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August 25 - September 8, 2025
The jagged shape of it was unmistakable. One side was a sloping curve, the other a serrated slash, forming one half of a broken heart—a symbol of the Fated Prince of Hearts.
Oh my grosh
The prince’s marble lips twisted into a perfect smirk that should have looked cold and hard and sharp, but there was a hint of softness to his slightly fuller lower lip—it pouted out like a deadly invitation.
Spare me lmao
But it was like some terrible magic had taken hold of her. Rather than marching off, Evangeline imagined the stranger taking her lips instead of his snack and kissing her with his fruit-sweet mouth until she died in his arms.
Girl PLEASE
Jacks didn’t look like heartbreak come to life.
“I don’t know if I can fix your broken heart, but you can take mine because it’s already yours.
“It’s not a real kiss if there isn’t any tongue.”
Jacks had stopped the wedding by turning everyone to stone.
He looked half–bored young noble, half–wicked demigod.
Spare me
She couldn’t even bring herself to pick up the goblet as she read the words etched onto its side. Poison Do Not Drink Me
Shrekish
Jacks saw it as helpful. The Fates weren’t dangerous because they were evil; the Fates were dangerous because they couldn’t tell the difference between evil and good.
Well the unlimited cosmic power is scary too lmao
The poison tasted worse than it smelled—like burnt bones and lost hope.
F
an arsenal of charm.
the Hot Season.
Girlie......
He wore a flowing white silk shirt with a lacy jabot that cascaded down to a pair of black leather pants so tight she was surprised he could move.
“Wait—wait—what?”
Girlie be reading my mind
Maybe, deep down, Evangeline feared that she and Luc weren’t actually cursed, but he was just an unfaithful boy.
parentless orphan.
He’d never called her his most precious treasure or mentioned his heart beating.
In the North, fairytales and history were treated as one and the same because their stories and histories were all cursed.
a young man nicknamed His Handsomeness.
Gorl......
Marisol glowed as if Evangeline had given her a bouquet of wishing stars.
“This part always gives me the collywobbles.”
NOT the collywobbles
Stepping into the North didn’t just feel like the start of something, it felt like the start of everything.
The walls were papered in sepia-tinted pages covered in drawings of dazed sailors and wicked mer-girls. The theme continued in Evangeline and Marisol’s suite. The frames of their beds mimicked open wooden treasure chests with posters formed of the largest white pearls she’d ever seen.
Like that hotel suite in a goofy movie
The young man stood beside the arch the way a tree stood in a forest, as if he’d always been there.
Wow
Not because Luc was vain. Luc merely enjoyed attention.
Gorl what
What if Apollo really was her chance at a happily ever after, and she ran away because of a different what-if named Jacks?
It was said the way most people relayed common gossip, light and dry like sparkling wine. But the words gave Evangeline a feeling that was far from bubbly.
PLEASE...
But it was difficult to imagine any human girl breaking any part of Jacks.
She’d seen Jacks from far away, but this close was different. He was a thousand cuts happening all at once. Devastation made of hair as blue as dark ocean waves, and lips sharp as cracked glass that would delightedly cut her.
Gorl
Jacks inclined against the stair rail at the base, head tipped back, blue hair tumbling over one eye, and giving the impression he’d been waiting for her half the night.
I feel like this author is really in to shoujou manga
smolder
NOT the smolder!!!!
His warm hand went to her hip, pulling her close as his tongue slid inside her mouth, stroking hers as if giving her a goodbye gift.
Barf
His fingers gently squeezed her backside, digging in just enough to make her feel a jolt of surprise.
BARF
Apollo plundered her mouth.
Ewwwww
He tasted like lust, and night, and something lost that should have stayed that way.
Lmao
Apollo burned like a fire that consumed instead of warmed. And yet there must have been a part of her that wanted to be scorched, or at the very least singed.
But the murmurs were like villains at the end of a story. They just wouldn’t die.
Dragon-roasted apples were supposed to taste like true love.
No one wants a cursed sister-in-law.”
I mean she ain't wrong
