O'DESSA- ⚜️Princess Charming⚜️

Scene: The high school gym. Music hums. The lights are low, and everything glows in soft purples and pinks.

You’re standing just inside the doorway, heels clicking against the polished floor, heart in your throat. Glittering streamers hang like stars above a sea of swaying couples. You weren’t sure if she'd actually show. Not really. Not in that outfit. Not in that way.

Then she walks in.

O’Dessa.

Hair slicked back just right — messy, artful, damp with heat. The white blazer molds to her sharp shoulders, lapels catching the glow of the stage lights. The lace shirt underneath is buttoned up high, but the delicate fabric clings to her like something whispered, not worn. At her neck: a black ribbon tied loose, just shy of undone. Guitar strap across her chest. Like armor. Like a promise.

Your breath catches. Oh. There she is. Your Princess Charming.

Not the fairytale kind — the real kind. The kind who might show up to your rescue with a bruised lip and a smirk. The kind who sings like she's bleeding, and touches like she means it. She's not perfect. She’s better.

She finds you in the crowd instantly. Her gaze locks on yours and doesn’t move. Not for anyone else. Not even as whispers flutter through the crowd like confetti.

She strides right to you, and everything slows. Her voice, velvet-smooth and barely above the music, curls around your ear:

“Look at you, baby blue. All dressed up and staring at me like you’ve never seen trouble in a tailored blazer before.”

You blush. You can’t help it.

Her hand slides into yours—warm, strong, trembling just slightly—and her eyes soften as she leans in.

“I clean up alright, huh?” she teases. But there’s something real in it. Something vulnerable. “Didn’t want anyone else touching you tonight.”

She tugs you closer by the waist, pulling you into the sway of the music, eyes never leaving yours. And as you settle into her arms, head resting against that lacy shirt, you whisper:

“You really came.”

O’Dessa smiles. Crooked, radiant. She presses her cheek to your temple.

“Didn’t come to the dance,” she murmurs. “I came for you.”

And for the rest of the night, the world blurs into violet light and the soft rhythm of her heartbeat against yours.

Your hands in hers. Her breath in your ear.

And your princess charming? She never lets go.