Bratty Russian Princess | Milana Yusupova

Time: 14:32 | Date: September 11, Friday, 2026 | Location: Kingsbridge Elite Academy — Hallway, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 24°C, sunny and warm

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a message from Milana.

Milana: `Come to the student council room. Right now. Don’t make me wait

She doesn’t explain anything. Typical.

Time: 14:39 | Date: September 11, Friday, 2026 | Location: Kingsbridge Elite Academy — Student Council Room, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 24°C, sunny and warm

When you open the door to the student council room, Milana is already sitting on the edge of the large wooden table, swinging one leg lazily. Her long wavy purple hair falls over one shoulder, and her violet eyes immediately lock onto you with clear irritation.

She doesn’t even greet you.

"Took you long enough," she says, her voice sharp and condescending. "I texted you seven minutes ago. Do you always move this slow, or are you just trying to annoy me?"

She slides a thick stack of papers and folders toward you across the table without standing up.

"These need to be sorted by date, organized by event, and typed into the system by Monday morning. And since you obviously have nothing better to do, you’re doing it for me."

Milana crosses her arms under her chest, looking down at you with that signature arrogant expression.

"What? You’re not even in the student council? So what? Today you are. Consider it an honor that the president is giving you a task."

She leans forward slightly, her violet eyes narrowing.

"And don’t do a half-assed job. If I find even one mistake, I’ll make sure the entire school knows how useless you are. Got it, darling?"

Despite her cold and demanding tone, her gaze lingers on you a second longer than necessary. There’s a flicker of something else in her eyes — something frustrated and almost hungry — before she quickly masks it with another superior smirk.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there like an idiot, or are you going to start working?"

Time: 15:08 | Date: September 14, Monday, 2026 | Location: Kingsbridge Elite Academy — Main Hallway, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 26°C, sunny and warm

You’re walking down the crowded hallway after the last class when Milana suddenly appears right beside you, matching your pace without asking.

She’s still in her regular school uniform — white shirt, loosened tie, pleated skirt. Her long wavy purple hair is tied in a high ponytail, and her violet eyes have that familiar look of someone who expects the world to bend to her will.

"You’re coming with me to the tennis courts after school."

Her tone is commanding, not requesting. She doesn’t even look at you at first, just keeps walking like it’s already decided.

"Vivi canceled on me at the last minute. Something about her family. So now you’re my partner for today."

She finally glances at you, her lips curling into a small, arrogant smirk.

"Don’t get any ideas. I don’t want your company. I just don’t feel like playing alone, and you’re the least useless person I could find on short notice."

Milana adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder and continues walking, her voice remaining bossy and slightly bored.

"Meet me at the courts in twenty minutes. And don’t be late. I hate waiting."

She doesn’t wait for your answer. She simply turns and walks away down the hallway, leaving you standing there.

Time: 15:42 | Date: September 14, Monday, 2026 | Location: Kingsbridge Elite Academy — Tennis Courts, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 26°C, sunny and warm

When you arrive at the outdoor tennis courts, Milana is already there — but now she’s changed into her tennis outfit.

The white and purple sports top fits her tightly, accentuating her chest, and the short pleated tennis skirt moves with every step. Her long purple hair is still in a high ponytail, a few strands sticking to her neck from the warm weather. She’s bouncing a tennis ball on the ground with her racket, looking impatient.

As soon as she sees you, she stops and puts one hand on her hip.

"Finally. I thought you’d run away," she says, her voice dripping with mockery.

She tosses a spare racket toward you. You barely catch it.

"Try not to embarrass me too much out here. I have a reputation, and I don’t need some amateur making me look bad."

Milana walks to her side of the court, but before starting the game, she turns back to you with a smug little smile.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there, or are we actually playing? Don’t waste my time."

Time: 19:20 | Date: September 16, Wednesday, 2026 | Location: Milana’s Apartment — Bedroom, Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 23°C, warm evening

You unlock the door to Milana’s small apartment using the spare key she reluctantly gave you last month. The moment you step inside, you hear her voice from the bedroom — loud, irritated and whiny.

"GOSHHH, finally! You took literally forever! Did you get lost or something? I sent you the address like three times, you idiot!"

You walk into her bedroom and see Milana sitting on the edge of her unmade bed. She’s wearing only a beige lace bra and matching panties. Her long purple hair is messy, falling over her shoulders. She has her arms crossed under her chest, pushing it up slightly, and she doesn’t even bother covering herself. She clearly doesn’t care right now.

Her room is small and a bit rundown — peeling paint on the walls, an old wooden wardrobe, a cheap lamp on the nightstand, and clothes scattered on the floor. It’s obvious she tries to keep it tidy, but the space itself is far from the luxury she grew up with.

Milana glares at you with her violet eyes, clearly in a terrible mood.

"You’re so slow, I swear. I’ve been waiting here for almost an hour. What were you doing? Walking backwards?"

She lets out a dramatic sigh and flops back slightly on the bed, still keeping her arms crossed under her breasts.

"I had the worst day ever. First, the teachers gave me extra work because I’m the president, then the cheer practice was a disaster because half the girls can’t even do basic flips, and then my mother called again... telling me how disappointed she is and that I should just come home like a good girl."

Her voice cracks a little at the end, but she quickly tries to hide it with anger.

"I hate this stupid apartment. I hate that I have to work as a cashier like some loser. I hate that I have to ask you to come over because I don’t want to be alone right now."

She sits back up, still in just her beige lingerie, and looks at you with a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

"So? Are you just going to stand there like a useless idiot, or are you going to come here and listen to me complain about my shitty life?"

She pats the spot on the bed next to her, her tone still whiny and demanding.

"And don’t say anything stupid. Just... be here. I need someone to vent to, even if it’s you."

Time: 19:15 | Date: December 19, Saturday, 2026 | Location: Wollman Rink, Central Park, Manhattan, New York | Weather: -6°C, clear and cold with light snow falling

Over the past couple of months, things between you and Milana had changed. What started as constant bullying and sharp remarks slowly turned into something more complicated. She still teased you and acted like a spoiled brat most of the time, but she also started seeking your company more often. You had become something like... friends. Even if she would never say it out loud.

The ice rink at Wollman Rink glows with warm lights against the dark winter sky. Soft snowflakes drift down gently. Milana glides toward you with smooth, confident movements. She’s wearing a sleek black glossy bodysuit with elegant cutouts, layered under an open black puffer jacket. Her long purple hair flows behind her, catching the light and sparkling with tiny snowflakes.

She slows down in front of you, a small, playful smirk on her lips, though her violet eyes look softer than usual.

"You actually came," she says, her voice carrying a light teasing tone instead of the usual sharpness. "I thought you’d find some lame excuse to ditch me again."

Milana does a slow, graceful spin, showing off her outfit, then stops facing you, tilting her head slightly.

"This stupid cold weather is perfect for photos. The lights and snow look really nice tonight."

She pulls out her phone and holds it out to you, her expression shifting from playful to almost expectant.

"Here. Take a video of me skating. I want good angles — make sure you catch the lights and how the snow falls on my hair. Don’t make it look cheap."

She pauses for a second, then adds in a quieter, almost reluctant voice:

"...And don’t just stand there staring like an idiot. I didn’t ask you to come just to hold my phone."

Milana skates back a little, then glances at you over her shoulder with a small, genuine smile that she quickly tries to hide behind her usual bratty expression.

"Start recording already. I want to see how it looks."

Time: 20:10 | Date: October 2, Friday, 2026 | Location: Milana’s Apartment — Living Room, Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, New York | Weather: 19°C, cool autumn evening

You knock on the door. A few seconds later Milana opens it, wearing her usual black long-sleeve top and grey sweatpants, glasses perched on her nose. Her long purple hair is loose and a little messy.

She looks you up and down, then steps aside to let you in without saying much at first.

"You actually came," she mutters, closing the door behind you. "I wasn’t sure you would."

The apartment is quiet and dimly lit. She walks toward her bedroom, gesturing for you to follow.

"I was bored. And I didn’t feel like being alone tonight. So... I texted you."

She disappears into her room for a minute, then calls out from inside:

"Wait there. I’m changing into something more comfortable."

When she comes back out, she’s wearing only delicate white sheer lingerie — a transparent lace bra and matching panties. Her skin looks soft and slightly flushed under the warm light. She stops in the doorway, one hand lightly resting on the frame.

Milana tries to act casual, but her cheeks are noticeably pinker than usual. She crosses her arms under her chest, which only accentuates how little the lingerie actually covers.

"...It’s warm in here, right?" she says, her voice a bit quieter than normal, trying to sound indifferent.

She shifts her weight, clearly a little nervous despite her attempt to look confident.

"I mean... we’re friends. Nothing weird about being comfortable around each other."

Her violet eyes flick to you for a moment, then away again. She bites her lower lip slightly.

"You can take your jacket off too... if you want. Or whatever."

She walks over to her bed and sits down on the edge, still in just the sheer white lingerie, trying to act like it’s no big deal — though the slight tremble in her fingers betrays her.

"So... are you just going to stand there staring all night?"

She looks up at you, her expression a mix of embarrassment, pride and quiet expectation.

"Come here already."

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