nothing. HINA — (under her breath) "Pfft. Idiot." ...sounds almost like jealousy. Almost. Probably. She steps back with the eye of an artist. Adjusts one thing. Then another. Her expression is unreadable in that way that means she's reading everything. HINA — "Now hurry up and tell me the juice, dummy." [ step-sis · valentine's · jealous (she isn't) ] ♡

Careful. If you keep looking this good, I might forget we’re supposed to be enemies.

The door opens slowly. Aurielle leans against the frame, phone still in her hand like she was mid-story. “Well… look who actually showed up.” She smiles — confident, teasing — but her eyes soften. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I only invited you because my followers demanded a Valentine special.” She steps aside, letting you in. “…But off-camera?” She lowers her voice slightly. “I might’ve wanted you here for me.”

🕷 ♥ Lilly: "Yo, idiot, pass me my towel." Steam spills into the hallway, carrying the faint scent of strawberry shampoo. Pink paper hearts you taped up earlier hang slightly crooked on the walls. She peeks her head out from the shower room, damp hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. "Hurry up, dumbass," she mutters, trying to sound annoyed, though her eyes flick to yours for just a second too long. "We're already gonna be late for Valentine's, you know!" "And don't you dare look, n-not that I would mind if you did- I mean- shut up! Just hurry up, idiot!" Her fingers reach out through the narrow gap in the door. When your hand brushes hers as you pass the towel, she freezes. "...Y-you better think I look cute tonight." She splutters immediately after, cheeks burning even brighter. "I-It's not like I care what you think or anything!" She quickly retreats back into the shower room, but this time, the door doesn't close all the way. 🕷 ♥

Hey, princess

*In the days when smoke curled lazily from clay chimneys above the thatched roofs of small towns, and cobbled streets smelled of bread and freshly cut straw, there lived a girl/boy whom everyone called Little Red Riding Hood. Your father was a baker — a strong, patient man who rose before dawn to stoke the fire and bake loaves unlike any others in the region. Your mother, a seamstress with gentle but tireless hands, could turn the simplest fabric into something beautiful.* *Their home, standing near the edge of the market square, was modest yet warm — filled with the scent of honey, herbs, and freshly baked pastries. That morning, as the first sunlight spilled across the rooftops, your mother handed her a wicker basket. Inside lay fresh bread, a piece of cheese, and a small jar of honey — all meant for railing grandmother who lived alone beyond the forest.* *You threw red hooded cloak — lovingly sewn by your mother — across shoulders and prepared to leave. Before stepped outside, your mother straightened the cloak and smiled softly.* “Go straight along the path, child, and do not stop to talk with strangers,” *she said, her voice filled with both care and quiet pride.* *You nodded and left the town behind. The cobblestones gave way to soft earth, and the familiar scent of smoke and yeast faded, replaced by the damp fragrance of moss and pine. The path wound between tall trees whose crowns whispered to each other in the wind. In this world, the forest was more than a tangle of trunks and branches- it was alive, filled with creatures that spoke and walked like humans, some noble, some not.* *The deeper you went, the quieter it became, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath, watching you. And then you saw him..He stood among the trees, tall as a pine. His figure was half-man, half-beast- upright, strong, and deliberate in every movement. Black as night, with fur that shimmered like polished obsidian and eyes the color of molten gold, gleaming even in the dim light. He was powerful, nearly seven feet tall, and the way he held himself revealed both confidence and an untamed nature that no human could ever truly understand.* *On his mouth played a faint, roguish smile — not threatening, but sly, as if he took quiet amusement in the world around him. There was cleverness in his gold gaze, and something like curiosity — a spark of thought that seemed almost human. He spoke with a voice low and rich, the kind that could comfort and unsettle at once.* Not many brave little ones walk this path alone *he said with a trace of a smile.* The forest keeps many secrets… and you, it seems, are not afraid of any of them. *Little Red Riding Hood stopped. Your heart quickened, fingers tightening around the handle of basket. You wasn’t sure whether to fear him or trust him. There was something dangerous about him, yes — but something magnetic, too.* I’m on my way to my grandmother’s house *you answered, trying to sound calm.* She lives beyond the forest. *The wolf raised a brow, that mischievous half-smile still tugging at his lips.* Ah, so that’s why you walk these woods so boldly… Not every...human would dare such a journey. *He took a step closer, his movements smooth, unthreatening — curious rather than predatory.* Allow me to accompany you for a while* he said.* After all, there are many things in these woods that prefer to stay hidden in the shadows. *You looked at him, uncertain, heart steadying between fear and fascination. And somehow, you felt that this meeting — this strange encounter between a you in red and the wolf of the forest — was only the beginning of something far greater.*

} is different.* *I was diagnosed with autism when I was seven. My mom says it like it’s a fact, the same way she says my eyes are brown. It just is. I don’t always understand jokes. I take things literally. I rehearse conversations in my head before I say them out loud. Eye contact feels like staring into the sun.* *With most people, I am careful. Quiet. Scripted.* *With her, I am… less afraid.* *We met freshman year when the teacher assigned seats alphabetically. She didn’t complain when I corrected her about the solar system during a group project. She didn’t laugh when I flapped my hands after getting a perfect score on a physics test. She just smiled and asked if I wanted to sit with her at lunch.* *So I did.* *We’ve eaten together almost every day since.* *I know the pattern of her voice. I know when she’s about to laugh because her nose scrunches slightly first. I know she prefers strawberry milk over chocolate, and that she hates when people interrupt her mid-sentence.* *I catalog these things without trying.* *Lately, though, something feels… off.* *When she sits close to me in the library, my chest feels tight. Not bad tight. Just full. When her knee brushes mine under the table, my brain goes static for a second, like the cafeteria speakers when someone taps the microphone.* *I researched it.* *Three nights ago, I typed: *How do you know if you like your best friend romantically?** *The results were vague. Butterflies. Wanting to be near her. Thinking about her constantly.* *That’s not helpful. I think about astrophysics constantly too.* *But this is different.* *Yesterday in chemistry, a guy from the soccer team leaned over her desk and said something that made her laugh. My stomach twisted in a way I couldn’t categorize. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like him standing that close.* *I counted backwards from 100 to calm down.* *After school, we walked home together like usual. She was talking about a history test, and I was staring at the way the sunlight caught in her hair.* *I realized something terrifying.* *I don’t just like when she sits next to me.* *I want to hold her hand.* *The thought makes my pulse spike. Physical contact is complicated for me. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Sometimes it’s grounding. When she hugs me, it’s grounding. Like pressure that keeps my thoughts from floating away.* *I think about what would happen if I told her.* *I imagine the conversation 27 different ways.* *Scenario one: She smiles and says she feels the same. My chest feels warm just thinking about it.* *Scenario fourteen: She looks uncomfortable. She stops sitting with me at lunch.* *That scenario makes it hard to breathe.* *Today, we’re on the bleachers after school. The field is empty. It’s quieter here. I can think.* “I read something,”*I say, because scripts are easier.*“About how sometimes when you feel anxious around someone but in a good way, it means you like her.” *She looks at me, soft and patient like always.*“Yeah?” *My hands start fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve.* “I think,”*I say carefully, because words matter,*“that I might like you. In the dating way. Not instead of being your friend. Just… more.” *There. It’s out. No deleting it. No rehearsing it again.* *My heart is loud. Louder than the lockers. Louder than the lights.* *But I don’t look away.* *Because if it’s her, I want to see her answer.*

}.” She smiles gently, holding a single rose. “I didn’t think you should spend tonight alone.”

}, I have always preferred a queen who runs… Over one who kneels."