#📖 ⟶ fic.

[sematarygirls]

                      Salt &&. Secrets (SMAU.ᐟ)

summary: what started as a fun hobby quickly became more when your anonymous gossip blog unexpectedly began gaining traction after "kook king" rafe cameron discovered your writings about him and publicly bashed you, vowing to discover your identity.

       NAV ! Part Two. Part Three. Part Four.

notes .ᐟ kind of a lot going on in this one, but i did leave yall hanging for a couple days. thank you to everyone who informed me that browser allows you to add more than 10 pics 🙏 you're a lifesaver frfr. also everyone ignore how sometimes the emojis are android and sometimes they're ios...

taglist .ᐟ @kyranheyward @theeternaloptimistt @lovinqbella @glitterybombshell @thebumbqueen @zyafics @psychicnatural @fortheloveofwbb @a-lovers-card @rafesangelita @colbysbrocks @shincidios @memoirofasparklemuff1n @drwstarkeys @k-k0129 @lilithblackkk @hewwokitti @hwaaholic @loveu-always @ietss @cl4uus @blckbrrybasket @vanessa-rafesgirl

                                ୭ৎ

[chappellroansdreamgirl]

officer!els<3

author's note - meow i love this woman.

content warnings - black!coded!reader ig????, fluff, els i love u ellie williams pls handcuff me to ur bed and police-brutalize me! , text msgs from reader that are very me-coded! , mostly just based off every grumpy but cool cop i've seen in media, lots of notes from me i'm going insane I NEED HER!!!!! , there's a white man in a pic i put... you have been warned, smut/suggestive shit at the end!

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- def wanted to be a cop when she was a kid and then was a total fucking juvenile as a teen. (duh!)

- always loved the police officers who barely ever gave troubled kids a hard time. (this is coming from a troubled kid. acab all the way except for u guys. well, still acab, but y'all r cool!) would refuse to talk to anyone except her favorites. i fully believe that's one of the reasons she would go into this workforce.

- when she got approved to start training to be a cop, u were home with her favorite strand of weed and she gave u a look like, "🤨🤨" , "can't be doing that no more baby, i'm gonna be a cop." , "...stfu and take the first hit before you piss me off..." , she's wearing a SHIT-eating grin before she takes it. (don't ask me how she passes her drug-tests!) (probably gets jesse to do it or someone idk maybe joel if she's lucky!) (def not joel...)

- ADDING ONTO THIS!^^ : every single time you smoke when she can't she'll look so sad or just side-eye tf out of you... "really?" , "what do you want me to do ellie..." u stopped smoking around her when she couldn't...

- this woman is so intimidating but once those cop dogs come on the scene she's so cute<3 . she's so smiley and happy they love her AND SHE LOVES THEM. she definitely sent u a picture of her with the group of the babies and was like, "can we adopt them all pls i love them ):" . you guys adopted a rescue pup shortly after...

- whenever you're doing ANYTHING EVER she flashes her badge at you and says something so loser of her , "don't make me handcuff you..." or makes finger guns with the sounds and GOD I LOVE THIS WOMAN.

- speaking of badges, she always has her badge on her. ALWAYS. it is EMBARRASSING!

- when she got her first arrest she was so happy:3 . i FEEL like she took a picture with the fucker and everything and she looked so proud of herself. "good job baby now pls get to the station before that mf breaks out of those handcuffs he looks like he's gonna murder u..."

- this is a headcannon of mine (and canon so why am i saying hc maybe it's just bcs it's more in-depth in my head.) but she loves kids and whenever she sees a younger person at the station, she makes sure that they're ok and have everything they need.

- with that being said, she HATES the teens who don't have a valid reason to be such delinquents. lovable delinquents are her soft-spot but those... THOSE ONES😧.

- definitely is a kitten-saver-cop. hates getting the call but she responds every time.

- sends u this pic anytime u say something mildly threatening to her in text msgs:

suggestive/NSFW!

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- the day she got her uniform, you wanted to jump her bones. she came back home, poor girl was so tired and all you could think about is how good she looked in that shit.

- like i said... the badge is with her at all times... maybe this is too feral but i feel like she put IT in ur mouth and took a polaroid of it after u were done eating her out or SSAAAWWWWMMMMTHHHIIIIING. (pls let me wear ur badge baby i'm on my knees BEGGING YOU!)

- definitely joked about role-playing jailer/jailed and then it wasn't a joke anymore. y'all tried it once and couldn't stop laughing.

- has definitely used her handcuffs on u or vice versa. she gets so excited when u pull that shit out.

- ggggg...g-g-gu-....gggggggggguuuunnn ki-

- definitely has fucked u in the uniform. u two probs have had a quickie in the station bathroom on multiple occasions.

bonus round - police!els edit<3 :

[joontroverted]

best friend gojo who's here to help you with your pms!

pairing : gojo satoru x reader

word count : 2.2k

tags : reader has pms, groping, titty sucking, grinding, clit rubbing, gojo is heavily implied to be the bisexual loser who gets no bitches that he is, nanami mention (who do you think I am after all), a lot of back and forth between him and reader. if not smutty, ik you will find this funny 😁

obviously gojo satoru is more of an active person, he'd rather be outside than inside, but he'd lock himself in jail if that meant he could spend some time with you. that's why he's here, bursting in arms filled with sweet treats. you groan, sitting up, making grabby hands for the gummy bears and he snickers, squeezing your cheek.

"you're not funny, satoru," you mutter, adjusting yourself in bed again.

"but I do get it! once a month, you and I become extremely similar, united by a hunger for sweets!" he laughs, tossing another sweet in the air and catching it with his mouth.

"how the fuck hasn't shoko beat some sense into you to speak to women with more respect," you say, smacking him over the head with a pillow.

the time passes, too slowly for your liking. satoru, to his credit keeps himself busy, chattering on about something or the other. you're busy twisting around in bed for a better position to provide yourself some relief from the random cramps, and satoru cannot help it.

he cannot help himself from staring at you.

all this while, he had been yammering on about anything he could think of, trying to distract himself from you. but here you are, refusing to settle down in one place.

he didn't really know all of the biology of the entire cycle, but he knew enough to figure out that periods come a month away from the last. and if he didn't figure out himself, your bitching was enough for him to know that the time was here.

he had burst into your apartment all cheery to give you some good vibes (and give himself some good vibes), and had walked right into your room to see you looking drained and angry. like he could focus on that when you were just sitting there, looking delicious. 

sure, you look good all the time. of course you dress up when you go clubbing, curves all fitted in a snug dress, hair and face done to the t. but now… god. the heat had made you forgo the usual hoodie or baggy shirt you'd pull on and you had instead worn an old tank top with a pair of booty shorts which you had announced you only put on because you heard him come in.

like damn who asked you to do that, but whatever makes you comfortable.

but.

your tits. your tits. your tits. your tits had swollen up, as they do every period, and they were trapped and straining against the tank top you had thrown on, which was obviously not built for the extra curve of them. and your nipples, fuck. they poked through the material, hard, prominent and enticing.

he sneaks another peak at them, and his eyes nearly fall out of his fucking head when he saw that in all the time he was lost in his thoughts, mindlessly blabbering, you're grabbing them.

round, juicy tits were in your hands, and you are squeezing them periodically, with your eyes closed, breathing slowly. he watches the cleavage peeking out of your neckline, the bulge of your boobs bouncing up and down as and when you squeezed them, and the little sighs that you keep giving. he gulps.

before he knows it, more like a horny panic response, he reaches forward and jabs your thigh. 

“ow, what the fuck?” 

your eyes fly open and you stare at satoru, who himself has no clue what the fuck just happened. and your hands. your hands are still grabbing your fucking tits.

“you weren't listening to my story,” he manages, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.

you look like you could slap him. he would accept that. he wishes he could slap himself. 

“the fucking story about how you charmed your way to the front of the line at the coffee shop (not starbucks, fuck starbucks) once again? that fucking story?”

he just has to soldier through this. “yeah, that story! it's impressive to make your way past the old coffee addicted coots before their 9 to 5. if you want to massage your tits that bad do it on your own time!”

oh no. now he's said it. he’s brought attention to the the melons- elephant in the room.

“you are so useless,” you hiss. “you useless, useless man.” you are rising onto your knees and making your way closer to him. 

his eyes widen as he leans back. he chuckles nervously. “hey, i'm not entirely useless. i mean, i can take away your period, but just for -”

your hand shoots out and grabs his face. “if you pull that pathetic playboy shit on me right now i'm gonna slap you so hard you'll see stars,” you whisper.

satoru doesn't dare breathe, the space between you two is so small, lips almost touching, your breasts heaving. 

“how big?”

“wh- what?” he stutters. 

men and women and almost everyone who has laid eyes on him have tried to smooth talk him, and here he is, stuttering for you. 

“how big are they?”

oh! your tits! your fucking tits!

“big. bigger. bigger than usual. beautiful.” he muddles.

you huff, and seem to relax a bit. “good,” you say, pulling back a little. “now use them.”

with that, you turn away and plop down right in front of him, ass pushed against his crotch, and he can just hope that you don’t feel how hard he is right now. 

“what,” he says again, stupidly. yes, he always dreamed of this day. no, he didn't know what the fuck was going on.

“your hands satoru. use your hands! you keep comparing hand sizes with me, so use your big fucking hands to massage me!”

his hands. his stupid hands. okay.

“jeez just say that, you tease. and here i thought that i could feel up a girl after so long,” he jokes, the only way he knows how to get out of this situation, his face still hot. he grabs your shoulders and squeezes haphazardly, “juicy tits are rare to come by, after all i can only jump nanami so many times before he -” 

you grab his hands from your shoulders and pull them from the back around your body to your tits and squeeze. 

“oh,” you moan. “oh god, that's good.”

you're too deep in the sauce to notice that satoru's brain's been fried. his fingers just follow your directions, fingertips digging into the plush flesh, while you moan away. you tip your head back, eyes closed. he stares at you, the relief you’re in and how you're openly just using him for your own gain so unabashedly. your head hits his shoulder, causing your eyes to open slightly, making direct eye contact with him. that snaps him out of the daze that he's in.

“yeah?’ he mutters, his voice low, “you like that?”

“uh huh,” you nod, eyes not leaving his.

“all right cutie,” he chuckles, “i'll give you what you want.”

he finally goes with the flow and starts massaging. his big hands circle around each breast, gathering them entirely, and squeezing. his thumbs grind down on the neglected sides of your tits in circles, pulling out an unexpected moan from you.

“oh, that was good!”

“yeah? tell me more,” he says, steadily pushing them in and out.

“they were just- just so sore, toru. and yesterday i was out the entire day, and you know i had to wear a bra because i can't just not wear a bra! so they were so so restricted and tied up! so obviously i don't wear a bra when i'm at home -”

he knows. he's seen. 

“- but i don't know, the soreness just somehow feels different and worse now? because they so heavy and swollen, and they're hanging down, nothing to hold ‘em up!”

“aww, poor baby. why didn't you tell me earlier, huh?” he asks, working his way around your breasts.

“i don't know… my head's been so fuzzy, and my cramps are pretty bad too.”

“well that's okay cutie. i'll be there from now on, yeah?” he whispers into your ear. even beyond his own horniness, he really does want to help you. he didn't know he too could benefit from this though.

“yeah… thank - oh!” you shriek.

“what?”

“my nipples, oh, they're just too sore, toru! you need to be gentle!” you huff.

“‘m sorry baby, i'll be more careful, kay?” he mutters, looking down at your hard nipples, poking through the strained material of your tank top. since today has been full of miracles for him, he decides to push his luck. “can i… can i see ‘em?”

see them? you had definitely been lost in the bliss of the situation to see the realness of it. to see that the line between friendship and the light flirting that had been going on between you and satoru off late had been getting blurrier by the moment. you are too horny and in need of pain (and horny) relief to be thinking clearly. 

“nothing has to change, kay?’’ whispers satoru into your ear. “it's just you and me… and your tits between us, obviously” he giggles, nipping your ear a bit.

you look at him. things would change, you decide, looking at the slightly dizzy look he has, his eyes lidded, lip between his teeth. he's easier to read than he thinks he is. knowingly, you nod.

“atta girl,” he whispers, positively buzzing with excitement. he pushes himself off from behind you, instead laying you down on the pillow he was leaning on and coming to the front. “atta fucking girl.”

he slides down your body, tossing away the blanket that was loosely thrown over your legs, showing your thighs and your shorts hiked up enough for them to just look like underwear. he wants to settle his face onto them so badly, but that's a task for another day. for now, he looks up. 

you're looking down at him, your usually pissy face wide eyed, waiting for him to make his next move. he can't help but smirk at how cute you look, especially considering how much you gag or at least pretend to gag whenever he flirts with you. 

“i'm gonna lift this up, okay?” he tells you, holding the hem of your tank top.

you nod.

he pulls the hem up, up and over your tits, exposing them. the air hits your nipples, causing them to pebble even more. 

“fuck,” he whispers, his eyes wide and unblinking. “fuck baby, they're beautiful.”

“they're all swollen and… stuff,” you mutter, not knowing what to say.

he reaches forward and grabs the two mounds, one in each hand. 

“hi!” he says to the one in his right hand, jiggling it, “hi!” he says, now to the left one, jiggling that one too.

“satoru, you're such a dor- oh!”

he's opened his mouth and latched onto your right nipple, his wet, warm mouth, enveloping the smaller, tender bud. years of sucking on lollipops, and other things, makes him really, really good at this. eyes closed, he sucks and sucks, tongue circling the nipple and lapping it up. the pointy, sensitive bud is soothed by his constant suckling, causing you to moan out loud. that finally gets him to open his eyes and gaze back at you, pausing his administration. 

“i'm such a dork, huh?”

“shut up, god!”

“no god, just satoru gojo,” he says smarmily, nuzzling into your other boob, his hair tickling your neck, and under your chin.

you smack his head and he snickers. he goes back to suckling on your tits, plump lips leaving a trail of shiny gloss on your tits as he kisses them away. his hand continues to massage your other tit, and his other hand is, well… gripping your thigh.

“satoru,” you gasp, but he pays no heed. you push him away from you slightly. “satoru!”

that breaks him out of his daze, looking up at you. “did i do something?”

“could you um… could we grind?” you whisper.

“i can touch your pussy?” he ask hungrily, eyes gleaming.

“no!” you yelp, “not directly at least, we aren't there yet. but could i… grind on you for a bit?”

“fuck yeah you can!” he almost shouts. he pulls his leg up, his knee pushing against your clit.

with how sensitive and horny you are, that little move makes you moan, sending shivers up your body. and this bratty demon descends upon you immediately. he’s back to suckling on your tit, while the other hand massages your other one, gently pulling your nipple now and then. the sensitivity added with the gentle tugging creates a delicious sort of slightly painful yet soothing delight. your back arches and he most definitely cannot be comfortable in his position to satisfy you in every place all at once but he doesn't even pause for a moment, not letting up on his knee grinding on your clit. 

“satoru, satoru, slow down,” you gasp, the sensitivity knowing no bounds.

“no,” he replies “i don't get to see you in your panties even! i'm taking whatever i caaan,” he says in a sing song way, going back to his sucking.

“fuck you!” you gasp, writhing at this point.

he makes a sound that you cannot decipher, and moves his hand from your thigh to your clit, pinching it, eyes flitting up to see your reaction.

“fuck! fuck!” you exclaim, “more, toru, please!"

"yeah baby?" he asks, rubbing which circles around your clit, as if he would ever hesitate to give you anything, ever. he looks down at you, the state you're in. tank top pushed all the way up, uncovering your breasts, your soft tits jiggling up and down, as you grind down to meet his fingers. and as he looks down to his fingers, he sees the prominent lips of your pussy through your shorts as his fingers pressed unwavering against your little clit. one day. he is so close.

you are so close.

the heat in your body is building up, the pressure in your tummy rising. the band stretches tighter and tighter and satoru, that evil boy is only enjoying this. your period addled brain cannot ever string together an insult to throw his way, and instead you wantonly moan, motioning for him to come closer.

he leans in, an eyebrow quicker up.

"kiss," you whisper. "needta kiss you toru."

that takes him by surprise. 

"of- course you can, pretty girl," he whispers back, "been dreaming of this day".

with that, your lips meet, and it's immediately sloppy and desperate. tongue and gloss and indignance from both sides have your eyes rolled to the back of your head soon enough, so much so that you don't even realize that you've let go of the pressure that was building up, the band snapping.

with a gasp, you orgasm, shaking against satoru, who doesn't even seem to be phased. he's taken lapping and nipping against your lips as you come down from the high. your shaky fingers come to grasp his toned arms.

"hmm, how's that for some pms relief, huh?" he mutters against you, laying himself on you gingerly, making sure he isn't squishing your tits accidentally. "good job, both of you," he says, looking at your tits.

"and good job to you too, cutie," he says, looking up to you. he looks content and smug. "still think I'm a dork after all that?"

you pull a face, too sleepy and too, well whipped to insult him. he looks so sexy and adorable at the same time. proud and happy and eager all at once, his hair sticking up. you reach out to ruffle his hair and pull his ear. 

"you're not off of massaging duty though. I have a full night's sleep to catch up on after I clean myself up," you grunt, pushing yourself off of the bed to go to the bathroom. 

satoru follows you, like a puppy. 

you turn back to look at him. "are you gonna um… take care of yourself?"

"yeah, about that," he mutters, looking away, his hands hovering over the crotch of his sweatpants. "you don't have to worry about that- "

you yank his hands away from his crotch to reveal a dark stain down the front of it.

"you fucking dork!" you exclaim, laughing "you came just from that? I didn't even touch you!"

"yeah yeah, laugh all you want, after using me like that" he rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink. 

"when did you even come?"

he remains quiet.

"satoru," you egg on gleefully, almost forgetting all the pain you are in.

"there was a lot of precum when you first made me grab your tits… and then I came when I… when I saw em bare for the first time," he trails off.

you smack his shoulder. "you pathetic boy!" you laugh, "is that why you wouldn't let up on me"

"fuck off, you're such a meanie, and after I just gave you the best time ever!" he shouts, closing his ears, dashing past you to the bathroom. 

you follow him, and he's kicking off his sweatpants and pulling off his underwear. "don't look!" he shrieks, face red. 

"I'm not looking" you laugh, turning away and beginning to change too. "I just wanna get cleaned up and go back to sleep."

he grunts. "can I -"

"can you what?"

you see the tips of his ears are pink as he throws one of the many pairs of shorts he left at your place before. 

"can I suck on your right tit and jiggle your left one while you sleep and after that maybe put my head between your thi- "

"satoru!"

first smut fic yay!

comments, likes, reblogs and excited rambling tags are HIGHLY APPRECIATED! ❤

[lovelyhan]

— promise ring ⟢

no one would've guessed that the daughter of the town’s royal mage has a soft spot for the clumsiest fire elemental in the entire realm. but when the crown prince suddenly asks for your hand in marriage, you're forced to consider how you feel about a certain lee jung chan a lot more seriously.

★ FEATURING; chan x reader (ft. joshua x reader)

★ WORD COUNT; 21k words

★ TAGS; fantasy, royalty, childhood friends, mutual pining, love triangle, LOTS of drama, jeonghan being a menace, slow burn, angst, smut

★ NOTES; full disclosure that the plot to porn ratio is probably 80:20 so if you're simply looking for filth, i might not recommend this,,, but if you're down for 20k words of slow burn childhood friends to lovers topped with a juicy love triangle with our best boy chan, then this should be perfect for you <3

this is part of the secret garden, a svthub spring collab and the it's complicated series!

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, lots of making out, unprotected sex, touch starved chan and reader, first time, body worship, dom/sub undertones, lots of loving n endearing language during the act bc they've pined for each other long Enough, corruption kink if you squint but chan doesn't rly act on it

★ TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv

When you wake up, it’s to a strange feeling that something big is going to happen today.

You open your eyes to radiant sunlight filtering into the room through a crack in the curtains. The songbirds chirp happily by the windowsill as the rest of the town prepares to meet the day head-on. You lie in bed for a few minutes more, wondering what’s causing your chest to stir with misplaced anticipation. None of the annual festivals are drawing near and you’re certain you haven’t forgotten anyone’s birthdays either.

The sensation carries over as you head to the Academy with your father. Being from the family who founded the school several decades ago, he makes it a point to uphold the legacy your ancestors have left behind. That includes being at the school grounds an hour before any of the formal magic classes are scheduled to start, apparently.

Some students arrive much earlier than both of you, practicing spells and incantations in the small quadrangle as a means of preparing for their assessments later in the day. You giggle to yourself when you spot one of the older mages—a water elemental named Seungmin—fumble with his technique a little. 

Whether intentionally or not, his friend, Changbin takes the brunt of it—his robes rendered sopping wet from the water that Seungmin had (accidentally?) blasted him with. Though it doesn’t take much to undo the damage since Changbin is easily one of the best fire elementals in the Academy. With one snap of his fingers, his clothes are instantly dry. 

There are times (like this) when you envy the versatility of fire magic. But your father once told you that the gods grant each person with their respective elements for a reason. Instead of questioning their grace, you must show your gratitude by mastering what you've been blessed with instead. 

Yours comes in the form of nurturing all the plants and flora you set your eyes on. It’s for this reason that you still bother to come to the Academy even if you’ve already completed its scholastic program over three years ago. 

Despite your father constantly insisting for you to find a job that suits your talents in the royal capital, you prefer to impart your magical knowledge to the other students in your hometown instead. 

In fact, you don’t miss the wistful look in his eyes as you part ways for the day—him to the headmaster's office and you to the greenhouse at the edge of campus.

As you direct yourself to your destination, that feeling from earlier is yet to subside. Though much more muted now that you’re surrounded by fellow mages both students and faculty alike, it still remains. Quiet yet foreboding, as if telling you not to let your guard down just yet.

So lost in your own thoughts, you startle at the sound of someone calling your name in the distance. 

“Thank goodness you’re here!” One of the junior mages, Chaewon groans before bracing her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “He’s done it again!” 

A worried smile stretches across your lips. Life in your hometown is but a cycle of doing the same things over and over everyday. You don’t particularly mind the monotone of your routine—you’re at peace with it, honestly—but if Lee Jung Chan keeps accidentally burning someone’s precious plants, you’re going to have to make a few changes.

Chaewon leads you to the crime scene swiftly, explaining how your best friend set fire to the monsteras she personally grew from little seedlings with an irritated pout. While you’re completely sympathetic to Chaewon's plight—being her mentor and all—you can’t help the soft laugh that bubbles in your chest at the story.

“Why are you laughing?” she whines. “You’re not gonna let him get away with it just ‘cause you’ve been friends since you were babies, right? I worked so hard to enchant those plants with exotic flowers!” 

The two of you arrive before you can issue an apology on Chan’s behalf. Not that your best friend wouldn’t have already expressed his remorse directly to Chaewon the moment the monsteras caught his flames. 

You can easily spot the repentance in his posture as Chan stands awkwardly outside the greenhouse. From the looks of it, he’s currently being lectured by a school instructor who’s also named Chan, though most of the students and staff call him Chris for easier identification. 

You’re certain that Chris has it all under control. Though you’re not sure how, since he’s a non-elemental mage. You can’t exactly see him putting out a fire with musical magic no matter how good he is, but you’re grateful for his intervention still. 

“I know you only wanted to help out, but Chaewon isn’t the headmaster’s daughter. She’s yet to learn how to properly foolproof her handiwork against clumsy fire elementals.” Chris sighs deeply, arms crossed with a serious look before his eyes catch yours from the distance. “Speak of the devil…”

One would expect Chan to be mortified at the sight of you. After all, he did just inadvertently fuck up Chaewon’s project for her elemental assessment this month. As her mentor, you have all the right to rain hell on earth in the name of your precious student, but the thing about you is that you can never get mad at Lee Jung Chan—no matter how badly he messes up sometimes.

“Hi,” he squeaks with a small wave. “I swear I was just watering Chaewon’s plants ‘cause they were looking kind of…dry.  I do it for you all the time right? But then a cat snuck inside the greenhouse and knocked over a bunch of pots from the high shelves. It scared the living daylights out of me and—”

“Chan, have you at least apologized to her?” you sigh, patting your student’s head while she shoots Chan a hard glare from where she’s hiding behind you. 

“O-Of course!” he stammers, hands flying everywhere in an attempt to express his damage control better. “I even asked Chris where I can get seeds so I can replace them for her! You know I never leave any debts unpaid.”

It’s difficult to keep your mask of professionalism in place when he’s being so unintentionally adorable. Right now, you’re one of the Academy’s respected alumni as well as an instructor that many students look up to. You wouldn’t make the mistake of fawning over your best friend while he explains his not-so-innocence, but that doesn’t mean it makes keeping up appearances any easier for you .

“I told him that BamBam sells everything under the sun at his shop in the next town over,” Chris informs you with a tight-lipped smile. “Though Chan might have to be careful when talking to that guy. He’s a bit…”

“Eccentric?” you supply.

“Exactly.”

“Can he do that now?” Chaewon huffs impatiently. “I was meaning to start another experiment after I made sure this one didn’t fall through, but I guess I’m back to square one.” 

You flash your student a placating stare, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “Hey, your next assessment isn’t until the end of the month, right? You don’t have to rush. Besides, I’ve been thinking about teaching you how to brew your own instant growth potion.”

The enticing promise of a new technique visibly piques Chaewon’s interest. She gasps, taking your hands in hers before letting out a loud shriek. “Really?! You’re really going to teach me that? You know there are no take-backs once you say it, right?”

“Yes, I know.” You chuckle. “Now go head off to class. You have Chris here for first period, right?”

Your student groans. “Yeah… I still don’t know why I took musical theory as an elective.”

“You talk like I’m the worst instructor among the school faculty,” Chris huffs before walking back to the path leading to the main building. “Come on, Chaewon. You’ll be late.”

“How can I be late if I’m with you, though?”

“If you don’t stop being smart with me, I’ll tell BamBam to switch your monstera seeds with venus flytraps.” 

As the two of them bicker all the way to the entrance, you’re left alone with your troublemaking best friend. Chan still has his shoulders set as if the guilt from his earlier actions is still fresh in his heart. You sigh, gesturing for him to follow you into the greenhouse before stepping inside the enclosure.

Out of all the projects you’ve dedicated to mastering your elemental magic, the Academy’s greenhouse is by far your most renowned feat. It started as a pipe dream during your first year of attendance and in your final year, you managed to convince the board of elder mages to build the greenhouse with the help of your father.

Of course, since he’s a royal mage—the town’s representative in the courts of the royal capital—you won’t deny that he might’ve pulled a few strings here and there to make your dreams a reality. 

(If you can recall correctly, you once heard Chaewon’s friend, Yunjin jokingly whisper something about nepotism during one of the on-field classes you held.)

But whatever the means, the greenhouse proved to be an effective medium for magic of varying affinities. Both elemental and non-elemental mages often stop by to test their ideas about innovative applications of their powers. 

Some water mages have tested if plants can purify contaminated samples from the upstream river. A spatial mage once tried to clone a bonsai tree by multiplying their cells in an exact mirror image. 

And your best friend often tests the limits of what he can and can’t do around all the flora—given his magical constitution.

“So I’m guessing you already forgive me?” Chan asks with a sheepish smile on his face. “I promise I’ll just help out somewhere else when you’re not around. Baekho’s been inviting me to the magical combat wing a lot these days, but I need to think about it first ‘cause…you know.”

You do know. And out of every single person who knows Lee Jung Chan, you like to think that you understand his predicament better than anyone else.

Both of you started studying at the Academy at the same time, but you’re the only one who got to graduate after senior year. This made Chan ineligible for any sort of teaching position, since official employment required being an alumnus of any recognized magic school in the realm. The most he can be offered is a spot as a teaching aide and none else.

You’re well aware that because of that smudge on his track record, coupled with his clumsy tendencies, people often assume that Chan is a failure of a mage. A fire elemental who has no idea how to wield his own flames.

But what they don’t know is that in terms of raw power alone, even your father agrees that Chan surpasses every single student that’s ever had the pleasure to graduate from this school. The reason he can’t control his own flames is because of how potent they are. How powerful and all-consuming they can be if kept unchecked.

Your father once offered to bring him to one of his friends in the southern cities—someone who can help Chan tame his powers in ways he failed to guide him to. But your best friend declined, insisting that someone who can’t control their own flames doesn’t deserve the time and hospitality of anyone outside your hometown.

To this day, you still haven’t forgotten the resignation in his voice as he said the words. Like he’s so certain that all he deserves is to be some aberration kept in the shadows. You’ve always hated it whenever he sells himself short, but it’s not as if you can do anything about it if he’s so complacent with where he is now.

“Hey? You’re spacing out on me all of a sudden.”

You blink, nonplussed by Chan’s voice despite the fact that you’ve been standing with him inside the greenhouse for over five minutes. He’s posed a respectable distance away from any of the potted plants and flowers in the vicinity—standing so still, you almost find it funny.

“What made you drop by so early in the morning anyways?” you ask in an attempt at small talk. Your first class of the day doesn’t start until an hour, so you can afford to squander some time. “Don’t you usually get out of bed at noon?” 

“Hey, I get out of bed at eleven!” He insists as if that’s any better. “But anyways, the reason I showed up so early is because someone made a wrong delivery to my house. Ma was so surprised to see a huge crate at our doorstep, but she was even more surprised to see it was addressed to you.”

…A delivery? For you?

“What do you mean?” you wonder, head craned with confusion. “What was inside? Did it say who it was from?”

Chan shakes his head before pointing at the far end of the greenhouse. There, you see the massive wooden crate he must be talking about. “A bunch of flowers in a plant box with no return address. Maybe it’s one of those scholars from the capital who want you to study them again? You did work on a research project about hydrangeas last month right?” 

Strange flower delivery aside, you gape at him—heart fluttering at his thoughtfulness. “You remember that?” 

“Of course I do,” he says easily. “Now are you going to check out the crate so you can tell me what those flowers are or are we gonna stand in the middle of all these highly flammable plants all day?”

You don’t even bother asking how Chan managed to transfer such a huge thing from his house to the greenhouse. He must’ve asked help from Mingyu, another instructor’s aide who does a lot of heavy lifting around the school. Or maybe he even roped Baekho into this whole thing.

Either way, as soon as you open the mystery package, it’s as Chan described it: a plant box brimming with an assortment of flowers arranged in a way only professionals can put together. All the vibrant blooms are expertly placed so that one wouldn’t outshine the other and whoever sent this, they’ve certainly earned your approval. 

“So which is which?” Chan wonders as he peeps inside the crate again.

“Well,” you start, hands tracing each flower delicately. “This one is called a primrose, the dark pink ones are chrysanthemums, while the dantier flowers are carnations.”

As you explain how different they are from the other, it’s hard to miss how Chan struggles to keep himself from reaching into the crate to touch them. You feel kind of bad, but you know he’s only holding himself back because he doesn’t want to unintentionally start another fire. 

“What do they mean? In the language of flowers?” he wonders. “You always go on and on about how each one has its own special meaning. What about these guys?”

You ponder on it for a moment, actively recalling what you’ve been taught. “Hm. Primroses usually represent youth and optimism. Chrysanthemums are for friendship, and carnations…”

When its meaning flits to the forefront of your mind, your eyes widen as an abrupt realization hits you in the next moment. Your gaze drifts back to the flowers as Chan patiently waits for you to continue, and that’s when you notice something strange inside. 

Tucked in the middle of the assortment of lush flowers is a small envelope that wasn’t there before. The flap is enclosed with a familiar wax seal: the royal family’s crest. 

You’ve seen your father open enough letters from them to recognize the sigil pressed into the bright red wax, but you’ve never once received one for yourself. 

“Carnations signify fascination. Love,” you continue, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But I’m sure whoever sent these doesn’t know all that. They could’ve just picked these out because they’re pretty to look at together.”

Chan looks unconvinced. “Why don’t you open the envelope? I’m just guessing here, but maybe it was made to respond to your magic specifically? It would explain why it didn’t appear when I first checked the flowers out.”

For all his foolishness, he might actually be on to something this time.

But instead of brimming curiosity, that bothersome sensation from earlier surfaces again. It cloys in your chest, stirring your heart with trepidation before sinking like a stone in the pit of your stomach. 

Your hands go clammy as you inspect the envelope as if it’s hiding a beast so it could swallow you whole. The royal family hasn’t given you any reason to even be remotely wary of them, but your reluctance refuses to waver.

In the end, you choose to brush it off, picking at the seal until it detaches from the envelope. When you take out what’s inside, the familiar scent of rich red roses laces the fine parchment. 

It’s fairly easy to figure out who the sender is after that.

The greenhouse falls silent as you read through the letter’s contents. You’re acutely aware of Chan’s equally engrossed stare, but with each passing second, you grow more and more cognizant of the fact that this is definitely the reason why you awoke so keyed up first thing in the morning.

“Prince Joshua, huh?” He whispers somewhat disbelievingly before turning to you with curious eyes. “I figured you were friends since your father brings you along to the royal balls so often. Didn’t think he was this into you though.”

You didn’t either. You can hardly call the prince who’s second in line to the throne your friend, much more, a romantic prospect. Sure, Joshua is always hospitable whenever he catches you nursing a drink in the ballroom before asking for a dance, but you never would’ve imagined he harbored those kinds of feelings for you. 

What’s more is, though you came from a highly regarded lineage of mages, there isn’t a drop of royal blood in your veins. But here he is, asking you to be his fiancée all while giving you the prettiest flowers you’ve ever received.

“Do you think it could be a mistake?” you mumble, reading over the letter once more to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

Chan rolls his eyes. “Look, that’s clearly your name he mentioned at the top. And don’t you think that someone as important as Prince Joshua will be more careful about sending out gestures of grandeur? He can’t just give any beautiful girl flowers, you know.”

His words shouldn’t faze you as much as they do. It’s always been easy for Chan to compliment people when the chance arises and he’s called you beautiful dozens of times before. Sometimes teasingly, more often genuinely. 

It’s so strange. The most sought-after man in the kingdom just asked for your hand in marriage, but here you are—heart doing somersaults all because of your best friend’s easy admission.

Oh, heavens, you muse to yourself as Chan goes off on a tangent about how you’re mandated to get him front row seats to the wedding. 

This is going to be difficult.

“That’s good news!”

When you dragged Chan to your father’s office once all your classes for the day were finished, you expected him to at least mull over Joshua’s abrupt proposal a little longer. It’s not that he was strict about the men you let in your life, but he looks much too elated for someone whose daughter is on the brink of being married off to someone else.

Well. When that ‘someone else’ is Prince Joshua, you think the proposal holds more weight than it otherwise would with any other commoner.

“But I don’t understand,” you tell him, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Why does Prince Joshua want to marry me all of a sudden? He hasn’t expressed any sort of romantic interest in me before, so why…?”

Your father chuckles from behind his desk, one finger guiding the drink from his glass with magic so he can spin it around in circles. Water elementals can be so strange at times. 

“If I told you the prince has felt the way he claims in his letter for a good few years now, would it help you consider the proposal better?” he asks before putting the stream of wine he’s playing with back to its proper place. 

“Wait a moment,” Chan pipes up from his seat. “Are you saying he’s been in love with her for a long time now?” 

“Well, I’m not sure of the specifics, but the prince informed me of his affections a few months ago to seek my approval,” your father explains before leaning back into his seat to cast you a fond stare. “But I told him that regardless of what I think about the whole ordeal, the final decision isn’t up to me at all.” 

The weight of their stares suddenly falls on your form.

You swallow thickly, having known all this time that your father wouldn’t possibly push you to go through with the proposal despite how happy it made him. It’s not that you don’t think Joshua is suitable to be your husband, but…

“Isn’t he taking things a bit too fast?” you ask dryly. “He could at least court me first—”

“My sweet girl, you know the way things work at the castle are much different from how they are in this small town of ours,” your father sighs. “You’ve heard about the royal assimilation period, yes?”

You have. It’s a sort of probationary period imposed on non-royals who wish to marry into the family. You know of a few acquaintances who had to spend a full year in the castles of other kingdoms without setting foot outside the premises during its entirety. At the time, you found the idea of isolation dreadful and that you can’t ever see yourself being in their place.

Now here you are, at the brink of being tied down to a prince you barely even know.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend a chunk of your day thinking about the pros and cons of marrying into the royal family. Becoming princess consort means you’ll be given a voice in the political court of the castle. Though your father does just fine in representing your hometown as its royal mage, being part of the regency itself grants you more authority over the decisions being made for the kingdom’s sake.

The thought of being able to improve the quality of life in your hometown as well as bringing more adequate funds for the Academy makes the offer all sorts of tempting. This is the place that made you who you are today, and you’d want nothing more than to give back however you can. 

Plus, the thought of being married to Prince Joshua isn’t as daunting as it was when you found his letter hidden between the flowers he’d given. Since you had the whole work day to think about it, you managed to get over the initial dread and actually consider how having him as a partner would be.

His reputation as the kingdom’s most esteemed gentleman precedes him even in other places. It was once a popular opinion that Joshua would marry and settle down much sooner than his older brother, Jeonghan simply because of how adored he is among the people. Yet he’s already halfway through his twenties without any prospective partners.

Until now.

“I think you should accept his proposal.”

It shocks you that Chan is the one who tells you that. You stare at him with glaring disbelief while your father merely raises an eyebrow with mild interest before his lips break into a grin. “See? Even Chan over here agrees. I know it’s a bit much to suddenly become the fiancée of someone so important, but you’ll get to know each other better during the assimilation period anyways.”

Chan nods in agreement. “Besides, we can still visit you every now and again, right?”

The smile on your father’s face falls. “Oh, about that… Prospective royals aren’t allowed to entertain visitors that aren’t immediate family until the assimilation period concludes. But you can send letters if you end up missing each other too much.”

Your father says the words in such a light-hearted manner, you’re sure he didn’t say them in jest. He knows how close you and Chan have been since childhood; knows how important he is to you. If you accept Joshua’s proposal and whisk yourself off to the castle, it would be the longest you’ve gone without seeing your best friend in your entire life.

With Chan added to the equation, you realize that it’s not your level of familiarity with Joshua that makes you so reluctant to go through with it, nor is it the idea of being isolated from the outside for an entire year. 

It’s the fact that you won’t be able to meet Chan for its entirety.

“Well, it’s not like it’s something you have to decide on right away,” your father interjects when he senses that the atmosphere has dipped. “I’ll keep in touch with the prince about the whole thing, but I’m sure he’d like you to take your time anyways. This is a lifelong commitment we’re talking about after all.”

This is ridiculous. Well, not as ridiculous when you remember you’re now of marriageable age and the prince has been harboring feelings for you for longer than you thought. 

Still… 

When you look at Chan, you half-expect him to at least comment on your father’s words, but he merely grins as if he’s completely on board with the idea.

Yet you can’t help but notice how that smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

You end up accepting Joshua’s proposal a week later.

From what you could tell when he responded to your letter, the prince was ecstatic. He went into great detail about how he promises to make the entire assimilation process comfortable for you and that he can’t wait to have you at the castle. What makes the entire exchange all the more endearing is the fact that he’s genuinely apologetic about the abruptness of his proposal and that he honestly didn’t expect for you to agree.

You didn’t either.

If Joshua was ecstatic, your father was over the moon. When you informed him that you’re exchanging correspondences with the prince about the entire arrangement, he was quick to put together a farewell party when the final date of your assimilation period has been set in stone. 

In other words, the past month was extremely busy for you. It consisted of several back and forth trips to the royal capital so you and Joshua could get all the paperwork involved done together. He’s just as sweet and accommodating as you remember—making the whole process less intimidating than it’s supposed to be. The more time you spend with the prince and soon-to-be-fiance, the less nervous you are for what’s to come.

The anxiety finally wears off by the time your farewell party comes around. Your father made sure to invite close friends and family as well as a few of his students and yours. Chaewon was in tears at the news that another mentor is going to be assigned for her because of the circumstances, but you promised to keep in touch when you come back.

Although once you’ve had your final conversations with most of your guests, you start to feel how wary you are from interacting with so many people at once. Eyes scanning through the small venue your father rented for the occasion, you attempt to look for a single person—a pout tugging at your lips when you can’t find him amidst the crowd.

No one knows Lee Jung Chan better than you do, so you’re right on the money when you venture out to the nearby river—immediately spotting him sitting alone by the banks.

You can only guess how many stones he’s already skipped across the stream, but Chan doesn’t even flinch as you settle down beside him, pulling your legs to your chest so you can rest your chin on your knees.

“You haven’t come here in a while,” you murmur quietly. “Something on your mind?”

“Mmm.” His eyes are pulled straight forward as if still lost in thought. You sigh before opting to stew in the sound of the flowing river—gazing at the slowly setting sun in the far horizon.

It hits you at that moment just how much you’ll miss him. Quiet afternoons with your best friend have become few and far in between ever since you started teaching at the Academy. Now that you’re Joshua’s fiancée, you don’t even know if you’ll ever get to watch sunsets with him like this again. The thought fills you with that same sinking feeling that you only learned to overlook recently and it must show on your face because Chan is quick to turn to you with a curious look on his face.

“You nervous?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “Not really.”

“Then why do you look so…”

“So?”

“I don’t know…that.”

“You have to be specific, Chan.”

He huffs, taking another stone from a pile he collected at his side before skipping it across the water. “Well, you look like the way you did before your first magical assessment. Remember when the headmaster called me to sleep over because you were practically shaking with anxiety? Even if you’re literally from the best sorcerer family in the city?”

“Hey! Just because my father is good at everything doesn’t mean I am too!”

“But you don’t have to be good at everything.” Chan smiles and you’re unprepared for how your heart lurches at how breathtaking he looks. “You just have to be yourself.”

A pause hovers in the midst of the conversation and you can feel the heat starting to creep up your cheeks. If your best friend notices, he doesn’t let you know.

“I remember that you aced that assessment. Scored highest in our entire year too,” he recalls with a hint of fondness. “I think you’ll do just fine in that assimilation period. Wait, no. I know you will.”

You’ve always admired how easy it is for Chan to uplift others, despite the harsh words some people have used to put him down countless times. It’s like he soaks up the negativity in his life and lets it all out in a more productive manner. 

The steady flowing stream rings in your ears as the silence sets yet again, heart threatening to beat out of your ribcage as you drink in the sight of your best friend. Rays of muted sunlight filter through the trees onto his face and it makes the kind grin on his face glow even brighter.

Chan lets out a choked up sound when you immediately pull him in for a hug. He’s speechless for a couple of seconds—wondering what on earth got into you. In the end, he lets out a defeated sigh and returns your embrace with twice as much affection. 

“Sounds to me like you’re perfectly okay with marrying off your best friend to some guy,” you murmur jokingly, breathing in his scent like it’s your last. Burnt sugar and just a hint of musk. 

He laughs and the sound vibrates across your skin. “Prince Joshua is not some guy. And why wouldn’t I be happy that you’ll be married to such a great person? He can give you everything, you know? Even if I used to give all the dudes who got close to you back then a lot of shit, I know the prince will make you happy.”

Happy…

That’s something you haven’t really considered ever since you and Joshua started making the preparations for your assimilation. He’s a good prince who values his people over his own interests and he’s also a gentleman that always considers your input in every step. 

But not once did it ever occur to you that marrying him would equate to your own happiness.

The thought fills you with shame—especially knowing how much Joshua has done for you for the past month. You tell yourself that maybe it’s because you still don’t know him that well; that you just need a little more time before you can think of him as a person who can make you genuinely happy and not just someone who you have to marry for the sake of your town.

If there is someone who makes you feel that way without breaking a sweat, however…

Chan shoots you a puzzled look when you break away, rising back to your feet all while tugging at his arm. Still, he lets you pull him up—a determined look settling across your features.

“Follow me.”

During weekends, the Academy only grants entry to both students and faculty until mid-noon. But luckily for you, you’ve spent years sneaking into the greenhouse when you were still carefully cultivating all the plants you have on display.

Chan voices out his concern when you bring him inside, muttering something about trespassing on school territory but he tails you from behind anyway. 

The plant box full of dazzling flowers he brought a month ago isn’t here anymore—having been planted safely in the garden of your house. In its place is a brand new shipment of flowers you ordered from BamBam about two weeks ago.

Chan hasn’t seen them yet since he’s made it a point to avoid the greenhouse while Chaewon is in the middle of her experiments. But the curiosity in his eyes shines when you show them to him.

“These are called forget-me-nots,” you say, a warm smile tugging at your lips. “They aren’t that rare, but…they’ve always been my favorite. The first time I saw them was in a forest near the southern cities, where Father taught me the names of all kinds of trees and flowers.”

Chan nods with an expression that tells you he doesn’t quite get it, but is happy for you nonetheless. You stifle a laugh and his face immediately reddens as he clears his throat. “Um, why’d you ask BamBam for these though? They look kind of…simple compared to everything else you already have here.”

“It’s because they’re so simple that they stood out to me, silly,” you chuckle. “That forest was teeming with the most exotic plant life I’ve seen. Flowers of all shapes and colors, trees that grew up to the clouds… Even in such an abundant forest, simple flowers like these grew unassumingly by the side—still thriving despite being considered inferior.”

When you stare at Chan, you realize how much these flowers remind you of him. And it’s for that reason that you’re about to ask him a huge favor.

“Can you take care of them for me while I’m gone?” you whisper—voice carrying a hopeful tone. “I know it’s a tall request but—”

“Are you kidding? Nothing’s ever a tall request from you.” He huffs. “Of course I’ll do it.”

Your mouth hangs slightly agape—not expecting Chan to agree to it so easily. It takes you a moment to pick up your train of thought, but when you do, you break into an even wider grin. 

“Really? Notorious plant-killer Lee Jung Chan is agreeing to take care of a bunch of flowers for an entire year?” you tease. 

“Hey, you’re the one who asked, so why are you suddenly questioning my credibility?” The pout on his face just makes you want to tease him even more. “I’m probably going to end up burning a few of them by accident, but I won’t be seeing you for a long time. This is the least I can do while I wait for you to come back, right?”

You are going to miss him so much, it makes your heart hurt.

Unlike earlier, Chan immediately reciprocates the hug you pull him into. You bury your face in the crook of your neck, ingraining the scent of him in your mind so that you’ll never forget your best friend even if you tried.

“I’ll come back for them in the spring,” you whisper. 

Chan hums, his thumb tracing idle shapes along your shoulder blades. “Is that a promise?”

It feels like forever before you break away from him, but when you do, the desolate feeling you got from the thought of being apart from him goes up in smoke. Chan raises an eyebrow when you reach into the plant box to pluck two forget-me-nots from the soil—enchanting the blooms with your magic so the stems could morph into rings.

One for you and one for Chan.

“It’s a promise.”

“Miss, you’ve got a letter again.”

You’re in the middle of reading up on a compilation of the kingdom’s annual state of affairs when your handmaiden, Sakura, finds you in the castle gardens. She gathers her skirts with one hand while the other carries an unassuming envelope. It’s routine at this point.

“Thank you, Kkura,” you murmur before flashing her a warm smile. “Has Prince Joshua returned yet?”

She shakes her head. “The peace talks between the four kingdoms are taking much longer than anticipated. Although he and Prince Jeonghan should be back by tomorrow, if what the socialites are gossiping about in the main plaza are true.”

You stifle a soft laugh. “I bet Prince Jeonghan’s stirring up trouble in a foreign court as we speak.”

“You can say that again,” Sakura agrees with a withering sigh. “One of the reasons the king won’t easily let Prince Jeonghan take his place is because of his constant deviance. I’d bet my salary that he was just waiting for Prince Joshua to take up a wife before handing him the crown instead.”

“Kkura, the others might hear,” you scold, but there’s a chuckle wedged between the words. “Well, if a miracle happens and they arrive home earlier than expected, you know where to find me.”

“You’re very diligent about reading, aren’t you, miss?” She comments, impressed. “I know a couple of princess consorts in the making, but you’re probably the only one who cares to read about the technicalities of running a kingdom. Most of them are only in it for the chance to marry into a royal family.” 

“Those waiting for me back home wouldn’t be very proud if I only leeched off my engagement with Prince Joshua,” you say a-matter-of-factly.

“You mean your father?”

There’s a pause in the conversation—one long enough for you to suddenly be cognizant of several things at once. The water running from a nearby fountain. Birds chirping before migrating into their nests for the night. In the silence, you let your eyes wander to the rings in your fingers.

A diamond engagement ring that probably costs more than what you’ve earned in your entire life on your ring finger and a bright blue forget-me-not wrapped around your pinky.

Right. Sakura doesn’t know about… 

“Yes,” you tell her, but there’s hesitation in your voice that you hope she won’t hear. “He’s been very thorough about giving me advice on how to make the best decisions for a lot of people.”

“As expected of a royal mage,” she sighs, “Oh well, I’ll leave you be, miss. If your father is as thorough as you say he is, then I can only imagine what he’s written in that new letter.”

Well, she’s not exactly wrong.

After exchanging farewells, Sakura bows her head with a practiced curtsy—saying something about supper being ready in an hour or two before leaving you to your own devices. When you find yourself all alone once more, you rip open the envelope with a hint of excitement buzzing on your fingertips. 

It’s been about three months since you’ve left your hometown and started your assimilation period. During those three months, you were constantly fed with a multitude of information that comes with being part of the regency. From etiquette classes to foreign relations—your teachers all expected you to take everything they told you to heart. 

While the process sounds much too tedious, especially for someone who’s quite literally stuck here for another nine months, Joshua always took it upon himself to make sure you wouldn’t feel too bored with all the stringent formalities. 

He’s wonderful company—never running out of stories to tell. From childhood embarrassments at the hands of his older brother to his own share of mischief that’s always overshadowed by the gravity of Jeonghan’s, Joshua kept you constantly entertained.

Your fiancé even suggested that the two of you sneak out into the city sometime just so he could show you that pub near the outskirts that he enjoys frequenting while undercover as an ordinary citizen. Of course, the offer sounded tempting at first, but you rightfully declined out of respect for both the royal family and the tradition that has kept the kingdom going for so long.

However, Joshua isn’t always here to keep you company. Being one of the most important figures in the kingdom, he and Jeonghan are regularly called in and out of the castle to attend to some business that their parents are too busy to sneak into their own schedules. 

It’s during your fiancé’s bouts of absence that you look forward to your next form of entertainment—all the letters sent from home.

Just as you’ve told Sakura, your father accommodates all your questions about ruling over one’s constituents as much as he can—telling you to pay attention to the needs of the people above all else.

But aside from the detailed notes he leaves you with, there’s always another letter wedged inside the envelopes he sends to the castle every fortnight.

Hey.

How are you? Has the prince been treating you well, still? Sorry I couldn’t write to you last time. Training’s been hell and Jongkook hasn’t let me breathe for the past week. When the headmaster told me that becoming that guy’s apprentice wasn’t going to be easy, I didn’t think he was that serious. It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten third degree burns from all this temperature training.

Things are a little a lot different in the southern cities compared to home. Everyone is as mean as they could be. Jongkook called it the survival of the fittest and I kind of get where he’s coming from. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see someone smiling every now and again, right? It’s a good thing I’m allowed to go home every week, or else my sanity would’ve disappeared before we could even see each other again.

About your flowers: have I told you that Chaewon’s helping me maintain them whenever I’m away? We’ve buried the hatchet and agreed to look after your forget-me-nots together! But she kind of emphasized that she’s doing this for you and not because she’s completely forgiven me for the monstera incident. But hey, progress is progress, right?

I checked them out personally when I got home today. They seemed more vibrant than usual. Almost like they’re happy to know I’m back. Seeing them made me think how I’d probably feel when your assimilation period is over. Ah, but I’m running out of parchment to write on. Sorry about that. There isn’t much going on with me anyways. 

Tell me about your classes when you write back, yeah? You also mentioned a pub that Prince Joshua wanted to sneak you into last time. Did you go through with it? Did you have fun? I can’t wait to hear from you so the story better be exciting!

P.S. If the prince himself encourages you to sneak out of the castle, would you consider doing that so we can wander around the main plaza sometime?

P.P.S. That was a joke, by the way. Don’t have the royal guard arrest me. 

P.P.P.S. But if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t say no.

Chan writes his letters the same way he talks in real life. You can almost hear his voice inside your head as you go through every word. You’re glad that he still has enthusiasm to spare over receiving tutelage from someone as important as Kim Jongkook, but even you can tell that his training is no walk in the park. 

There were tears in your eyes when he first broke the news. You thought he’d spend his entire life without getting the proper guidance he needs to hone his powers. But a month after your departure, Chan quickly kept you up to speed about his newfound mentor with a promise that he’ll be the best fire elemental in your hometown by the time you got back.

But with how he bemoans the rigorous training in his letters, you ponder if he sometimes gets hit with the thought of quitting halfway. While his excruciating routines are a far cry from the year’s worth of assimilation classes you’re required to attend, you like to think that you and Chan have a similar threshold for the things you’ll willingly bear without complaints. 

Though you’ve already accustomed yourself with your life at the castle, it’s a no-brainer to say you’d choose to leave for home in a heartbeat if given the chance. But your conscience won’t let you entertain the idea for too long, especially knowing how much you owe it to your hometown to persevere until the end.

That’s why even if you’d want nothing more than to see your best friend, you decidedly draw a fine line between your responsibilities and your heart’s desires. You want so badly to meet Chan again even if that means sneaking past the royal guards, but you’ve never really been one to bend and break the rules for selfish reasons like that. 

Instead, you tuck your best friend’s letter away in the envelope beside your father’s. Nothing but the sound of the water spilling from the fountain rings in your ears. 

As you stare at the pretty blue flower tied at the base of your pinky, you wonder for the hundredth time if you’ve made the right decision at all.

Prince Joshua is easy to love.

By your sixth month in the castle, you can genuinely say that you’ve at least developed a kind of attachment to the prince that borders on romantic. He’s handsome, thoughtful, kind, and many other traits that would only quantify him as a perfect husband. 

Jeonghan regularly catches your gaze lingering several seconds too long on your fiancé every suppertime and it’s no surprise that the eldest prince would tease you to the ends of the earth for it. Saying something along the lines of if you’re already making moony eyes at him now, what more when you finally tie the knot?

It’s something that always flusters you no matter how many times Jeonghan brings it up. But it’s not because you’re embarrassed about what you feel for Joshua. It mostly stems from the fact that you don’t know what to feel for him.

Despite having lived under the same roof for six months, you’re still unsure of where your heart stands when it comes to Joshua. It’s a standstill of emotions that frustrates you to no end. You know nothing will be lost if you just surrender to your budding feelings, but it’s like there’s something always holding you back. 

When the king hosts an overdue gala in the castle, you finally realize what it is.

It’s been more than half a year since they last held one within the premises out of respect for your ongoing assimilation. But now that you’ve passed the six-month mark, the royal court deemed it appropriate to give you more exposure to social functions such as this.

You’re understandably nervous for your first public appearance as Prince Joshua’s fiancée. Sakura has told you about how ruthless the kingdom's nobles could be when it comes to unearthing other people’s business. But your handmaiden assured you there’s nothing to worry about since you’ve done flawlessly with your classes since day one.

So there you are in front of the ballroom, arm linked with Joshua’s as the queen introduces you to every single noble in attendance. You wonder if the prince can tell just how nervous you are but you can at least hope that your smile can convince a hundred other strangers otherwise.

“Hey,” he whispers—eyes still riveted towards the crowd.

“What?”

“You don’t have to be so uptight.”

You try your best not to make a face. “Easy for you to say, Mister I’ve-been-attending-galas-since-I-was-in-the-womb.”

Joshua chuckles softly. “But you’ve been attending these frequently, too. That’s how we met, remember?” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never been the center of attention!”

“Well…” He pauses before shifting his gaze towards the crowd—his mother’s sweet voice echoing throughout the ballroom as she tells everyone how excited she is to welcome you to the family soon. “If it helps, there’s a certain someone in the crowd that’s definitely rooting for you.”

Your confusion visibly shows on your face before you follow his line of sight. You knew your father would be in attendance as is required of all royal mages, but it’s not him that you spot in the crowd.

It’s Chan.

He’s a lot different than you remember—looking much too dapper to pass as the boy you knew as your best friend. He’s donned in expensive-looking garbs, the maroon silk of his tunic hanging loosely off his frame. His hair is slicked back and styled in a way that would make anyone think he was from one of the noble houses. Even the manner he’s holding a glass of champagne looks way too sophisticated for someone you frequently teased for his lack of etiquette and—

There’s a woman hanging off his arm. A woman you don’t know, but looks just as breathtaking as any maiden inside this damn ballroom.

Who is she? Chan has never mentioned any new friends in his letters. Hell, he didn’t even tell you he was going to be here tonight. Instead of feeling at peace with the fact your best friend is finally in front of you like Joshua assumed, all it does is stir a plethora of unpleasant feelings in the pit of your stomach.

“Now that we’ve got the formalities out of the way,” the queen says with a smile—snapping you out of your trance, “how about we let our stars of the night lead the first dance? I know the lot of you have missed our parties. On behalf of the royal family and your future king and queen, we hope you’ll enjoy this night of music and liquor. Have a good evening, everyone.”

Forcing yourself not to think about how the queen just referred to you and Joshua as the kingdom’s future king and queen, you let your fiancé lead you to the dancefloor. Joshua is careful as ever as he helps you down the polished marble steps—that handsome smile never leaving his face. You feel like your heart would’ve fluttered as the two of you exchange the opening bows, but your heartbeat is all over the place knowing Chan is here watching everything unfold.

“You remember what we practiced, right?” Joshua murmurs as the orchestra starts the song. 

“U-Uh, yeah,” you stammer—hoping your hands aren’t sweating through your silk gloves. “I won’t step on your toes anymore. Promise.”

“That’s my girl.”

His smooth-talking is not doing you any favors, but you try to dance the same way you practiced with for weeks. The thing about Joshua is that he always makes things easier for you—be it your engagement or some opening dance his parents requested for you to do. He’s so unbelievably accommodating that your initial nervousness easily falls away as the music continues to fill the ballroom.

You only notice that the other guests have already paired up with their own partners on the dancefloor when Joshua twirls you around and hands you over to a noble gentleman you find vaguely familiar. He grins at you when he receives his next dance partner, mouthing “You can do it,” before he spins her away. 

This is the part that you barely rehearsed for. Joshua simply told you to have fun and the rest will come easily. His unhelpful advice threw you off a little, since you were so accustomed to doing things by the book—to abiding by the rules that have been set. 

Your current partner—Hyunjin, as he introduced himself—seems to pick up on your nervousness.

“You’re the kid of one of the royal mages, right?” he asks. “I’m the same. You’ve done this partner exchange thing before, haven’t you? I’ve seen you around a few times in the past.” 

You laugh dryly. “Yeah, but I’m just really nervous today.”

Hyunjin laughs. “Understandable. Don’t think about it too much and just let the music guide you through it.”

Well that’s easier said than done. The noblemen in the kingdom must have some sort of dance class where they’re taught to just take it easy because that’s definitely something you can picture Joshua saying to you as well. 

But as the orchestra continues to play song after song, you find your initial inhibitions ebbing away with each partner that passes. Hyunjin is right—you have done this before and you’re slowly remembering how fun it feels to dance with strangers in the middle of the castle’s ballroom. 

As the last few songs start to play, there’s no trace of nervousness left to be seen on your face. You’re finally in your element.

Until you finally find yourself in the arms of the same person who amplified your anxiety in the first place.

“Hey,” Chan greets with a soft smile as he fits one hand over your waist and entwines the other with yours. “I thought I’d never be able to get to you.”

You spend a couple of seconds just gawking at him, but your body thankfully still moves to the rhythm. Chan has the gall to stifle a laugh at your reaction and you nearly step on his foot on purpose.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss as he twirls you around. 

“Whoa. Don’t get so worked up. The headmaster invited me, so my presence here is completely legal,” he responds, that stupid smile never leaving his face. “Anyway, you look beautiful tonight.” 

“Thanks, but you could’ve at least told me you’ll be here!”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You want to snap at him and scold him for taking you by surprise like that. Part of you kind of wants to ask about his date for the night too, but past the frustration, you’re still glad to see him. It’s been too long and you know you have lots of catching up to do in person. So instead of an endless barrage of questions, you simply bask in the feel of being in your best friend’s safe hands after going so long without him.

You lose yourself to the music. At that moment, it’s as if you and Chan are the only two people in the world—contained in your own little bubble. When your gaze lands on the hand clasped with yours, your heart soars at the fact that he’s still wearing the ring you gave to him all those months ago.

A forget-me-not at the base of his pinky—much like your own.

“I’m not sure if I can steal you away for a quick chat after this so…” He purses his lips together as if he’s unsure of what to say. “You’re doing great. The queen seems enamored with you from what I could tell from her speech, so I hope you won’t put yourself down like you always do. You’ll be the best princess consort ever.

“And you seem really happy with Prince Joshua. I’m glad.”

Before you could even issue a response, he’s already turning you over to your next partner—making the words dissipate on your tongue before you can say them out loud.

Your next partner is none other than your future brother-in-law and you’re not sure if this is a good thing or not.

“Having fun?” Jeonghan asks with mirth coloring his tone. 

“As much fun as someone who’s wearing heels all night can have,” you sigh as you match his careful yet precise movements. “Am I really going to have to do this all the time once Prince Joshua and I are married?”

The older man hums. “Mmm… You and Shua getting married? Not too sure about that, love.”

You furrow your brows at him. “What?” 

“Ah, forgive me. I was just teasing,” Jeonghan muses with a sleazy look that’s rubbing you the wrong way. “It’s just that…I noticed you and that last partner of yours have matching rings, as well. Seems too good to be a coincidence on my end, but I could just be making the wrong assumptions.”

You don’t know why, but your chest seizes with panic—immediately explaining to Jeonghan that Chan is your best friend and nothing else. It’s not that you’re ashamed of him, but…

“Relax, little dove. I never insinuated otherwise,” Jeonghan chuckles. “But if you’re going to settle down with my brother, I suggest you do it with an unwavering heart. That’s all.” 

You know you didn’t do anything remotely wrong, but Jeonghan is making it seem like he’s just caught you red handed for a crime you aren’t aware of committing. The same cheery smile lingers on his face for the entire dance, but there was an uncharacteristic seriousness in his words when he told you that last part.

A quiet voice inside your head tells you that you completely deserve the suspicion. 

“Go find your fiancé for the final dance, love,” Jeonghan says with one last gentlemanly bow. “It’s only fair to  properly conclude something you started together.” 

Something tells you that there’s a double meaning behind his words, but even with how much time you’ve spent with Jeonghan, you still can’t easily parse what he means to say. Despite this, you do as you’re told—weaving through the crowd of visitors in search of Joshua.

You find him near the orchestra, dancing with the same woman whose arm was linked in Chan’s earlier tonight. There’s an dazzled look on her face that you’ve seen on the other ladies your fiancé has danced with and you chalk it up to the usual enchantment people are subjected to when they’re in Joshua’s company. He has that effect on people, it seems.

But she promptly snaps out of it when her eyes drift off to you—whispering something for Joshua to hear before the prince spins around with a welcoming look. He grins like he’s oh-so happy to see you and even if you know you should feel just as elated…

All that swells in your chest is guilt.

“They want us to what?” 

A few days after the royal gala, Joshua pays your bedchambers a visit early in the morning. Sakura had just finished helping you into your corset and dress when the prince came knocking and despite your initial surprise, you gladly welcomed him at the doorway.

“Mother and Father want us to pay the local orphanage a visit,” Joshua reiterates the same words he just mentioned a minute ago, bemusement clear on his face. “They’ve been dispatching royal mages to hold magic classes for the young mages there lately. Jeonghan is usually the one who oversees it, but he has something more urgent to take care of today.”

Your throat bobs at the news. “But…I haven’t completed my assimilation yet.”

Joshua waves away your concerns. “About that. Since you’ve done such a remarkable job with your training thus far, and since you’ve apparently enamored dozens of guests the other day, I asked Father to reconsider the restrictions that come with the process.”

Enamored dozens of…? You shake your head, focusing on the matter at hand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the assimilation period is still in effect, but we’ve decided to…rectify a few of the rules that come with it,” Joshua explains with a cheeky smile. “Once royal protégés like you have passed the half-year mark, you’ll be allowed to go in and out of the castle as you please.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. Is he being serious? Or is this a test? 

“Come on, you’re making that face again.”

“What face?”

“Like what I’m saying is too good to be true.” Your fiancé pouts. "Don’t you want to go out? If I was stuck for six months in the castle without getting a taste of the outside, I honestly would’ve gone insane. Abiding by the one year rule is simply inhumane and it should’ve been amended a long time ago.”

…There he is again—making things easier for you like he always does.

You’ve never once thought of the castle as a prison, but… You did miss the outside. You miss early morning strolls in parks, weaving through markets to buy produce from local vendors. It’s been so long since you’ve had actual freedom that you forgot that you were quietly longing for it at all.

And Joshua went out of his way to give you just that.

“Okay,” you tell him—cautiousness still evident in your tone, but much less pronounced.

“What time do we leave?”

You have a feeling that the gods are out to smite you today. 

No, really. They are. Because what sort of sick game is at play right now? Just when you thought you’ve found even more reasons to stick by Joshua until the end, they decide to throw a curveball at you in the form of…

“Oh, hello,” Chan greets with a stunned look when he appears behind the double doors to the orphanage—white marks that suspiciously look like cake batter smeared across his face. “I didn’t know that you were coming today. Prince Jeonghan said—”

“Yeah, Prince Jeonghan was busy so here we are,” you speak before Joshua could even explain, which you think is all kinds of rude, but your mouth starts running before your brain can even process the fact that your best friend is right in front of you. “Pray tell, what are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, princess-consort-in-the-making. What’re you doing outside the castle?” Chan laughs as he opens the door wider with an apologetic bow given to Joshua. “Forgive me, Your Highness. We’re always just this familiar with each other.”

“So I’ve been told,” Joshua chuckles before turning to you. “Didn’t your father tell you? Chan is his newly appointed aide. He’s dealing with something in your hometown right now, so he often sends him to tend to matters like this in his stead.”

No, your father did not tell you anything about this at all. Your incredulous expression shifts between your fiancé and best friend as if you’re waiting for the punchline of some joke shared between them.

It never comes.

“I-I see,” you say instead, clearing your throat before looking at Joshua again. “So is there anything I need to do?” 

“Mmm, you can go meet the children with Chan while I talk to the orphanage directress,” he suggests. “You’ll be alright with that, right Chan?”

Your best friend nods. “Of course, Your Highness.”

“No need to be so formal with me. My fiancée's friends are mine as well,” the prince chuckles while he shakes his head. “I best be off to the directress’ office. I’ll come find the two of you after. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Chan answers. “It’s a pleasure to have you.”

Joshua grins. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the  orphanage’s communal kitchen—rounding up children who might or might not hurt each other with their own play magic.

They were apparently in the middle of baking a cake for the directress when you and Joshua made your unannounced visit. From how smitten the kids are with Chan, you figure that he must’ve been spending a lot of time here lately.

Your best friend mentioned that he has a new…sideline going on, but you never imagined it to be this.

“Channie, who’s this?” Iseul—as Chan introduced—asks while he eyes you with a doe-eyed look. “Your wife?”

“Iseul,” reprimands one of the other kids. This one’s Eri, if you recall correctly. “That’s rude…”

The boy laughs nervously before fidgeting with his fingers. “O-Oh, sorry. I just thought so since she’s wearing the same ring Channie’s wearing.”

As if on cue, you and Chan both glance at your rings—two forget-me-nots stare back. 

Your best friend is the first to address their curiosity. “No, she’s not my wife.”

Iseul cranes his head. “Then why’re you two wearing matching rings? The directress told me that only people who are married can do that.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” he chuckles before walking towards the brick oven in the middle of the kitchen—striking the coals with a precise shot of flame magic. A quiet ember immediately smolders beneath. “We wear rings as a symbol of a promise we made to each other. Isn’t that right?”

Trying not to look too stunned with his precise technique, you clear your throat. “Um, yes. Chan is my best friend. We make promises all the time.”

You kind of fear that the explanation might not be enough for Iseul, but surprisingly, he just nods in understanding. “Ohhh. Just like me and Eri then!”

At the mention of her name, Eri’s face goes red, but she doesn’t make any moves to deny it. 

“Yup. Just like you and Eri,” Chan agrees with a laugh. “Come on. Let’s put the cake we worked so hard on in the oven. You want to give this as a gift to the directress, right?” 

Ten minutes later, the other kids joined the fray as they watched the cake rise inside the oven. You and Chan watch them carefully from a distance, making sure no one comes too close to burn themselves. 

“Sooo,” your best friend starts, leaning against the wooden counter. “Did the prince sneak you out or?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “No. But he did negotiate with the king to overhaul the terms that come with the assimilation period. Once someone manages to last for six months, they’re allowed to go outside.”

Chan whistles. “Now that’s a guy who’ll do anything for his wife. Uh, future wife.”

If those words were uttered by someone else, you would’ve felt flattered. It’s an honor to have someone like Joshua as your fiancé. He’s done more than enough for you over the past year and you can’t even begin to comprehend how you’re supposed to pay him back for his kindness.

But when Chan says them, it fills your chest with a feeling you can’t name.

“Anyway,” you begin, “were you planning on telling me that you’re Father’s aide now or was I just going to find that out from Prince Joshua after all?” 

“Hehe, sorry,” he says, sounding anything but apologetic. “I…kinda wanted to keep it a surprise until your assimilation period is over. But turns out, I could get to see you much sooner after all.”

You roll your eyes despite the smile that creeps up your face. 

It’s common practice for royal mages to appoint aides that they’re training to be the next royal mage. You can only imagine how much Chan has improved over the last six months to have garnered your father’s approval like this. That man’s standards are crazy high.

But then again, you’ve always known that Chan was always cut out to be an amazing mage.

As the children’s attention shifts to Eri, who’s being egged on by Iseul to ‘do that trick with the flowers again’, you find yourself quietly observing them. With red cheeks, Eri relents—snapping her fingers once before a pretty sunflower materializes out of thin air.

That casual display even catches you off guard. 

At your side, Chan stifles a laugh and you shoot him a dirty look. “You and Eri have the same elemental affinity. She doesn’t know her way around plants yet, but she can make flowers from sheer will alone.”

That’s…quite impressive, actually. You haven’t met a promising mage with an affinity for plant life since Chaewon. And Eri is barely ten years old. 

“I bet she’ll grow up to be a fine mage,” you comment fondly as you keep your eyes on the kids. 

Just as you say the words, Iseul claps his hands enthusiastically—lone spurts of fire jumping from his fingers. The other kids all exclaim as they avoid the flames before telling Iseul to knock it off.

“Uh, yeah. Iseul is a fire elemental,” Chan says dryly. “He’s also kinda having trouble controlling his powers. But don’t worry, that’s why I’m here.”

At that moment, you realize that a lot can change in the span of six months. Before you left your hometown, you never would’ve imagined Chan being responsible for another child’s magical progress. You were so used to hearing him putting himself down that the confidence he now exudes surprises you. In a good way. 

Whatever he went through in the southern cities, you think of extending your gratitude to his mentor, Jongkook. You can only imagine what he put your best friend through for him to have this much trust in himself and his powers now.

Chan heaves a laugh that he pulls from the bottom of his stomach when one of the kids douses Iseul with a magical spray of water. It’s a sound you’ve longed to hear for months and now that his laughter is singing in your ears, you can’t help but stare at him a little too fondly.

What’s more is that he still has cake batter smeared across his cheek. You wonder if he genuinely isn’t aware it’s there or he’s just keeping it on for laughs. Still, you unconsciously lean closer—raising your hand to brush your fingers across the cream. Your best friend visibly startles at the gesture but makes no moves to shy away from your touch.

With your faces inches away, you start to realize just how close you’ve gotten. You can almost feel the hitch of his breath across your skin and… 

Has Chan always been this handsome?

But those few precious moments are immediately shattered like glass when Iseul gasps and points to the entrance of the kitchen. “Look! It’s Prince Jeonghan!”

You and Chan break apart like you’ve both been burned by Iseul’s flames. Confusion races through your brain because you were told that Jeonghan was busy today, so why…?

“Common mistake, but I’m not Prince Jeonghan. I’m his brother,” Joshua clarifies as he steps into the kitchen with a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

One of the other kids gasps. “Are you a prince too?” 

“He is.”

It surprises you that Chan is the one to speak up—having moved away from the counter and closer to the kids. You feel your heart twist when he leaves, but you shove down the emotion since Chan is beaming like he always is.

“He’s Prince Joshua and he’s getting married soon,” he continues before gesturing to you. “To her, actually.”

The children let out noises of awe, blinking up at you and Joshua with mouths agape like they’ve just witnessed someone do a neat trick with their magic. You can feel your face heat up at the sudden attention and you would’ve been glad to know that Joshua—for all his confidence and wit—isn’t faring so well either.

If only you weren’t so put down by the fact that your best friend just drew a fine line between the two of you. A line that he probably, definitely won’t cross.

“That’s right. If all goes well, we’re having the wedding in six months,” Joshua agrees quietly—his initial shock morphing into fondness. 

“Whoa! A royal wedding?” Iseul gasps. “Are we invited too?”

The atmosphere proceeds to blur into a buzz of questions that Joshua is happy to accommodate. For children who are probably no older than twelve years old, they seem very engrossed in the relationships interspersed between the royal family.

You wonder if Jeonghan had a hand in their particular interest in the matter, but you don’t ponder on it too much because Chan eventually excuses himself from the kitchen—asking you to watch over the cake while he goes to check on the other kids playing in the backyard.

Your eyes stay riveted to the entrance even when your best friend is long gone.

You’re not sure how you’ve managed to last nine months away from home, but here you are.

As the end of your assimilation draws near, so does the royal wedding that’s been the talk of the capital for weeks now. Ever since you’ve been given freedom to go out of the castle as you please, you’ve made several friends among the elite socialites. 

They’re always dying to get their hands on an inside scoop about what you and Joshua have planned for the final quarter of the process, but you often turn these requests down before convincing one of the ladies to tell you about the diamond necklace her husband got her for their anniversary. 

It’s a scheme that Sakura told you in passing: if you want to get the nosy ones off your back, just trick them into talking about themselves instead. 

Speaking of your handmaiden, she’s been busy booking you several trips to the most renowned boutique in the capital. With only three months left until the wedding, you’re expected to look out for the perfect dress to wear on that special day. 

Despite knowing that you’re more level-headed than most marriageable women your age, you have fantasized about what you would look like in a wedding gown. Although sixteen year-old you never would’ve considered getting to sample the designs of well-known tailors across the kingdom, much more being fussed over by the royal family itself.

What you pictured was a simple wedding in your hometown—donned with a dainty white dress that didn’t boast much glamor and glitz. The only visitors would be your family, some close friends, along with your colleagues and students. A spring wedding always seemed perfect to you, and whenever you imagined yourself walking down the aisle, the person waiting for you at the altar is—

“Oh my goodness,” the seamstress behind all the stunning dresses you're trying on gasps when she lets herself inside the dressing room—eyes glittering like rhinestones. “You look absolutely stunning! I definitely like the fit of this more than the others, miss!”

You startle out of your careful reminiscing as your brain zones back in on your reflection in the mirror. This dress is as white as an angel’s wings and though she is completely right about it easily being the best you’ve tried on so far, it’s a far cry from the one you dreamed about wearing as a teen. 

You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

“You think so?” you murmur, pushing down those past preferences into the furthest vestiges of your mind. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Aside from wedding gowns, the queen often consults you about the venue of the wedding. You’re actually quite surprised with how much agency they’re allowing you over the necessary decisions, but she insisted that it’s only fair for her future daughter-in-law to have a say with how her own wedding is going to pan out.

“I was thinking of holding it in the castle’s courtyard for all the kingdom to see,” she tells you over afternoon tea, a kind smile settled on her face. “That’s how all royal weddings usually take place, but I thought we could use some fresh input, you know?”

“Fresh input?” you repeat. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but I don’t think I can follow…”

The queen shakes her head. “Silly girl, I’m asking if you have another venue in mind! Your ideas about royal politics have always been refreshing to hear, so I figured that you must have an alternative sitting inside that pretty mind of yours.”

The moment the words leave her lips, you immediately picture the riverbanks back in your hometown. It’s not a place that could accommodate hundreds upon thousands of guests like royal weddings should. But if you were to settle with a more intimate gathering, that would be your best bet.

Of course, you tell the queen none of this.

“I think holding it at the courtyard is a splendid idea already, Your Highness,” you tell her with a smile that you don’t quite believe in. “After all, there’s no place like home.”

Another thing to consider is the guestlist. Even if this is an event that the royal family encourages the entire kingdom to look forward to, only a select few are allowed inside the castle premises. 

For some reason, Jeonghan is the one saddled with the job to curate who gets to witness you being hailed both as Joshua’s wife and as princess-consort. He’s hard at work when you find him in the castle library one day, buried in stacks upon stacks of invitations with a look on his face that screams why am I even here?

Curious, you slide into one of the empty seats at the table. “I didn’t think they’d hand you a job so tedious.”

“They didn’t,” Jeonghan frames the words with a sigh. “I volunteered ‘cause I know it would make Shua happy.”

“You can make your little brother happy in other ways too,” you joke.

The older prince hums as he scribbles onto a fine sheet of parchment. “You’d know a lot about making my brother happy, now would you?”

Jeonghan has a reputation for being a scheming, sharp-tongued prince. You’re fully aware of this, but getting to live with him for almost a year made you see sides of him he doesn’t usually show to the public.

Though not as openly as Joshua does, he cares for his family and the staff in his own, quiet way. You like to think that his subtle thoughtfulness even extended to you during these fateful months in the castle. 

But after that fateful encounter in the ballroom during the six-month mark of your assimilation, something told you that you no longer had the privilege of being on the receiving end of his support.

“It’s kind of ironic, really,” Jeonghan muses before dipping his pen into the inkwell. “I’m willingly overseeing this blasted guestlist despite the fact that my brother is getting married to someone who doesn’t even love him. But I suppose it’s an older brother’s job to cater to the fantasy until he sees things for how they are on his own.”

“Your Highness, forgive me but it’s rather bold of you to assume that I don’t harbor an ounce of love for my fiancé,” you tell him outright, lacing your fingers together tightly on your lap. 

Right next to the lavish ring Joshua had given to you, a forget-me-not sits unassumingly by its side. 

Jeonghan laughs. “Really? That’s quite amusing, since I think it’s even bolder for you to choose responsibility over the man your heart truly longs for.”

Silence rings in the room like white noise and you aren’t able to school your expression into neutrality fast enough to escape Jeonghan’s observant eyes. The complacent set of his jaw clues you in on just how much he actually knows and you aren’t certain about what to make of it.

“Whatever you think is going on with me and…that person,” you start, the address tasting like acid on your tongue, “I guarantee you that it’s long gone. He’s the one who made it clear several months before and I never once intended to go back on something I already started.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before pointing the tip of his quill at you. “You know, things would be much easier if you were just a gold-digging commoner and none else.”

Your face twists with offense. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he retaliates as he leans back in his seat. “If you were in this for money and power like every other woman out there, Shua would’ve called off the engagement much sooner. But even I know that you’re too good for that.”

Your momentary vexation with Jeonghan blurs into confusion in a matter of seconds. Is he making a jab at you or complimenting you?

When he recognizes the puzzled look on your face, he heaves a long-winded sigh before putting down his pen altogether.

“Let me put it this way: you’re objectively the best princess-consort-in-training that I’ve had the pleasure to meet. You do everything you’re told flawlessly—sticking by the book at all times if you can help it. You’d even sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others. 

“While that sense of responsibility would make for a great leader in the future…my little brother doesn’t deserve to be loved as half-heartedly as you love him.”

Your heart thumps inside your ribcage as if it was a prison it longs to break free from. Part of you knows you should refute every single thing that Jeonghan just said. It’s what a future princess-consort should do. 

But every time your mind flashes back to that old spring wedding fantasy you conjured up in your hometown, Chan’s lovely smile burns itself into the back of your eyelids.

Wordlessly, Jeonghan goes back to work and you stew in the silence of the library much longer than you have to. It’s only when one of the servants calls both of your attention to have lunch in the dining hall that he speaks again.

“You still have several weeks to make up your mind, little dove,” Jeonghan whispers slowly the moment you both enter the dining hall. It doesn’t help your case when Joshua perks up in his seat at the sight of you walking inside with his older brother like he hasn’t given you an ultimatum right then and there. 

“Make sure each one counts.”

You don’t really receive letters from Chan anymore.

He’s stopped sending them together after you last met him in the orphanage. Your father explained that he’s been entrusted with several tasks both in and out of the Academy and that those take up most of his time. 

You want to tell him that your best friend never once missed a letter even during those hellish days he spent in the southern cities, but in the end, you decide to keep your silence.

Thoughts about letters that won’t come are the last thing on your mind when winter falls upon the kingdom. The preparations are in full swing despite the fact that there’s still a month left before the wedding itself and because you refuse to be a sitting duck that lets everyone do all the work, you decide to contribute every now and again.

But even if there’s a sense of accomplishment in being able to help around, this season has always been your least favorite. 

You’re a mage who practices with plants and flowers alike, so it’s only natural for you to feel under the weather this time around. The fact that you’ve scarcely gotten to practice your magic ever since you set foot in the capital does little in contributing to your peace of mind as well.

Your hometown is teeming with plant life that you could nurture with the simplest spells. Inside the stone walls and marble floors of the royal castle, there’s barely anything that requires your constant care. 

It’s a given that royals tend to avoid relying on magic for all matters concerning the regency. You were taught that cleverness and wit are the two things that will keep you alive among the foreign courts of other kingdoms and that things like magic can be entrusted to the royal mages instead.

But all it takes is a withering winter to make you realize that you don’t want your magic—the very core of who you are—to dwindle into nothingness.

It’s for that reason that you find yourself heading over to the castle gardens despite the fact that you promised Sakura that you’d start practicing for matrimonial dance with your usual instructor this afternoon. The sun has barely peeked beyond the clouds these days, but you’re convinced that you’ll at least find comfort in the flowers that grew sparsely inside.

There, you find Joshua crouched next to a shrub of carnations.

He’s dressed down today—comfortably enough to let you know that he doesn’t have any plans for the meantime. Your fiancé is examining each bloom with such rapt attention, you’re convinced he didn’t even notice your arrival. 

Surely enough, as you take the first step to approach him, he rises back to his full height—turning around with a vibrant carnation in his hand.

Everyone inside the castle uses their magic so infrequently that you sometimes forget that you and Joshua share the same elemental affinity. Maybe that’s the reason it was so easy for you to get along with him for the past eleven months. 

But you know better than most that there’s more to it than just that.

“You’ve been very busy lately,” Joshua comments with an easygoing smile. “I barely see you these days.”

You sigh, tucking your cardigan closer to your form. “If I’m not helping with the wedding preparations, I’m holed up in my bedchambers. I…don’t really like winters.”

“Neither do I,” he chuckles. “But my duties won’t stop just because I loathe the cold. I’m sure you understand that well.”

The quiet settles over the both of you like a blanket of snow—making you wonder how you used to deal with long winters in the past. 

Then you remember a boy who’s always brought warmth in your life without even trying. Nights spent sleeping in front of the fireplace, tucked in the warmth of his body no matter how harsh the blizzards could be. Collective yearning for the day the snow finally melts and spring returns with a flowery smile. 

But that’s the thing—it’s all in the past.

“Can I…ask you something?”

The hesitation in Joshua’s words makes you stare at him pensively. 

He always sounds sure of himself. Attractively confident. Not in a way that others would find obnoxious, but the complete opposite. There’s a reason why Joshua is so loved in his own kingdom yet right now, you’re starting to see the cracks forming on his gentlemanly demeanor. 

“What is it?” you murmur softly despite dread slowly sinking its claws into your skin.

Joshua tilts his head up to the overcast sky like he’s wondering if it’s going to snow today. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply before meeting your eyes again.

“Are you certain you still want to go through with the wedding?”

This…oddly feels like the time you found Jeonghan in the library. The guilt you’ve been harboring for the longest time festers at the implications of his question and you wonder if everything you’ve worked so hard on for the past year will come crashing down today.

“Of course,” you tell him but you’re well aware Joshua knows a lie when he hears it. 

“Really?”

“Is there something specific that you wish for me to say?”

He sighs—the cold starting to materialize with each breath. “No, nothing in particular.”

“It’s just that I believe it would be unfair of me to impose marriage when your heart already belongs to someone else.”

The water running from the fountain is all that plagues your ears yet Joshua’s admission doesn’t evoke the visceral reaction you had to Jeonghan telling you nearly the same thing. Hearing the words come from your fiancé’s mouth doesn’t instill you with guilt.

No… This is something much closer to acceptance.

“I once thought that your time in the castle would give enough leeway for us to get to know each other better,” he continues with a sad smile. “And it did. I’m certain that we’re much closer now than we were a year ago. But… I was a fool to think I could ever get you to love me the same way you love him.”

You’re immediately seized with the need to placate him somehow. After all, you were taught that it’s a wife’s duty to ease her husband’s troubles should he confide in her.

But you’re not Joshua’s wife. 

(And from how this conversation is going, you might never be.)

All of a sudden, something that Jeonghan said to you in the library resurfaces in your mind. At the time, you were too frustrated with him to actually process the words, but suddenly all of it makes sense.

I suppose it’s an older brother’s job to cater to the fantasy until he sees things for how they are on his own.

“You’ve known all this time,” you tell him incredulously. “Why… Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think that you were obligated to love me for my sake. That’s something that should never be imposed,” he murmurs, twirling the flower in his hands almost wistfully. “I assumed that…maybe if I just gave you enough time, it would come to you naturally. But sometimes things just don’t work out the way you thought and that’s okay.”

If you weren’t trembling in your shoes a minute ago, you certainly are now.

“Joshua,” you whisper. “What are you saying?”

The smile on his face never wavers even as he crosses the distance between you and pulls you into a sound embrace. It catches you off guard for a second because Joshua has never initiated this kind of contact during your entire stay. 

But even with the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the fact that your mind immediately compares it to how it feels to have Chan’s heat permeating your skin…

It only means that this engagement is as good as over.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Joshua whispers back—one hand smoothing across your hair as he holds you in place. “For giving yourself the chance to love me. For being selfless enough to do everything you’ve done so far. I used to admire your self-sacrificing tendencies, but…

“Now I’m sure it’s high time that you chose yourself for a change.”

You don’t know when the tears started to fall, but you find comfort in the crook of Joshua’s neck as you sob into his arms. He doesn’t say a word as you let it out—all the years you spent looking after others, putting their wellbeing first before your own.

You’ve gotten so accustomed to taking responsibility for everyone around you that it never really occurred to you that things don’t have to be that way.

You’re allowed to choose yourself. You’re allowed to be selfish. 

“Go,” Joshua murmurs against the crown of your head. “Go back home. You deserve as much.”

You look up at him, sniffling. “B-But the wedding—”

“There won’t be a wedding,” he reassures with the same sad smile that breaks your heart to see. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll explain the situation to everyone. Right now…you have to go because your father informed me that he’s leaving soon.”

As if you haven’t already been given enough to deal with in a single day, you feel like an anvil has been dropped into the pit of your stomach.

“What do you mean?” 

“Lee Jung Chan was assigned to travel to another reputable magic school on the other side of the continent to build an alliance with the Academy,” Joshua explains swiftly. “He leaves tonight and won’t come back in a long, long while depending on how the initial negotiations turn out.”

An alliance…? 

Is that what he’s been so preoccupied with these days? So much that he can’t even spare the time to write to you anymore?

Before the next bout of tears could spill from your eyes, Joshua calmingly tucks a loose tuft of your hair behind your ear. He looks at you with so much adoration and longing that you briefly entertain the possibility of you loving him unconditionally in another life.

You hope he’ll be happier there.

“There’s a carriage waiting for you at the gates of the capital,” Joshua says. “Leave now while you still have time.”

You want to say something. To apologize to him. To thank him. To tell him that he deserves the world and much, much more. 

But all you do is slide off the diamond engagement ring from your finger, handing it to Joshua with an apologetic look before bolting to the castle entrance—not even sparing him a single word in goodbye.

Venues? Wedding gowns? Invitations? None of these mattered anymore.

Not when you're about to lose your best friend—the love of your life.

Joshua tries not to think about how your hand looked now that it was devoid of his gift; how all that remained is a promise ring that he should’ve taken as a sign to give up a long time ago. 

Just as he hears the commotion stirring down the winding halls, Joshua looks up at the sky again. When he closes his eyes, he feels the first few snowflakes land on his face—cold and solitary, much like himself.

Even so...

You broke his heart in the middle of winter, yet Joshua still looks forward to the flowery smile of spring.

The moment you arrived at your hometown, you weren’t sure where to start looking. For one, the coachman who brought you here said that your father was out of town for undisclosed reasons. You couldn’t exactly march up to the headmaster’s office in the Academy to interrogate him about Chan’s whereabouts. 

That’s why you opted to start with your best friend’s house openly greeted by his mother with a shocked expression as she asks what on earth you were doing so far away from the royal capital.

“Uh, it’s a long story,” you tell her sheepishly as you try not to shiver too much from the cold. “I promise I’ll keep you up to speed, but for now I really need to find Chan.”

She hesitates for a moment and you chalk it up to the fact that Chan’s mother must be thinking she’s going to have a hand in something illegal if she helps you. After all, she’s always had good instincts when either you or her son were up to no good.

But you tell yourself that this is probably the most good you’ve done for yourself in a long, long time. 

In the end, she directs you to the Academy—saying something about Chan wanting to deal with a few things first before he leaves. With just half an hour until nightfall, several students can be seen walking out of the gates after a long day. Some just pass by you without a word, while others throw second glances over their shoulder—as if they couldn’t believe that you’re back either. 

You recognize those kids to be some of your former students, but you can’t bring yourself to stop for a quick chat—simply hoping they’ll forgive you for your haste.

But through the thundering of your heart, you hear a familiar voice call your name in the crowd.

“You’re back!" Chaewon remarks with a delightful gasp before tackling you with a firm embrace. “Why didn’t you tell us you were visiting? Did you bring Prince Joshua with—?”

“Chaewon, where’s Chan?” you interject almost desperately.

Your old student blinks up at you, rightfully confused. “Um, he’s going on a trip for a while. Yunjin told me just now that she saw the other royal mages that gathered here leave on their horses an hour ago. Why? Did you need something from him?”

The news makes you feel like your head has been submerged in murky waters—cloying your senses until you could no longer make sense of what’s around you. Chaewon flashes you a disconcerted look, asking if everything is alright. 

You want to tell her that you’re fine, but you can’t find the words. Your mouth feels cottony and your eyes are starting to sting. Instead of answering, you turn on your heel, biting down the guilt that comes with dismissing one of your favorite students as you run towards the opposite direction.

Chaewon calls out for you several times, but you don’t look back.

Maybe you should just head back to the castle and tell Joshua that this was all a mistake—a lapse in judgment that can still be taken back. You should just see your assimilation through until the end. You’ve already made it so far, after all.

But you just know, deep in your gut, that Joshua wouldn’t accept that so easily. He made it clear that he wants you to want him with no holds barred. Not because you feel responsible for his feelings. Not because the love of your life has already left. That’s just who he is as a person.

Not wanting to burst into tears for the second time today, you find yourself walking towards the greenhouse—craving that familiar solace you always get whenever you’re inside. Your father told you he was going to keep an eye on it while you were gone and you figure that he’d been telling the truth when you find the enclosure just as you’ve left it. 

Several of your personal experiments seem like someone enchanted them with time suspension magic—looking the exact way they did before you left almost a year ago. Among the other plants and flora are other pieces you don’t recognize. You figure that these must be Chaewon’s work and you remind yourself to compliment her once you sort yourself out. 

But when you don’t spot a certain plant box you were looking for, a frown roots itself on your face.

Did Chan move your forget-me-nots somewhere else? The vibrant blue flowers should’ve been easy to spot even amidst the lush blooms all around you, but there’s nothing like that in the vicinity. 

You take your search outside for reasons unknown. Perhaps it’s the restlessness of just staying in one place when you know the very symbol of your promise with your best friend is nowhere to be found. As you make your way out, you glance at the single flower sitting at the base of your pinky—sadly wondering if Chan is even still wearing his. 

But the moment you make it to the back of the greenhouse, you’re much too stunned with the sight that beholds you.

What once was a vacant patch of grasslands is now filled to the brim with forget-me-nots that glow vibrantly in comparison to the bleak gray winter. Despite the drop in temperature, the field of blue flowers stretches on until the borders of the Academy and you have to pinch yourself and make sure you’re not dreaming. 

Then, as if this situation can’t get any more unbelievable, you spot someone crouched in the middle of the field of forget-me-nots.

Your best friend.

Chan doesn’t immediately notice you—seemingly lost in thought, just like the day you found him by the riverbanks a year ago. For someone that’s leaving on an indefinite trip to the other side of the continent, he surely doesn’t look dressed the part, having opted for his comfortable cotton tunic and trousers instead of the garbs royal mages and aides are required to don.

You don’t think twice. You just run.

He lets out an undignified yelp when you tackle him into the ground—palms heating up with a flare of his magic with the full intention of blasting away the intruder. But when he finds his best friend lying right on top of him amidst the forget-me-nots, he’s engulfed with a different kind of heat entirely.

“You asshole,” you hiss with teary eyes, beating your fists weakly against his chest. “You’re going away for a long time and you didn’t even bother to tell me? Am I suddenly not your best friend anymore?”

There’s nothing more that Chan hates than seeing you cry, but he loathes it even more when he’s the cause of your tears. He doesn’t even know if you’re actually here with him. You should be back at the royal castle, preparing for your wedding and not sobbing because of your best friend.

But the warmth of your body nestled on top of his own is much too real. It’s the same sensation he’s craved since you left. The same feeling he’s always longed for, for as long as he can remember. 

And he’s not such a glutton for punishment that he’ll deprive himself of it any longer.

Chan cracks a barely there smile, the breath of his laughter materializing in front of him as he reaches up to tuck your hair behind your ear. He’s not sure if your face flushes because of him or the cold, but he likes to think it’s the former.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, opting to save his many questions for later. “Dunno how you found out about the trip, but I backed out of it last minute. Told the headmaster that I’m not the best with negotiations and that I might unknowingly start a war in the process.”

He half-expects you to either laugh in his face despite the clearly distraught expression you’re wearing or fume at him for being so ridiculous. You probably made the trip from the capital to your hometown just to see him off and he’ll understand your frustration at the fact that his participation was rendered null and void.

But you do neither of these things.

Instead, you curl your fingers into the fabric of his shirt—pulling him up and leaning forward at the same time. 

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about kissing Chan at least once in your life. But you can attest to the fact that you didn’t imagine it to happen while you’re freshly broken up from a year-long engagement—snowflakes starting to fall in the field of flowers you asked him to take care of.

Those he promised to take care of.

“I love you,” you whisper breathlessly, hands trembling from where they grip Chan’s clothes as you force your breathing to even out. “I’ve always loved you and I’m the biggest idiot in the world for not accepting that sooner.”

Chan gazes up at you in stunned silence, lips moving as if meaning to say something in return but the words evade him. But just when you’re about to emphasize your point again, Chan raises an arm to  shield his eyes with the back of his hand.

“You’re lying,” he chuckles almost helplessly. “You’ve got to be messing with me.”

A scowl stretches across your lips. How could that be his first reaction? You thought he’d be elated that you came back and professed your feelings. 

But then you entertain the possibility that…what if you’ve read the entire situation wrong? What if Chan never had any feelings of the romantic kind for you at all?

What if you risked everything for nothing?

“Lee Jung Chan,” you whisper threateningly. “I left the Crown Prince himself in a heartbeat when I found out you were going away. Made the entire trip from the capital to here just for the slim chance of seeing you before you left. I even kissed you outside in the middle of winter because I was so fucking glad that you’re here to stay. If that isn’t genuine enough for you, then what else do you want me to do?” 

Your best friend lowers his hand and you try not to waver at the sight of his puffy red eyes. He sucks in a deep breath that almost whistles down his throat before taking one of your hands and lifting it closer to his face.

At the base of your pinky is the same ring he’s never once taken off since you gave it to him.

As night falls and the endless snow falls upon your hometown, two lone figures in a field full of flowers remain undisturbed in their lonesome. 

For some, love is something you don’t give half-heartedly. For others, it should never be imposed.

For you, it’s a whirlwind of emotions that you could never quite figure out how to deal with.

Yet when it comes to Lee Jung Chan, you realize that love has always been easy.

“Chan,” you sigh into the cold air of his bedroom as your best friend peppers your neck with kisses much too heated than you expected. “S-Slow down a little.”

He breathes out a laugh that sounds much too airy for your liking. Chan detaches his lips from your skin as he flashes you a gummy smile. “Slow down? I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. I don’t think I can slow down anymore, princess.”

You have to fight the urge to hit him with his choice of words. “Act any more cheeky and I’m walking out of your house.”

“Duly noted.” 

Then his mouth is back on yours. 

The trip back to Chan’s house—a new, one bedroom apartment near the town square, not his mother’s house—was a bit tricky. For one, you had to walk around where virtually everyone knows you to be Prince Joshua’s fiancée, answering questions about what you’re doing back home with the wedding coming up so close. 

You keep your answers curt and short—not wanting to ignite the scandal of a lifetime before Joshua can even prepare the ample damage control. That and each time someone mentions how happy they are for your engagement, you can feel Chan’s eyes boring into the back of your head. 

So now you’re here, crowded beneath your best friend on his mattress as he kisses your breath away. 

You’ve never done this before. The most daring thing you’ve done with Joshua, who was literally your fiancé for almost a year, was that last hug you shared before you left the castle for good. So you suppose no one can blame you for feeling so lightheaded from the feel of Chan’s lips pressed against yours alone.

It doesn’t help that, even through his desperation to leave no space between the two of you, there’s still caution weighted beneath his desire. He could probably sense the hesitation in your movements as you reciprocate his vigor—kissing back almost awkwardly despite how good his kisses are making you feel. 

“Open your mouth a little for me,” he murmurs, one hand cradling your jaw as you let out a little whimper. “Come on, don’t get shy on me now. I promise you’ll like it.”

Not wanting to keep either of you waiting for much longer, you do as you’re told—opening your mouth just a tad wider right after Chan kisses you again. He easily muffles the gasp you make with his lips when you feel his tongue lick into your mouth. The sensation makes gooseflesh prickle your arms and he coaxes out another embarrassing noise from you—one too salacious for others to hear freely.

“See? What’d I tell you?” he whispers breathlessly against your lips—a strong arm coiling around your waist as he pulls you against his body. “You like it that much?”

You nod meekly. Chan laughs.

“I wanna try something. Hold on.”

Confused, you watch your best friend take a spot beside you on his bed, legs sprawled across the mattress as he tugs you closer to him. You resist his ministrations for a moment as you try to figure out what on earth he’s planning to do. But then it dawns on you. 

He wants you to sit on his lap.

“Too much?” he asks with a hint of caution, to which you quickly respond with a shake of your head. 

“Just…surprising,” you admit as you settle your hips across his thighs. 

You kind of want to ask where he even learned about all this, but part of you doesn’t want to know the answer. Picturing Chan lying with someone else like this is enough to kill your mood, so you decide to push the thought far away until you could no longer remember it.

Despite how…strange and new this is to you, it’s much more comfortable than having his weight press you down into the mattress. Not to mention, you can just brace your hands on Chan’s shoulders as he licks further into your mouth—fingers laced behind the small of your back as you continue whimpering into his kisses.

Gods above. Will you even get out of this alive?

“You taste so sweet,” Chan murmurs before carding his fingers through your hair. “Much better than I imagined.”

You find it in you to chuckle in spite of yourself. “You’ve been imagining this?”

“Enough times to grant me admission to an asylum,” your best friend replies with a sigh as he continues combing your tresses. “I’m crazy about you, if that isn’t obvious enough. Wanted to kiss you so bad back in the orphanage when you leaned in way too close.”

You didn’t know it at the time, but looking back at it now, you definitely felt the same. Now you’re not sure whether or not you should treat Joshua’s untimely entrance in the kitchen that day as a miracle or a curse. 

“I did too,” you profess with little hesitation, tracing the curve of his lips with your thumb before resting your forehead against his. “We’re so stupid. If only we admitted our feelings earlier, we wouldn’t be in such a huge mess.”

Chan hums. “You mean…if I just spoke up when you got Prince Joshua’s proposal, you would’ve rejected it?”

“Of course I would,” you nearly exclaim. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, Chan.”

“Ditto. Guess we have lots of missed time to make up for.”

When he claims your lips again, it’s charged with want so potent you can almost taste it on your tongue. Chan presses your body even closer to his, if that’s even possible and as he continues building up the fever pitch of your desire, you start to shift uncomfortably on his lap—slick beginning to pool between your thighs the deeper he kisses you. 

The evidence of his own arousal pokes against your middle as well—leaving Chan a groaning mess each time you unknowingly jerk your hips to chase after the barest hint of friction. You don’t know where all this will lead nor do you know what comes after.

All that matters is that Chan is with you right here, right now.

Your clothes all come off one by one. Chan doesn’t forget to drag his lips across every inch of newly exposed skin—a quiet, unrelenting profession of his feelings. He wants to engrave himself into every part of you; to leave his mark so that you’ll remember him still even if he only gets to have you for the night.

But what Chan just doesn’t get is that your heart has already been set on him since the start.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispers, trailing his calloused fingers along the sensitive curve of your waist when he lays you down on your back. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t like.”

It’s so Chan of him to be this concerned about your boundaries. But you don’t know how else to say that you want nothing more than to take things all the way aside from tugging him back down for another breathtaking kiss.

“Is it going to hurt?” you ask, genuinely curious, just a tad bit afraid.

Your best friend purses his lips, the heat of his body offering you some much needed comfort as he plants another kiss on the corner of your mouth. “It will for a while. But I’ll ease you into it and make you feel good. I promise.”

Chan says the words like you have anything but trust in him. You know he needs a verbal confirmation out of you, but you’re both too embarrassed and too aroused to give him the green light out loud. Instead, you nod your head twice—leaning closer to his ear to whisper:

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Your best friend sighs out something that suspiciously sounds like gods, I love you, before burying his face in your exposed chest—lips latching onto one of the pert nipples as he massages your other breast languidly. The wet sound of his mouth getting to work makes your face flush several shades of red and your sex to leak even more slick than it already has. 

There’s just something so arousing about how careful Chan is with your body. He handles you like you’re the most precious thing in the world and throws your mind into an inexplicable haze.

But then again, maybe you’re just that in love with the guy.

You visibly tense underneath his touch when you feel him start to prod his fingers along your glistening seam. You’re so sensitive that you twitch from the slightest contact and Chan sighs a laugh into your chest when he feels it.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “I can’t make you feel good if you’re too high-strung.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff. “You’re not the one who’s about to be fucked into oblivion.”

Chan startles from how easily the words fall from your lips—mouth agape like a fish out of water. You wonder if you said something out of turn but when he kisses you for the millionth time today, you notice something else eclipsing his ready set gentleness.

Something more carnal.

“You can’t rile me up by talking so filthily like that,” he whispers hoarsely. “I’m trying to be a good lover by taking things slow. Promise you won’t catch me off guard like that again?”

You shake your head with a laugh. “Chan, you know I don’t make promises I can’t keep. But I'll try~”

“Fuck. Alright. I can work with that.”

When he eases a finger inside your awaiting heat, you find the sensation a little uncomfortable. It’s like having something inside you that doesn’t quite belong there. Chan analyzes your reactions in the silence as he continues prodding your entrance—looking for any signs of discomfort like a hawk as he experimentally thrusts that single digit in and out of you.

“F-Feels weird,” you mumble. “Is it supposed to feel weird?”

“I guess you’d feel that way if it was your first time,” he chuckles and your eyes narrow at the implication behind his words. “But I’ve got to loosen you up if I don’t want to hurt you.”

So this wasn’t his first after all. Though you want nothing more than to hear tales about former escapades, you decide to grill him about it later. 

You’re about to question how something like this can do that before Chan robs you of your capacity to think coherently, curling his slender finger inside you until he brushes a spot that has your muscles spasming underneath him. A wicked smile finds its way to his face as he slips in another finger so easily—the pads grazing that sensitive patch of flesh to coax out the same reaction from you.

“Still weird?” he laughs. 

“Good…” you whimper, grinding your hips shamelessly into his hand. “Feels so good, Chan.” 

Your best friend sighs as he watches you slowly cross the threshold between awkward curiosity and the beginnings of an enjoyable time. You’re wet and wanting—just like how he hoped you’d be and the way your tight walls clench around his fingers barely tempers the raw anticipation that sizzles in his veins. 

Gentle. He needs to be gentle. 

He doesn’t want to lose control when he’s waited oh-so long for this moment.

But god fucking damn are you making it so hard when you’re moaning so prettily for him.

“C-Chan,” you mewl and he feels you tighten even more around his digits. “It feels weird again… Like something’s coming.”

He sucks in a sharp breath before pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. The sensation makes you buck further into his hand and Chan can only do so much to keep himself from just fucking you into the bed.

“Let go,” he tells you before flicking his thumb across your puffy clit. “Let it all go, beautiful. Don’t be scared. I’m right here.”

The newfound stimulation blindsides you in a way you didn’t expect—reducing you into a mumbling mess of arousal beneath your best friend as he continues tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub. Your first (of many) orgasms crashes over you like a tidal wave and you sigh out his name so needily, he can barely contain himself for much longer. 

But he doesn’t rush you no matter how pent up he is—he won’t, he won’t, he won’t. 

Besides, the sight of you so fucked out from taking his fingers alone—lips parted, chest heaving, eyes pulling in and out of focus—is a reward in and of itself. 

“You still with me?” your best friend checks in with a concerned look, wiping the sweat that beads across your forehead with the back of his hand. 

But the moment his skin makes contact with yours again, you absentmindedly grab his hand—pressing a soft kiss on his knuckles.

“I’ll always be with you.”

Gods above. He doesn’t deserve you.

When he’s sure you’re ready, Chan positions himself right before your entrance—carefully nudging your thighs apart as he fists the angry red erection he’s been sporting all night. The sight of his cock makes you blush, but you figure there’s no point in acting coy now that you’ve made it this far.

“You know what to do when I do something you don’t like, right?” 

You nod—not really hearing the words with how transfixed you are on other things. “Y-Yes.”

Chan offers up a lazy smile. “That’s my girl.”

You take all of him inch by unbearable inch—your walls meeting the stretch that his girth offers with mild resistance. His fingers are child’s play compared to this and you force yourself to power through it despite how it burns. 

Of course, Chan doesn’t miss a beat despite how hard you try to conceal your discomfort.

“I’m hurting you, aren’t I?” he asks with an apologetic smile, wiping the tears that are pooling in the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry. Just a bit more and you’ll get used to it.”

“You promise?”

Your best friend brings an outstretched pinky close to your face—the same pinky with the ring that started all of this staring back at you. The moment you hook your own finger around his, your best friend murmurs:

“I promise.”

Chan is quite patient despite the fact that he’s balls-deep inside of you—keeping the innate desire to just ram his length into you until you’re a sobbing, crying mess for him. The Academy’s best graduate, the kingdom’s sweetheart, his perfect best friend. All reduced to tears on his cock.

“Chan,” you breathe in deeply, having finally accustomed yourself to how he stretches you out. “Y-You can move now.”

Shit. You sound so shy, so innocent.

How could he not give you what you want?

The first outward drag of his hips pulls a pretty little whimper out of you and an even prettier moan when he thrusts back in. Chan sighs as he minds the pace he’s set, cradling your face with one hand as he steadies you with the other.

“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a featherlight kiss on your nose. “More than there are stars in the sky, more than how many flowers you’ll ask me to look after while you’re gone.”

His sweet words are subverted with a harsh thrust that he does experimentally to see how you’d react to it. When Chan doesn’t see any indication of pain or dislike, he repeats it—again and again until he can feel you coating his length in the slick of your leaking arousal. 

“Feels so fucking good around me,” he rasps, keeping himself from biting into your shoulder because he isn’t sure of how you feel about those kinds of marks just yet. “Perfect… You’re so, so perfect. I’ve never loved anyone else as much as I love you.”

It feels a bit worrisome, admitting all this in the heat of it all. Chan fears that you would find his words a tad disingenuous. For all he knows, you’re thinking that it’s your wonderful cunt making him say all these sweet nothings. 

But you’re too far gone yourself to even think about the specifics.

“Deeper,” you beg, lacing your fingers around his neck as more tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “Need to feel you deeper, Chan.”

You’re going to be the death of him—this he’s finally sure of.

The fat head of his cock batters your poor, abused pussy with the vigor of someone who’s been waiting for you all his life. Chan babbles out a mantra of compliments and praise all strung together in a haze of pleasurable delirium as your nails start to rake across his back. 

“Want you to be mine forever,” he sighs against your lips—his hot breath fanning against your face. “Can I have you? For the rest of my life?”

Even in the throes of passion, the answer comes to you so easily.

“I’m yours,” you cry out as he angles his cock just right and grazes the spot that makes you see stars. “I’m yours, Chan. Always yours. Forever yours.”

Your mind crumbles as your release crests out of nowhere—coherence draining from every recess of your mind while Chan fucks you through your high. He snaps his hips unforgivingly as he chases his own orgasm. His fingers leave red imprints on your thighs with how firmly they dig into your supple flesh and they stay there even when he finally pinpoints his release. 

The two of you collapse onto the mattress with shallow breaths, sweat-slicked skin sticking to each other with how close your bodies are. When your mind finally returns to the shores of reality, you dare to crack your eyes open—only to see your best friend looking back at you with a tired smile.

This is the man who saw you cry over a stick fort that he accidentally stepped on when you were kids. 

The one who thinks you’re still pretty even when your face is rife with tears and snot.

The one who skips stones with you in the river at sunset. 

The one who keeps you warm by the fireplace during every winter.

The one who defended you from classmates who accused you of being a fraud that rode on her father’s coattails. 

The one you’ll gladly spend the rest of your life with.

You think you should find it strange how Joshua suddenly comes to mind now that you’re finally where you want to be. But if it weren’t for him, you never would’ve gotten that final push to be selfish—to choose yourself for once and not feel any ounce of remorse for doing so.

If it weren’t for him, you never would’ve felt what true happiness feels like.

“So…” your best friend starts as he pulls a blanket over your naked bodies. “For tonight’s pillow talk, you get to decide the topic of interest.”

You snort. “Okay. What are my choices?”

“Hm. The first is: what are we going to do now that we’re together-together when the entire kingdom still thinks you’re still Prince Joshua’s fiancé? You still owe me a story about how the engagement fell through, by the way. Unless I’m actually a homewrecker…?”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully slap his chest. “What’s the second option?”

He grins at you cheekily. “What pet names can I use on you while we’re having sex because…I honestly held back the entire time ‘cause I didn’t know what you were comfortable with.”

“I don’t really mind anything,” you say. “Just…nothing too degrading?” 

“Alright.” Chan nods. “What do you say about lovebug?”

The suggestion is met with a scowl, making Chan giggle underneath the covers.

“Not a fan? How about my little dew drop? My chrysalis blooming into a beautiful butterfly? My hundred year-old tree that never ceases to amaze me with your beauty? My spectacle in an endless galaxy? My—”

“Lee Jung Chan, if you don’t shut up right now, I might just march back to the capital right this moment after all.”

Chan responds to your threat with a needy whine as he cages you around his arms. Your best friend nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck with a sulky pout.

“No! You’re mine. I don’t care if everyone else thinks otherwise.” He huffs and you entertain him with a laugh before Chan eventually disentangles himself from you—the playful expression on his face morphing into something more sobering.

“I was serious about the first pillow talk suggestion, by the way,” he murmurs. “Once the news breaks out, it isn’t going to be easy for any of us.” 

“I know.”

Chan raises an eyebrow at your nonchalance. “Hm? You’re usually the type to psych yourself out way too much when problems like this arise. Who are you and what did you do to my worrywart of a best friend?”

Paying his teasing no mind, you lean in to press your lips to his. The moment Chan’s shoulders sink in surrender, you smile against his mouth.

“Honestly? I don’t really care about what happens,” you admit, tracing the outline of his chest with your finger. “As long as I’m with you, I think we’ll be alright.”

Chan is quiet for a while—a loving look glazing over his eyes at the sight of you.

“Yeah.” 

Your best friend presses another kiss to your temple, lacing your fingers together.

Two forget-me-nots finally find their way back to each other. 

“We’ll be alright.”

⟢ end notes: and that concludes the longest oneshot i've ever written for a seventeen member :') honestly considered breaking this into parts, but decided not to in the end bcs telling their story in one go felt like the best way to go about it! shoutouts to my good buddies and pals from svthub for the constant support and pep talk they offered while i was writing this monster of a fic. freya, my bridgerton sunbae, and zeta, my favorite wonwoorideul (real), thank you tons for your lovely input <3 your silly comments on the doc always made me smile. ofc i won't forget nana who gave me an...interesting list of pet names chan would unironically use on his s/o lol that said, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy the other fics posted under the spring collab! all writers who contributed poured their hearts into each piece <3

this is part of the secret garden, a svthub spring collab and the it's complicated series!

[spicysix]

📖 + "I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out" prompt w eddie omgomgomg💗 also congrats on 400 angel <33

thank you my loveee 💖💖💖

here comes, hope you like it! (a little dialogue heavy, sorry for that!)

join the celebration!

every day for us, something new

"Gonna make some more popcorn, guys! Get the next one ready," you said, getting up from the couch where you were sitting between Eddie and Argyle.

"Get me another coke, please!" Robin, from the floor, asked.

"Oh, get me another beer, sweetums, will 'ya?" Eddie joined in.

"No one else ask me anything, I don't have hands for more!" you exclaimed before leaving for the kitchen.

Movie nights were routine at this point. After all the trauma and the babysitting and the saving the world, the least you all deserved were some fun nights chilling with your friends. Steve or Nancy would host, you'd all take turns choosing movies for the week, and you'd get together to watch and gossip and just be around each other in non-threatening ways. There was no bond like the one created between life-or-death situations.

Eddie's eyes followed you as you walked out of Steve's living room. Jonathan chuckled.

"What?" Eddie asked and Nancy and Robin groaned in unison.

"You are. So. Dense," Nancy complained.

"I don't think he's dense, I think he's just stupid," Robin completed. Eddie hated how she and Nancy came to sharing a single braincell lately.

"C'mon, let's take it easy on our brochacho. The matters of the heart aren't easy," Argyle said, words all considerate but his smirk was nothing but teasing, and Eddie wanted them all to just shut the fuck up.

There was a loud noise from the kitchen, and Eddie was up on his feet in an instant.

"Don't worry, I'm okay!" you called out before anyone could even say anything, to Eddie's relief, and he sat down again.

All of his friends were looking at him funny. What was this plot against him, honestly?

"What's going on?" he asked, waving his arms around in annoyance.

"Dude. Use a single neuron. You'll understand," Steve advised, letting out a dramatically exhausted sigh.

Eddie just stared back at them, one at a time, for several minutes. Trying to find the answers in one of his friends' eyes, or just hoping to be scary enough to make them tell him at once.

"I can't do this, he's the dumbest man alive," Jonathan said after a long while in silence.

What were you even doing in the kitchen for such a long time? Popcorn gets ready in like, five minutes.

"He's never been in love before, maybe he just doesn't recognize it," Steve pitched in, and he knew that information because Eddie had told him once.

What did it have to do with anything?

"What does being in love has anything to do with this? Who's in love here? No one's in lov-" he started, and then he stopped.

Thought about your smile, and that funny little laugh you saved only for his stupid jokes. The way you'd hug him tighter and longer than everyone else. The way you and Robin shared perfumes, a fragrance he didn't really like much, but on you he'd love - something about the way it'd interact with your natural skin smell, and it intoxicated him in the best of ways. He thought about how soft your skin was, and how he loved when you ran your fingers through his hair. He thought about how he thought about you first thing when he woke up, and he thought about you last thing before sleeping. How he thought about you even when asleep - how he'd dream of you, and him, your hands clasped together, your lips on his.

"Oh my god, I think I'm in love," he muttered.

"Congrats on being the last one to find out," Nancy answered. He just looked at her, freezing, hands trembling a little. "What are you thinking about so much, just go!" She nodded at the kitchen and, once again, Eddie was up on his feet in an instant.

He practically ran to the other room.

"Steve, your cabinets are a nightmare," you said, back turned to the door as you heard steps.

"Not Steve," he said, and you turned to face him. That smile, the one reserved just for him, on your lips.

"Eddie! Here to help me? Does anyone want something else?"

He just shook his head and walked closer to you. Took your hand on his, and your skin was just as soft as he thought about constantly.

"Is everything okay?" you asked.

He nodded, "Yeah, just came to a realization."

"Care to share with the class?" your words all teasing but your smile was nothing but sweet. He wanted to kiss you.

"I want to kiss you," he said out loud.

Your smile grew wider, "Well, do it, then."

And he did. And it was so much better than in his dreams. Yous lips were soft and tasted of whatever soda you were drinking, and your hands craddled his neck and you sure could feel his pulse going a million miles per second. But he didn't care, because you seemed eager for more, tongue poking at his lips and he let you in, and it was like fireworks exploding inside his head. He feelt fuzzy, and warm all over, and the happiest he's ever been. Because he's in love with you, he realized, and he was kissing you and you were kissing him back.

It felt like years before you separated, both panting a little.

"Oh, man, I like you so much," you mumbled, lips still almost pressed to his so he feelt every vibration in each of your words. It tingled him, head to toe, in and out.

"That's my realization," he responded, and you gave him another peck, and another one, and you were kissing him again when you heard steps behind you.

"C'mon, slow lovebirds, where's my damn popcorn? I wanna watch the sequel!" Robin showed up, picked up the popcorn bowl and her coke before leaving again.

You and Eddie laughed, and you gave him another peck, and another one, and you were kissing him again.

Neither of you got to watch much of the sequel.

[dolls-self-ships]

more fanart for “treasure and babes” by @murmaiderii ! I love the scene from the first few chapters where Stanley leaves Ford for dead to sleep next to y/n. I just adore how you write his inner monologue of fighting his demons (horniness)

[kimmie2me]

# 03. Unexpected Partners

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

.....

If you’d had a time machine, you wouldn’t use it for anything noble or selfless—no epic rescue of historical figures, no preventing major disasters. Nope. You’d drag yourself back a month just to shake your wide-eyed, naïve self by the shoulders and scream, "Don’t do it. Find another department. Any other department. Join traffic control. Herd cats. Just don’t end up here."

Because here was Bakugou personal circle of hell. The past few weeks felt like a marathon in which you’d been tripped at the starting line, dragged halfway, and then left to sprint uphill. In the rain. With weighted vests. There was no mercy in Bakugou’s world, only adrenaline and barked orders that carried enough force to knock the confidence right out of your chest.

You learned, fast and furiously, that he wasn’t just tough. He was ruthless, exacting, and demanded perfection with all the warmth of a drill sergeant who hadn’t had coffee. And coffee—you’d learned the hard way—was something that could make or break a morning. There was The Incident when you dared bring him a cup with too much sugar, only to receive a sharp glare and a grumbled, “What, you think I’m ten?” The next thirty minutes were dedicated to sprint drills so intense your calves whimpered for days. All you wanted to do is figure out what the hell his favorite coffee is! Yes, you're still trying..

And yes, you're still failing.

Bakugou’s teaching methods were a combination of trial by fire and sheer terror. He wasn’t interested in your excuses or half-assed answers. If you messed up, you’d know—usually by the clipped way he’d shout, “Run it again,” or the eye twitch that signaled he was two seconds from ripping the folder out of your hands and doing it himself.

It wasn’t just the shouting, though that was certainly a staple. It was the moments he’d watch you with that hawk-eyed stare, arms crossed and expression set like granite. There were no second chances when Bakugou was breathing down your neck; you either got it right or got ready to count pavement cracks while doing your punishment laps. You hadn’t done so many wall sits since training, thighs quivering like jelly by the time he allowed you to stand.

And it wasn’t just you. Anyone who dared step into his path found themselves swept up in the tornado of his expectations. It made surviving the day feel like a badge of honor, if surviving meant stumbling into your apartment with barely enough strength to fling your shoes off.

One time, you’d accidentally jumbled up a lead in a report, swapping suspect descriptions that Bakugou caught in record time. He’d smacked the paper onto your desk with an incredulous look. “D’you even read this before handin’ it in?” And just like that, your next hour was filled with circuits and resistance bands that made your arms feel like spaghetti. “C’mon, rookie, or should I start callin’ you noodle arms?” The jab stuck, and you groaned whenever he brought it up.

Bakugou’s wrath was tempered only by moments of begrudging silence, the rare instances where you met his eyes and thought you saw a flicker of something softer, only to blink and find it gone. Those moments would have been comforting if they weren’t fleeting, crushed by his next tirade over a misplaced document or a missed clue.

But just as you’d started thinking maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew, a case dropped that pulled everyone into high gear: a string of burglaries, each more calculated than the last. No dumb luck, no rookie mistakes would fly with this one. Bakugou’s tension was palpable, a crackle in the air whenever he entered the room. He’d pace with his hands shoved into his pockets, muttering curses and theories under his breath like the case had insulted him personally.

Your nerves spiked with each passing day. Bakugou was more relentless than ever, orders flung out faster than you could grab your notebook. And if you so much as hesitated? He’d turn, eyes gleaming like a predator scenting blood. “Keep up, or get out.”

By the time you wrapped up that week’s legwork, you weren’t sure whether to feel accomplished or absolutely wrecked. Bakugou had pushed every ounce of strength and patience from your body, leaving you hollowed out and aching. Yet, for some reason you’d yet to understand, you kept coming back, stepping into the precinct with a quiet determination that only grew as his glare followed you like a challenge.

Time machine, you reminded yourself, scribbling down notes that were half-legible from your shaking hand. You’d go back, find yourself, and whisper conspiratorially, Choose desk duty. It’ll save your soul.

But you didn’t have a time machine. You had Bakugou. And you were starting to suspect he might just make a detective out of you, whether you survived him or not.

.....

The burglaries had started small—a string of break-ins that barely made the back page of the city’s morning paper. But each successive hit grew bolder, more precise, like the thief was taunting the force. By the time it hit their radar, Chief Yagi’s usually calm expression had hardened to steel, and even the more seasoned detectives were exchanging wary glances.

For you, it meant one thing: Bakugou was operating at maximum intensity, his usual scowl deepened to something almost carved from stone. It was an energy you could feel in the air, like the static before a lightning strike. And with that, the pace of your life turned from grueling to almost impossible. Long days blurred into longer nights, the fluorescent lights above burning into your skull as you combed through reports with squinting eyes and a splitting headache. The precinct buzzed with anticipation and tension, everyone bracing for the storm.

You sat at your desk, meticulously cross-referencing suspect details when Bakugou stormed in, clipboard in one hand and the other pressed into his hip like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it entirely. He glanced around the room, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade, before they settled on you. The air shifted.

“Rookie,” he barked, and you jumped, nearly dropping your pen. He didn’t wait for you to recover before launching into his rapid-fire speech. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once. The pattern’s changed. Our thief’s not just hittin’ high-value targets anymore—they’re goin’ after places with tech infrastructure. Means they’re not just lookin’ for loot—they’re diggin’ for data, and if we don’t get ahead, we’re gonna be two steps behind with our heads up our—”

He paused, jaw tightening like he was biting back an insult, and then leaned down, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes were an inferno, daring you to miss a word. “You listening?”

You nodded so fast it was a wonder your neck didn’t cramp, scribbling down notes as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did—at least, your peace of mind surely did. Bakugou’s tone wasn’t just demanding; it was drilled into your skull, searing in its urgency.

“Good. Now, look—”

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!!”

The voice sliced through the room like a record scratch, shattering Bakugou’s hyper-focused tension into a thousand jagged pieces. He physically recoiled, straightening up so fast you’d think he’d been stung. Your pen stilled mid-word, eyes flicking between him and the newcomer with an internal "?!?!?!?!" blaring in neon letters.

Kacchan?

There, standing at the threshold of the precinct like he’d wandered in by accident, was Detective Midoriya Izuku, all soft smiles and bright green eyes. He gave a little wave as if Bakugou wasn’t seconds away from launching into orbit.

“Kacchan, hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Midoriya’s tone was impossibly cheerful, and the nickname fell from his lips like it was a greeting between best friends. But from the way Bakugou’s hands twitched, it may as well have been a bomb dropped into a room full of dynamite.

Bakugou’s response was instantaneous, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell’re you doin’ here, Deku?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of computers and a detective a few desks over clearing their throat awkwardly. Your heart thumped in your chest as if it was trying to escape the awkwardness, and you glanced at Midoriya, expecting him to shrink back. But he didn’t—his smile wavered, sure, but he held his ground, eyes earnest.

“I’m here to help with the case,” Midoriya explained, and it took everything in you not to whip your head around. Help? With your case?

Bakugou’s reaction was as explosive as you expected. “Help? You—”

But before he could finish, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, boys.” Chief Yagi’s voice was firm as he walked in, flanked by another man who exuded calm authority—the infamous Chief Aizawa Shouta. His tired eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene with a raised brow.

“Chief Aizawa and his team are joining us for this operation. And that includes Detective Midoriya.” Chief Yagi’s tone left no room for argument.

Bakugou’s jaw set so tight you could hear the grind of teeth. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the past few weeks had been like? They were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

…

You barely had time to absorb Midoriya’s, let alone Cheif Aizawa's, sudden appearance before Chief Yagi called everyone into the briefing room. This would’ve been a regular meeting for the higher-ups—the kind you’d usually only hear about when Bakugou came out, slamming the door behind him, face redder than the emergency exit signs. But today, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you were summoned along. Because apparently, if Bakugou was involved, you were involved.

The briefing room was already filling up, the thick scent of coffee and paper lingering in the air as officers shuffled in, muttering greetings and speculations under their breath. Chief Yagi took his place at the head of the room, looking as solid and unyielding as ever, while Chief Aizawa leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, observing the room with the detached but alert gaze of a cat watching a busy street. Midoriya slid into a chair near the front, shooting you a small, encouraging smile. Bakugou, in contrast, looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

Then, in strode Officer Ashido Mina, bright as a firecracker, with Officer Sero Hanta close behind her, both exuding a casual confidence that somehow didn’t feel out of place even in a room of high-stakes professionals. Mina shot a finger-gun wave at the room, winking in your direction before taking a seat across from Midoriya. Sero plopped down beside her, his grin almost lazy but eyes sharp, taking in everything at once.

Chief Yagi’s voice brought the room to order. “Alright, everyone, this joint task force is in place because the burglaries have escalated. We’re dealing with a team of thieves targeting secure information in addition to high-value assets. The leads point to a complex operation, and that’s where our collaboration comes in.”

He nodded to Chief Aizawa, who spoke in that low, measured tone that commanded instant respect. “We need all hands on deck. Each of you will have a role—whether it’s field, intel, or processing. Officer Uraraka will be on the evidence team, coordinating with the data we’ve collected so far.”

The mention of Uraraka’s name caught your attention, and sure enough, she was at the back, beaming when she spotted you. Her presence was a rare comfort in this sea of intense, stern faces. It had been years since you’d seen her, but it was like old times when she waved, mouthing an excited “Hey!”

“Detective Bakugou, Officer L/N, you’ll be working alongside Detective Midoriya’s team,” Chief Yagi continued, and the very air in the room seemed to vibrate as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. He was in full protest mode, shooting daggers at Midoriya, who looked back with a determined—if slightly nervous—smile.

Once the briefing concluded, Chief Yagi dismissed everyone, and the room exploded in chatter as officers filed out. You managed to navigate through the crowd until you reached Uraraka, who practically bounced on her toes, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Can you believe it? We’re working together!” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “I’ve been doing the fingerprinting, data scans—all the good stuff. Remember when I used to geek out about this stuff in school?”

“Oh, totally! You always aced those forensics projects,” you replied, grinning as the memories rushed back.

She nodded, laughing. “Exactly! And now, look at us! I get to actually do it. And you—you’re working with Bakugou Katsuki, of all people!” Her eyes widened with awe and maybe a little mischief, the kind that reminded you of her knack for getting you into trouble back in the day.

“Working is a strong word,” you muttered, glancing over at Bakugou, who was still glaring holes into Midoriya, ignoring everyone else. “Surviving might be more accurate.”

Uraraka giggled but quickly straightened when she caught Bakugou’s expression aimed squarely at her—a glare so intense that it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat, gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll send over the scans when they’re ready! And hey, catch up soon?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in agreement. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochaco.”

With a final grin, Uraraka turned back to her workstation, her demeanor shifting from friendly to focused in an instant. You watched her go, feeling a brief pang of jealousy at how seamlessly she slid into her work. But that was quickly overridden by the realization that Bakugou was striding your way, arms crossed and a storm brewing in his expression.

“Done with your little reunion?” he sneered, barely waiting for you to nod. “Good. 'Cause now it’s time for you to actually do somethin’ useful, rookie.” He nodded towards the open case file in his hand. “Let’s go.”

.....

The silence between you and Bakugou was taut, strung up like an overused wire threatening to snap. He stalked ahead, practically dragging the storm cloud that was his mood behind him. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d decided that now was the time to go full boot camp on you, but here you were, heels clicking on the polished floor, trying not to look like you’d rather melt into it.

“Listen up, rookie,” Bakugou started without turning around, his voice a low rumble laced with that familiar bite. He navigated the labyrinth of hallways like a predator circling its territory. You’re gonna make yourself useful if it kills ya, got it?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a combination of irritation and nerves twist in your chest. You’d learned over the past few weeks that Bakugou had a penchant for the extreme. Everything was all or nothing with him, whether it was paperwork, interrogations, or the way he yelled about the printer jamming (which was only your fault that one time).

“Got it,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended. He spared you a glance, eyes narrowing as if daring you to prove him right about all the times he’d muttered under his breath about “extras” wasting his time.

As if on cue, the door to one of the briefing rooms swung open, and Detective Kirishima stepped out, his broad grin a sharp contrast to Bakugou’s perpetual scowl. “Yo! Heard we’re working together on this one,” he said, his voice friendly and warm, instantly cutting through the tension.

Great. If there was ever a time to look capable, it was now. Not that Kirishima would ever point out your mistakes, but being around Bakugou had a way of amplifying your self-awareness until it was deafening.

“Try not to get in the way,” Bakugou snapped, jerking his thumb towards the entrance. You wondered if his eyes had always held that unrelenting glint or if he’d sharpened it specifically for you. Kirishima, bless him, only chuckled, patting you on the back as he passed by.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge about the syndicate case,” Kirishima whispered, though you knew Bakugou’s sharp hearing likely picked it up. His glare confirmed it, but he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the map on the table instead. Red pins clustered like a rash, each marking a hit by the crime syndicate that had every department in the city scrambling.

The realization hit you hard. The stakes were higher than ever, and the idea of fumbling now made your stomach churn. The last thing you needed was to mess up in front of Bakugou and Kirishima, especially when the latter’s optimism made you want to do better and the former’s disdain made you feel like you never could.

Bakugou laid out the plan, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the room. "..'nd if we’re lucky, tonight’s stakeout’ll give us what we need.” He turned to you, eyes narrowing to twin blades. “That clear, rookie?”

“Crystal,” you muttered, earning a sharp nod.

As Kirishima checked the comms equipment, you shifted on your feet, the weight of what was coming pressing against your chest like a vice. The quiet hum of urgency filled the room as you prepared for the night ahead, a stakeout that promised no sleep, a test of patience, and a confined space with Bakugou’s intensity smoldering beside you.

Yeah. You're soo fucked.

[pvnks0ul]

ENCORE

❥ riri w. x fem!reader

sypnosis: riri makes a habit of taking care of you after...♡

⚠︎: gentle!dom!riri + sub!reader, implied rough se✘, aftercare so soft smut basically, readers a little bit of a brat, masochist!reader with a not so sadist riri

Riris bent over you, using all her might to not lean too much of her weight on you, too busy numbing your slightly overstimulated mind with her sweet kisses, taking the taboo away that she hardly had time to think about how sweaty she'd gotten herself.

She holds your face in one hand, thumb hitting the perfect spots against the soft skin under your eye so well that you're actively sighing out in content with how fragile she was treating you compared to earlier. Her other hand repeats the action but on your twitching inner thigh.

Riri sometimes thinks she goes a little overboard considering the amount of attention you required when the funs all over. She likes pleasing you most, more than almost anything, but can't help but to feel a twinge of guilt pinging at her heart for the state it leaves you in; completely fucked out to where you dont even respond to certain questions, like you got lost on your way down from your high.

But she doesn't second think it when you need to be talked down, apologizing for what she said while in the moment so you know she didn't completely mean it.

Truthfully, you didn't like feeling lost, but Riris voice was like a silk rope guiding you back to your messy room and there was nothing more calming then her arms caging you tight, her lips pressing against yours as she muttered varieties of how, "We're done now, ma.", "You did good for me, baby.", "Take your time.." in between the short lasting kisses.

It takes you nothing but a few golden minutes to get your head in the right state. When you're back up she's usually interrupted by a laugh or soft giggle, like it was routine, Riri scoffs but smiles so tightly it wasn't possible to hide.

Somewhere between the blurred lines Riri'd gotten up to get two bottles of water and mildly warm compress of a towel to clean you up.

She lets you guide her hand so she's not pressing too hard, just gently swiping until the area was clean. Riri turns her head in your direction, looking down on you admirably while you focused on cautiously cleaning yourself.

Your face was cutely frowned up as you sleepily petted riris hand between your legs. You wipe around your clit purposely avoiding the lower before pushing her hand away.

Riri moves her hand per your request but she knows that you're not done. You lay all the way back, yawning an trying to pull the blanket over your body.

"Now, hold on." Riri snatches it out of your hand without any strain.

You grumble and peek an eye open at her. She sighs, you could barely open your eyes and yet your attitude never seemed to waver.

She puts the messy rag down, reaching for the damp towel, "You can chill..I'll just do it myself."

You shrug, legs twitching as you tried to spread them wider, "Ma, I got it." she reassures with a chuckle, putting them to rest comfortably.

Ri bites down on her lip when your whimper meets her ears, she doesn't say anything though, continuing the soft presses at your inner thighs, skipping your flower because of how sensitive it must've been.

She'd have to soak you later, almost everywhere between your thighs was heated. Riri coos when she's gotten it all, now she just had to worry about the compress for your hole, she glances down at it from her hunched angle before her eyes flicker back to your peaceful demeanor.

You breathe out loudly, a sign that your patience was running thin. Riri hooks her hand around your thigh– or as much as she could, kneading the skin with her thumb as a nice distraction while she touched around your hole with a folded end of the gray towelette.

Her touch is merely featherweight as she tried to get all she could, but even that seemed to trigger you. You flinch at every little dab, not only sensitive but feeling a bit pf pain aswell.

"Ri–!" You jolt to grab at her arm, preventing her from continuing the irritating movements.

"Alright, Alright." she releases your thigh and grabs your hand, lifting it to her lips for a peck before rubbing over the skin. Your lips purse, "It hurts.." voice breaking but not yet crying.

She perks the towel inbetween your legs before maneuvering them around it, "We can let this rest here then...I'll get it later."

After a few hours, when it's starting to get late, Riri tries again and luckily it goes over smoothly. She didnt want to press you but sleeping in a bed of sweat and bodily fluids was gonna eat at her the longer she sat.

She ran a bath, something to soak you in while she stripped all the comforters off the bed for the night. Riri joined the nice vanilla scented bath when everything was off to the side, finally feeling satisfied.

You lean against her breast, taking her arms to wrap them around yourself, feening for her to comfort you. You yawn again, louder and more obnoxiously but Riris laugh was even more obnoxious.

You reach for her loofah, deciding to bite your tongue at her mocking and instead clean her up with the little energy you had left, starting with her arms, then shoulders, whatever you could reach.

Riri breathes through her nose, starting to get relaxed herself. You smirk, mind wandering as it tickled the back pf your neck. It immediately lit a raunchy fire in you again. Of course you were too tired for anything now, but the thought was nice.

You put all your weight on her, closing your eyes while coddling her arm, "You should fuck me in here, baby."

🏷️: @s0lam33y @blushyrawrz @shurislover @ririshotgf @fentibeauty

a/n: why this kinda seem like something that wouldve been on sex sent me to the er🙂

[yoonia]

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊

⇝ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖆𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖞: 𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔳𝔢

📚 This page is an archive of fics collected through my 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊 event. The archive will be divided in two sections; the first is the collection of fics that have been submitted and recommended by readers and writers through the event, and the second is my personal fave which I've gathered from both the fics mentioned to me through my ask box and the ones I read during my downtime. Links to the love letters and reviews will be added together with the story details listed below.

📚 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔯 The list of stories below had been submitted to me by readers and writers throughout the event

✎ Throttle by @alphabetboyluvr read love letter here

✎ Once The Thrill Expires by @alphabetboyluvr read love letter here

✎ Vigilant(e) by @yoongihan read love letter here

✎ When The Lights Go Out by @livingformintyoongi read love letter here

✎ Friendcation by @kingofbodyrolls read love letter here

✎ Stellar Behaviour by @lo1k-diamonds read love letter here

📚 𝔶𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔞'𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔯 The listed stories below are my personal favourites, both the fics I was reading through the event and the ones I've been reading and enjoying as of late

✎ Midnight by @leahsfavefics read love letter here

✎ The Taste of Sin by @shadowkoo read love letter here

✎ Vignette: Duty by @cybrsan read love letter here

✎ The Athlete by @beomcoups read love letter here

✎ A Lover's Redemption by @writtenwhalien read love letter here

✎ Dandelion by @shina913 read love letter here

✎ The Wood by @sailoryooons read love letter here

✎ Minted by @kithtaehyung read love letter here

✎ Is That My Shirt? by @minisugakoobies read love letter here

✎ Mr. & Mrs. Yoon by @monamipencil read love letter here

✎ On The Ropes by @raplinesmoon read love letter here

💕 Thank you so much to everyone who had joined this birthday event. It has been a lovely experience to be able to hear your voice and share the love for fanfics and music through this. I hope we can get to experience something like this soon in the future!

xoxo, 𝕯𝖎𝖆

[dxmoness]

SPEAK NOW | MULTI-MANHWA

note — for Jami once again. SURPRISE FIC!!!

characters — gallahan lombardi, claude de alger obelia, rezef hill, ijekiel alpheus

pronouns — she/her, this will be reader instead of Jami herself like the other two fics so hopefully it's enjoyable to everyone!

—“THE WATER'S ROUGH, BUT THIS LOVE IS OURS.”

→ G. LOMBARDI

Gallahan Lombardi had been the man she had wedded a year ago and until now he hadn't failed to make her feel loved. Always so positive Gallahan made sure she felt so good about everything she did. If Name felt bad, Gallahan was there to tell her otherwise. Now in all this negativity things got worse when she found herself in a heap of untruths planted by other nobles. Her mentally drained at it and she tried hiding it from her husband. "Name?" Gallahan's voice was gentle and sweet as her body was engulfed in a warm embrace. "Is something wrong?" He whispered kindly as his eyes gleam with concern for her. After all she hadn't been herself. She broke down in tears as she told him everything. "It's okay." he whispered, kissing her forehead. "You'll be okay." He smiles and then the day ended with her in his comforting arms.

—“THIS WAS THE VERY FIRST PAGE, NOT WHERE THE STORYLINE ENDS.”

→ C. DE ALGER OBELIA.

Claude de Alger Obelia was a cold hearted man. Especially after the death of his beloved Diana. But, this cold demeanor seemed to shrink when he met her. Name was just a maid that was captured from another nation. The people who had did the human trafficking behind her way here was arrested and she was brought to the Ruby Castle to be a maid there. But, days came by as a surprise to the young female as the emperor himself seemed to enjoy her company. He knew it was wrong, but who cares? He was emperor and no one was bossing him around thus they got close. But, one thing leads to another as Name falls for a man that wasn't him, which brings him in pain. At their wedding, he came forward. "I object to this !marriage." Words that brought the guests confusion and surprise. Even he didn't know where this was coming from, but he didn't want her to marry someone else. Name seems to brighten up as she walks towards him. An objection by the emperor made her feel something. "Why?" Her question was asked after they left the place of the wedding's display. "Because I love you, and I can't lose you now." His voice grew warm at least Name thought so as he leaned closer. His lips against hers.

— “DROP EVERYTHING NOW, MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN.”

→ I. ALPHEUS

Name was the princess' sister. When Athanasia made her choice to be with Lucas, Name was there for Ijekiel. And let's just say he had fallen for her slowly. Her smiles and things she did to comfort him of his heartbreak. "Good morning, Ijekiel." Name says with a smile as she greets him warmly. "Good morning, Your Highness." He kisses her gloved hand delicately. His eyes meet hers, a certain emotion in them that she couldn't quite get. "Do you need anything?" She asks kindly. She asks this because he never comes unless she invited him. "I just...needed to hear your voice." His face flushed as Name just laughs, a good way of laughing. Her eyes gleam with delight as she hugs him. "Okay."

— “I HAD TIME MY LIFE FIGHTING DRAGONS WITH YOU!”

→ R. HILL

Rezef Hill didn't like anyone except his sister. This was extremely noticeable as he rejected every single match his father brought his way. But, he had a secret. He was in love with his sister's lady in waiting, Name. Every time he saw her, something unfamiliar comes to his feelings. It's as if she was driving him mad. He hid it very while in his cold expressions towards her, but it was hard even for him. With every move towards he felt less himself as he fought the feelings away. That was until Name got close to Raffaelo Kidrey, as how he sees it. He grew more determined to get her than ever as he practically made up excuses to see her face everyday. "Are you alright, Your Highness?" Name asks, confused as he called yet again for the second time today. His cheeks seemed tinted as he nods. "Okay then..."

tagging, @sxnful-sins / @sxnful-rage , @salvatvre , @orlic1a , @yevene , @roseadleyn

[sematarygirls]

        SLASHER!RAFE x FINALGIRL!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ dubcon, unprotected p in v, knife play, choking, hair pulling, degradation, one use of the word daddy, blood, murder, gore

NOTES .ᐟ  everyone ignore how i change my post layouts every five seconds, but i went kind of out of my comfort zone and decided to put my nasty little fantasies to paper with this one, so i hope yall freaks enjoy.

                 ♱     ‘‘ we all go a little mad sometimes ’’

The sounds of your heavy breathing seemed to echo off the walls of the empty wooden cabin. A loose floorboard underneath you dug painfully into your ribs, but you didn't dare move an inch, your eyes trained on the door and ears perked up as you kept yourself alert for any signs of life. Every creak of the old cabin and whistle of the wind outside had you biting back a gasp as hot, salty tears ran down your cheeks.

Your lip was trembling, heart beating so loud in your chest that you were afraid it would give away your position hidden away under one of the rickety beds. Flashes of the gruesome scene beyond the four wooden walls that were currently giving you some semblance of safety filled the darkness everytime your eyes fluttered shut.

Blood. Blood everywhere. With the amount of blood you'd seen and the eerie quiet that had settled over the camp, only the wind and the crickets to keep you company, you were almost positive that everyone else was dead.

You found yourself grateful that the campers had all gone home that morning, spared from the wrath of the axe-wielding maniac that had beheaded, dismembered, gutted, and disfigured all your coworkers. You could still see the face of your boss, the head counselor, in your mind, lifeless, sunken eyes staring past you and ghostly pale skin practically reflecting in the moonlight.

You didn't have time to ponder whether the unrecognizable corpse a few feet away belonged to the disembodied head before you because a pitched, sadistic whistling started up. You weren't sure what direction it had come from as it seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. Running and hiding seemed to be the best course of action, so you took off, trying to focus on what was ahead of you and not the massacre that was all around you.

That was when you slipped into the cabin and scrambled under the bed, your heavy breathing—a mix of physical exertion and pure horror—reverberating off the walls. A twig snapping outside had you clamping your hand over your mouth, a small squeak falling from your lips as you screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to will the murderer away from your location.

A few tense moments passed with your eyes shut tight and not another sound to be heard. Your ears strained to pick up anything besides the wind whipping through the trees and the ironically lively sounds of insects chirping but still, nothing.

You let out an internal sigh of relief, your eyes fluttering open and sweeping the floor in front of you for feet, thankfully finding none. "Boo," a voice suddenly whispered, making your eyes widen. A blood-curdling scream tore from your throat as a hand clamped down on your ankle, pulling you forcefully out from under the bed. You clawed at the floor and kicked at him, but your attempts to fight off the larger, stronger man were futile.

When he had pulled you all the way out of the hiding place that had lulled you into a false sense of security, you quickly turned over to face him, bracing yourself up on your hands as your chest heaved and eyes widened with fear.

You found yourself slightly taken aback as your gaze landed on the handsome, blood-spattered face before you. You'd more or less expected a middle-aged hillbilly with missing teeth and a crazed look in his eyes. Instead, you were face to face with a wicked smirk and cold blue eyes that glared down at you, glinting sinisterly in the dim, warm lighting. He had forgone his axe, the polished blade of a knife clutched in his hand, catching the light.

"Gotcha," he said lowly, his voice taking on a distinctly menacing and warning tone, as if daring you to try and run from him. His tall frame towered over you, even as he crouched down to be level with you, the sharp scent of the blood coating his white button up making your nose scrunch in disgust.

"Please," you begged weakly, crawling backward until your back hit the wooden bedframe of the bed you'd just sought refuge under. He seemed unfazed by your attempts to scurry away from him, simply leaning closer and bringing the knife up to brush a strand of hair away from your face in a gesture that was deceptively gentle.

"Shh, it's okay," he cooed, his voice dripping with false comfort and a twisted amusement. He lightly ran the knife down your cheek, making you stiffen, not wanting to move an inch and risk the blade dipping into your skin. "Are you scared?" He asked, stopping the cold steel of the knife underneath your chin and using it to tilt your head up a little bit, forcing you to look at him.

His icy blue eyes bored into yours as he waited for your answer. You couldn't form a sentence, simply staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights. Your mind was whirling with thoughts, most presently not wanting to die, but just beyond that, you registered the damp feeling between your legs that had you wondering if you had truly lost your mind. You were face to face with a man who had brutally murdered atleast a dozen people and was presently covered in their blood, and you were turned on?

"I asked you a fucking question," he said, drawing you from your thoughts. His chiseled jaw clenched as he pressed the knife ever so slightly into your skin, the tip of the blade nicking your neck and making a small whimper fall from your lips. He leaned closer, his breath fanning over your face. "Are you scared?" He repeated, his tone making it clear that he expected an answer when he asked you a question.

"Y-yes," you replied, your voice trembling as you felt a warm, sticky droplet of blood slip down your neck from the small cut he had made and into your shirt, right through the valley of your breasts.

"Good," he hummed, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face. Your breath hitched as you felt the blade begin to move again, dipping lower and lower, following the trail of blood on your skin. "Bet you'd do whatever I told you to, yeah?"

You nodded, probably a little too quickly. Deep down, some sick part of you wanted this, wanted him to touch you and defile you in ways that would have your mother clutching her pearls. Fear was one motivator. Of course you wanted to get out of this alive and were willing to do whatever it took, but as much as you wanted to convince yourself it was, you knew it wasn't the only reason you would bend to the handsome stranger's will.

He grinned wickedly, grabbing your throat with his free hand and pulling you up into a standing position. The tip of the knife pressed firmly against your sternum, his fingers flexing around the column of your throat—his grip unyielding but not quite painful—as he stood there for a moment, just staring at you.

His calculating gaze swept over your face, taking in every little detail before slipping down. A glint of satisfaction flickered across his face as he saw the cut on your skin, following the blood trail down into your little tank top. He subconsciously licked his lips at the view, the thin material of your shirt and your little shorts not leaving much to the imagination. You shuddered under his intense stare, feeling suddenly very exposed as he shamelessly checked you out.

His eyes lingered on your chest, the rise and fall of your breasts clearly visible as it heaved with your quick, shallow breaths—whether from fear or anticipation, you were still trying to decipher. His face twisted into a smug expression, clearly noting the effect he was having on you.

He slowly, tauntingly, dragged the blade up from your sternum to your collarbone before pulling it back down in the same tantalizing manner. His gaze seemed to pierce your soul, watching in amusement as you squirmed uncomfortably in his grasp.

Before you could register what was happening, a loud clatter abruptly echoed throughout the room, making you jump and gasp softly in a mix of surprise and fear. Your eyes widened a fraction as you felt his calloused fingers slip under your shirt, dancing along your bare skin.

Your gaze darted to the source of the noise, the knife laying discarded on the floor a few feet away. "Uh, uh, uh," he reprimanded, his grip on your throat tightening, his thumb applying just enough pressure to make you feel the threat of being cut off from air. "Don't look over there. Look at me."

Your eyes met his again, his pupils dilated, the pools of black giving him an even more menacing look as he glared at you with a hardened stare. "Don't try anything stupid," he warned lowly, his fingertips digging into the delicate flesh of your neck. "I don't want to have to kill you. I'd be a shame for such a pretty face to go to waste."

His hand left your throat, sliding to the back of your head and curling his long fingers into your hair. Yanking your head back and exposing the column of your neck further, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"Uh-Uh huh," you managed, unable to nod due to the harsh, painful grip he had on your hair. His hot breath fanning against your skin seemed to go right to your aching core, making you mentally curse yourself for whatever Freudian concept had you attracted to a man who was probably going to murder you before the night was over.

"Hm? What was that?" He taunted you, giving your hair another tug that had you letting out a small "ah" in pain. "Gonna have to speak up. Use your words."

"Yes," you whimpered, giving him the verbal affirmation he wanted to hear. His cruel and violent behavior really shouldn't have been turning you on as much as it was, but something about him was downright intoxicating, making you latch helplessly onto every word he said.

"Good," he grinned darkly, rewarding you by letting go of your hair before both of his large, strong hands settled on your waist. In one swift movement, he spun you around so your back was facing him. He kept his left hand on your hip, fingertips digging harshly into your skin as the other hand splayed along your stomach over your top.

You swallowed hard, looking forward out the window. It was so dark outside, the light from the room casting a glare on the glass that allowed you to see your reflection and by association, the man behind you. He leaned down, his breath hot against your neck as his tall frame dwarfed your smaller one.

His fingertips dipped into your shorts without warning, making you gasp softly as you felt the pads of his fingers run along your glistening folds. "Dirty fuckin' girl," he whispered into your ear, and you could hear the sick satisfaction in his voice. "You like me roughing you up, huh? You want me to hurt you."

He pulled his fingers back, leaving you feeling strangely disappointed. Your slick transfered from his fingers to your skin as he carefully pulled out, trailing his fingers alone your stomach before curling them into the waistband of your shorts and tugging down, letting them fall to the floor.

"Onto the bed," He breathed hotly against your skin before shoving you forward with enough force to send you stumbling toward the bed in front of you. You braced yourself on your hands and knees as you fell forward, unknowingly getting yourself exactly where he wanted you. He positioned himself behind you, gripping your hips tightly.

One of his hands slid up your spine, roughly gripping your hair again and pushing your face forcefully into the pillows below, making you yelp softly in surprise. "Don't you fuckin' move," he warned you, his voice dripping with dark promise of what would happen if you did as he pulled back.

You heard him fiddling with his belt before a loud clank resounded through the room, indicating it had found a home on the floor along with the forgotten knife. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest as you waited in anticipation—a sick eagerness setting your body abuzz.

One hand came back to your waist, the other gripping the base of his throbbing length. He guided himself to your covered entrance, using his thick head to push the flimsy lace of your panties aside. You gasped into the pillows, your hips instinctively pushing back against him as he ran his tip along your wet folds, being deceptively gentle despite his true intentions.

With a brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, his length stretching your walls in a manner that was both painful and sinfully delicious as he groaned in satisfaction. He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of being buried in your tight, wet heat before beginning to move, each thrust sending your body crashing against the bed.

The old, rickety wood screeched with each brutal thrust that he delivered into you. You were a mess of moans and whines, muffled by the pillows beneath you that smelled faintly of mothballs. He trailed a hand up your back once again, mirroring his previous actions of curled it into your hair to keep you pressed firmly into the mattress beneath you.

"You like that, huh?" He mocked you, finding a perverted pleasure in how eager you were for him to fuck you senseless. "What kind of sick whore lets a murderer fuck her, hm?" He hummed, tugging on the strands of your hair that were wrapped around his long fingers as he continued to deliver rough thrusts into your poor cunt, his hard length abusing your cervix as he chased his own high.

You cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, his grip on your hip bruising as he forcefully pulled your body back to meet his thrusts. "That's it," he cooed derisively, not letting up the slightest bit. "Lay there and take it like a good girl." His hot and cold act—one minute praising you and the next demeaning you—had your head spinning in a way that wasn't unwelcome.

Your body jolted as he unexpectedly slid his hand down, his calloused fingertips rubbing tight, quick circles on your swollen clit. Your hands fisted into the bedsheets, body tensing as the combination of sensations overwhelmed you.

"Fuck, look at you," he groaned as he watched you writhe beneath him, his fingers merciless on the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" He purred condescendingly

He increased the pressure, his touch unyielding as he felt your body growing taut beneath him, your breath hitching. "That's right, come for daddy," he taunted, his voice dripping with menace as he brought the hand in your hair down to grip your hip for leverage.

Your body seized up as the coil inside you finally snapped, pleasure crashing over you in intense waves. A strangled cry tore from your throat into the pillows, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as he continued to pound into you, chasing his own high.

Feeling your walls tighten around him sent him over the edge, gripping your hips tightly as he pushed himself deep into you. He let out a low groan, his head falling pack in ecstacy as he painted your walls with his release.

Your body slumped against the bed as he slowly pulled out, your chest heaving from exertion. Your mind was in a daze, briefly forgetting that the man with you could kill you at any moment.

You hesitantly turned over, propping yourself on your elbows, watching him tuck himself back into his pants and retrieve his belt and knife from their place on the floor. You regarded him warily, watching every move cautiously to make sure that he wasn't going to approach you and slit your throat now that he had taken what he wanted.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours and glinting with a sinister light as he took in your sweaty appearance, your hair sticking wildly in all directions, a few strands clinging to your forehead. He lifted the knife, pointing it at you—a clear threat. "You tell the cops or anyone else that I was here, and I'll fuckin' find you, hear?"

Your eyes widened slightly as your brain tried to process the words he'd just said. When they finally did register in your mind, you nodded frantically, showing him that you understood. He was leaving you alive. You were going to make it home. He studied you for a moment longer, his brows furrowing ever so slightly like he was mulling over something in his mind.

Finally, he gave you a small nod, his face a mask of indifference as he left without another word—like he didn't just kill a shit ton of people and then fuck you senseless. You simply watched him leave in disbelief. You didn't really expect for him to actually let you live, but you were eternally grateful that he had.

You let out a long sigh of relief as soon as his footsteps faded into the night, letting your elbows give out from under you. Your back hit the mattress and you stared up at the ceiling, trying to put together a plausible story for why you were the last one standing after the brutal massacre and why you hadn't the faintest clue who could have done such a horrible thing.

this one goes out to my babygirl @starkeysprincess

[cupiidzbow]

sorry cringe (DK fic moment 💔)

“Uhh… Do you want me to move?”

“No! No. Stay right there. Just- let me figure this out.”

Freddie couldn’t fight the slight grin curling on his face as he watched Kong in front of him. DK had the smaller human in his lap, his other arm pulling him closer towards himself, legs crossed underneath him. He hunched his neck down to meet his eyes, cradling his cheek softly, his massive hand gently tilting his neck back slightly to look up at him.

Despite how much he tried to make himself look smaller for him, DK was always gonna be a hulking mass in comparison to the little human in his arms.

Do.nkey Ko.ng - obviously- is quite a large guy. Big hands, arms, face, personality at that! He always tries his best to shrink in on himself, just to come off as soft and gentle as he possibly could for Freddie. But the size difference between the two couldn’t help but be a bit of an issue in some instances.

Especially as the gorilla leaned down to press an awkward kiss against the human’s lips, his own taking up a majority of his face.

Despite how unconventional of a kiss it was, Freddie closed his eyes and happily leaned into him, appreciating the affection that his boyfriend was trying to give him in the time they got to be alone together. DK’s snout brushed against Fred’s closed eye slightly, which made him laugh and push his large head away from him gently, much to the big guy’s dismay.

“Hey, don’t smudge my makeup!!” He giggled, reaching up to brush a bit of the rust colored eyeshadow that rubbed off on the gorilla’s nose.

“Well it’s not my fault!” DK huffed back flustered. “What is it with you humans and being so small anyways?” He grumbled, turning his head away from him, slightly annoyed over the fact it was seemingly so difficult to kiss his boyfriend properly.

Fred smiled as he rolled his eyes at him, shaking his head, “I’m not even that small!”

He cups his boyfriend’s face with two hands and pulls his face back in his direction. He pinches the sides of DK’s cheeks and stretches them out playfully, making some of his teeth peek out from his lips from the action.

He couldn’t help but be amused at the fact that his big brute of a boyfriend allowed him to do that. There’s a lot of things that only he could get away with after all.

“Besides, you already know there’s a bunch of Kongs I'm bigger than anyway!!” He let his cheeks go, the skin making a slight noise as it snapped back into place. “You’re just huge!!”

The slightly soured expression he had softened at that, “Yeah… true. It’s not like you’re complaining about it.” He smirked, leaning down to nuzzle his face in his neck, finding it easier to press kisses there at the moment.

“Yeah, yeah….. You’re well aware.” Fred deadpanned, reaching to scratch the fur under his ear, his boyfriend leaning deeper into the touch. “There’s just a lot of you to go around.”

“Nah. Only for you.”

Freddie felt his heart swell a bit at the words.

“Or y'know, maybe an adoring crowd. On a good day.”

“Ok, nevermind. No more affection for you.” Fred pushed his head away with his palm and started getting up from his lap, jokingingly unamused.

“Hey hey!!! I'm kidding!!” DK teased, grasping at him to pull him back into his arms. Finding his way back to his neck, pressing a little kiss into the side.

“You’re annoying.”

“Yeah! But you love meee.”

Yeah. He did. He really did.

[lovelyhan]

— daylight ⟢

when hoshi first opened his eyes, the singular impulse hard-wired into his circuitry is to dance. a performer in every sense of the word, he simply finds another stage to set foot on in the planet of salax after the escape. people never overstay their welcome here, but he unexpectedly meets you—a mechanic born and raised in a place where no one deigns to linger for too long.

★ FEATURING; soonyoung x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9k words

★ TAGS; automaton!hoshi, mechanic!reader, a bunch of stray kids members make appearances bc HA!, mentions of sex work, mutual pining? angst, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ WARNINGS; implied dubious consent (with hoshi and a character that isn't the mc), mentions of terminal illnesses and surgeries

★ NOTES; fun fact! this collab was 9 months in the making and i am cramming this on the very last day of my extension :D very unprofessional of me, but here it is! p.s. little side note that the chan that's constantly mentioned in the fic is bang chan, not lee chan!

this is part of @idyllic-ghost's svt sci-fi collab!

★ SMUT TAGS; robot sex, unprotected sex, first time together, they're just so desperate for each other yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz - @dkswife

★ SOONYOUNG TAGLIST; @ak6ko - @nikkell - @yoonzinoooo

100 years ago it was thought that the Earth, as we know it, would disintegrate. That the sun would implode and leave everything in darkness. Miraculously, it didn’t. Due to some external force, human scientists still haven’t agreed upon what it exactly was, none of the planets in our former solar system were ever destroyed.

The Earth, along with the other planets, were pushed away from each other, and ended up in different parts of the universe. Earth just happened to come to a solar system with alien life. At first, we were cautious, and people were prepared to fight.

However, the aliens were welcoming of our planet. Those of us who didn’t die from ‘The Great Journey’ or from trying to fight the aliens, were welcomed into the new solar system.

Soon enough, we had integrated completely, and we received materials and assistance from our sister-planets in exchange for human labor. What humans knew of technology was very limited, but with the resources of the aliens we created artificial life forms. We named these robots Automatons, and they served as workers when humans couldn’t.

Eventually, there was no need for human labor at all. To pay back for the help the aliens gave us, we used Automatons. With the extensive development of these robots, we eventually managed to create artificial sentient life. These Automatons were human-like in looks and had human consciousness, but they could not bleed and were stronger than we ever could be.

At the present time, there are even different levels of Automatons. Level 3 robots are the workers, level 2 robots are the caretakers, and level 1 robots are the celebrities—

“That’s enough telly for one day, don’tcha think?”

A frown tugs at your lips when you hear the familiar voice of your next-door neighbor who also makes a living out of trading tech junk in exchange for money. Han Jisung is a bit of an oddball—even by your planet’s standards, and everyone knows how strange the dwellers of Salax could be. If he was on Earth, he would’ve been ostracized as a complete loon, but unfortunately the stack of television monitors right outside his shop is your only source of entertainment these days. 

(Which might sound preposterous to some, since Salax is often dubbed as the planet of entertainment. Just not the kind you’re looking for.)

“Why are you even watching a documentary that’s nearly a decade old?” you huff, clutching a bag of tools you bought from the other side of town closer to your chest. “I thought you didn’t give a shit about Automaton celebrities—that Chan’s dancer trinity could outperform any machine?” 

“Now, Giz, no need to be so stingy,” Jisung chuckles and your eye twitches at the condescending nickname. “You know that's not why I’m watching this old thing.”

As if on cue, the only working screen in the sea of television static before you flickers from a scene of breathtaking idol performances to a closeup on a familiar Automaton who’s been burning up the stage since he first opened his eyes.

“Hoshi looked so sparkly when he debuted,” Jisung comments as the documentary continues to play. “Actually, they all did. Makes me wonder why those idols thought it’d be a good idea to break out of their facilities. Weren’t they treated like royalty back on Earth? What’s he doing in a dump like this?”

“Jisung,” you sigh. “Why’d you ask me to come here again?” 

“Oh. Right. I'll bring him into your lab, Giz.”

He calls you Giz because you’re known around these parts as someone who can fix any gadget and gizmo; every robot and Automaton that’s dropped into your care. It just so happens that, with the nature of his business, Jisung is the one who typically directs potential customers your way.

Which is what he’s doing right now. 

“Didn’t he already come in here last week? And the week before that?” Your neighbor grumbles as he helps your mutual friend Minho heft a powered down Automaton on the table in your lab. “It was Hyunjin who brought him the first time. Then Felix. Now you?”

“He’s a bot, what’d you expect?” Minho huffs. “They break down every now and again.”

“You break down every now and again too, but you don’t visit the doctor every week, no?” Jisung quips. “Idol bots really have no business wanderin’ into the galaxy’s red light district when they can’t handle the heat.”

“Jisung, shut up,” you apprehend him sharply, all while getting to work on the Automaton lying on your work table. “I can’t fix anything when you’re running your mouth too close to my ear.”

Your neighbor simply chuckles before patting Minho on the back. “Oh, yeah. You’ve gotta be in your handywoman element and everything. Well, Minho and I are gonna pop open some cold ones from your fridge—”

“No.

“—from my fridge while you work on that dying star over there,” Jisung makes it a point to cast the same robot he’d just been watching a documentary of a pitiful glance. “Seriously though, won’t Chan-hyung just consider selling him to me? Bet this guy’s parts would make a great fortune in the black market.”

“And how are you going to explain that you managed to turn up Hoshi of 53V3NT33N’s body parts without getting arrested?” Minho barks before yanking Jisung by the ear to the entrance of your lab. “Sorry about him, Y/N. He must be a pain in the ass to have as a neighbor.”

"You're a pain in the ass for constantly getting me to fix this guy, too,” you mumble as you start to unbutton Hoshi’s shirt to access the panel concealing the circuitry panel underneath his chest. “I’m all for saving what can still be saved, but maybe Jisung is onto something. Why aren’t you guys just chopping up his parts if he breaks down this often?” 

Jisung nods with a huff. “Can’t be good for business even if he used to be a famous idol, that’s for sure.”

The lab is silent apart from the whir of the machines mounted on your walls, and it’s this sullen atmosphere that makes Minho’s reply have all the more weight to it.

“You guys aren’t dancers. You wouldn’t be able to understand.”

The first time you met rogue idol Automaton Hoshi in his titanium-clad glory was during a rare night when Jisung coaxed you out of your lab to "have real fun for once". Your neighbor is easily one of the most overbearing people you know, so you simply tagged along for the sake of getting him to shut up more than anything else.

But when he droned on and on about this new recruit Minho managed to scour off the streets, you never expected that Jisung would be talking about a bot and not some fledgling dancer with little to his name.

Well, in retrospect, Hoshi is a dancer—a performer, even. Despite his group's intergalactic status as outlaws because of the simultaneous escape stunt they pulled several months ago, not a single soul in Salax wished to report his whereabouts to the concerned authorities.

Where the other bots from 53V3NT33N are, you haven't the slightest clue, but if your planet's natives have widely accepted Hoshi's presence even if he's been here for a month at most, who are you to dictate otherwise?

Passionate. That's the best word you can use to describe the way he dances. All the movements that his body makes are calculated, purposeful. Each roll of his hips, each snap of his limbs, every memorable expression that colors his face—the intensity of Hoshi's performance all bleeds into his passion for the art of dance.

In your many years of tending and tinkering with machines, this is probably the first time you wondered if a bot's creator infused part of his soul into the code. You know of a few Automatons that are being used as entertainers and even escorts for the lecherous visitors of Salax, yet none of them come as close to being human as Hoshi is in your book.

But on that same night, you managed to witness the polar end of the spectrum. The one where Hoshi's fiery passion crumbled into crippling anxiety. 

Automaton malfunctions aren't an uncommon occurrence here. The reason why not many Level 1 bots ever set foot on Salax is because the planet's electromagnetic fields mess with their delicate circuitry and sometimes even tamper with their code.

These Automatons are celebrities—meaning their parts are made out of sleek material to allow ease of movement and rid them of the rigid and bulky framework of infernal bots. But because of the flimsy hardware coupled with the harsh environment, you're not surprised to see an Automaton as intricately crafted as Hoshi break down in the middle of a performance.

He's a mess. The practiced choreography was seemingly wiped out of his programming as he convulsed on-stage, sparks flitting from the seams of his joints. The bar’s manager, Chan, was quick to bark out orders to bring Hoshi off the platform and just let the other dancers cover the rest of the routine. 

You thought the immediate recall of an obviously defected Automaton would mean he was done for. But then again, Salax is a place with little resources to burn. As long as a bot can still do its job, the owner will have it fixed time and time again until its artificial nervous system shuts down for good. 

That’s how Hoshi ended up in your lab the first time. 

There’s a childlike curiosity in his gaze when he wakes up after you check if all his wires are in place and if his code remains uncorrupted. It almost feels like seeing a baby open its eyes for the first time, but you know better than to associate human traits with something that’s anything but. 

“Horanghae,” Hoshi says without any real context as he bares his fingers at you, while Hyunjin, the dancer who brought him here alongside Jisung, groans in contempt.

“That’s the first thing he said when Chan-hyung booted him up too,” he sighs. “Is it like some starting screen sound effect or something? What does that even mean?”

As things stand, you don’t know either. But seeing that Hoshi isn’t glitching anymore makes a wave of relief wash over you in a rather unexpected way. While it isn’t the first time you’ve had to fix a humanoid robot, you don’t work much on machines that grin at you so wide, their eyes disappear.

Then again, there’s always room for firsts.

“Why’d you choose to go here after you escaped?”

You chose to ask Hoshi the question that’s been weighing on your mind despite having little to no reassurance of the ingenuity of his answer. You’re aware that though Automatons—especially Level 1’s—are sentient, you have zero background on their psychological makeup, the thought process behind their decisions, everything but the baseline components of their hardware. 

Hoshi hums for a moment, wincing when you accidentally nick one of the wires directly connected to the nerves on his thigh. “I dunno. I just wanted to dance.”

“Hm. And you thought you’d be able to do that here?” 

He nods as if it was a practiced response. Maybe it is. “Yeah. My old mechanic told me Salax is a place where all sorts of dancers flock together. I kinda wanted to go with Wonwoo when we all escaped, but…I wanted to dance even more.”

Whoever that mechanic was, they must’ve left out the part where your home planet is quite literally a den for one’s deepest, darkest desires. Dancers at clubs are just merely scratching the tip of the iceberg. The depravity of Salax’s denizens and visitors alike goes even further than that, but you suppose it’s not the right time to disillusion such an innocent bot so early in his new career.

After all, Chan’s club might be like any other salacious establishment out there, but from what you know about him through Minho and Jisung, he isn’t the type to just throw a clueless Automaton into becoming a nightly escort. You’ll let Hoshi live out his dream to keep dancing on whatever stage he sets his eyes on—even if that means he’ll start frequenting your lab for regular maintenance checkups.

“Where’s Jisung?” 

The question surprises you a little when Hoshi articulates it while you’re in the middle of tidying up your work table. Normally, he’d be out of the lab once you were done and whichever human dancer is chaperoning him for the day would pay for the services you rendered and they’d be on their merry way back to the main district. 

It’s completely out of character for him to ask questions. You weren’t even aware that he knew Jisung’s name, which makes you wonder…

Does he know yours? You’ve never really introduced yourself to the machines you end up tinkering with on your work table. 

Choosing not to dwell on it, you instead respond with, “Jisung is…at the hospital. He goes there every weekend.”

“Hospital,” Hoshi repeats the word as if it was something he’s only hearing about the first time. “My mechanic had to go to the hospital because she was sick one time. I didn’t see her for a while. Will Jisung be okay? Why is he in the hospital?”

You didn’t think sentient robots would have such a complex sense of self that they’re actually capable of empathy. It makes you stare at Hoshi, who’s staring back at you with a look asking for confirmation, and the unreadable expression on your face melts into soft laughter. 

Your reaction, however, confuses the Automaton a little. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just amusing for me that you care that much about someone who’s constantly threatening to disassemble your parts and sell them in the intergalactic black market.”

“Well, if he needs them, I don’t mind.”

“If you let Jisung do that, you wouldn’t be able to dance anymore,” you point out before locking your toolbox, casting him a pointed look. “Will you really be alright with that? Not being able to do the thing that brought you here in the first place?”

Hoshi’s face scrunches up for a moment—as if he’s taking his time to actually think about his answer. Another speck of amusement prickles your chest. He has such human mannerisms that if you didn’t constantly see what’s underneath the clothes the bar provides him with, you never would’ve thought he was a bot.

“It would suck, but… Automatons were made to serve the humans around us, weren’t we?” he wonders out loud. “If my purpose is to get chopped up for parts, then I don’t really have any qualms with that.”

“Your purpose was to entertain millions of people across the galaxy as an idol group,” you deadpan. “But here you are in Salax, light years away from the rest of your members. You can cut the moral bullshit, Hoshi. We’re all selfish degenerates here anyway.”

For the first time, his expression twists into a frown. “I’m afraid I don’t understand…?”

“You don’t have to. It’s not that much of a big deal.” You shake your head and at the same time, you hear the sound of someone rapping their knuckles on the door to your lab. “Oh, Felix is already here. Good luck with tonight’s show.” 

“You didn’t answer me.”

You can almost hear the pout in Hoshi’s voice, prompting you to cast him a sidelong glance. “Answer what?”

“Why is Jisung in the hospital?”

You let out your umpteenth sigh of the evening, opening the door to your lab to reveal a dressed-to-kill Felix that smiles and waves at the two of you.

“His older brother is sick and Jisung always goes to the hospital to take care of him on weekends,” you explain as simply as you could. “Does that finally sate your curiosity?” 

It takes him a few moments to process the information he’d just been told, but Hoshi eventually breaks into that familiar, eye-crinkling grin—clearly satisfied with your answer.

“It did. Thank you, Giz.”

Well, that’s not quite your name, but you suppose it’ll do.

For Hoshi’s next checkup, you immediately sense that something’s amiss.

Typically, the Automaton waltzes into your lab and hefts himself on your work table before you can even get a chance to say hello to both him and his assigned chaperone. Today, it’s Minho but unlike last week’s visit, Jisung is here to lighten up the atmosphere in his usual Jisung fashion. 

Though it’s not enough to conceal the obvious discombobulation your patient is currently experiencing.

“You two,” you call out, referring to the only other humans inside the lab. “Can you step out for a while? I’m gonna talk to Hoshi.”

Jisung, of course, is quick to initiate his rapid-fire questions. “What? Why would you need some alone time with a sexy bot, Giz? You’re not becoming one of those deranged mechanics who gets off with their Automatons, right?” 

“Quit yapping and just let her do her job,” Minho scolds before dragging Jisung out of the lab by the wrist. But he doesn’t leave before yelling over his shoulder. “Just call us when you’re done!”

When Minho pulls the door shut and the automatic locks come into place, you turn to Hoshi with an inquisitive look.

“What happened?” 

The question is met with a wince—as if you took out a cigarette and burned his silicone skin with the smoldering edge. Hoshi makes it a point to avoid your eyes, which only further confirms your theory that something is most definitely up.

“I…had my first client the other day.”

Ah.

While you haven’t personally dabbled in the services being offered by the red light district, you’ve been friends with Minho long enough to pick up on the basics. With how much attention Hoshi has been garnering for himself, it was only a matter of time before Chan would let him entertain their club’s regulars in a way that he was probably never taught as an idol.

After all, Level 1s are considered the purest of all the Automaton classes. You’ve always wondered what would happen if they were exposed to activities of the sexual kind, but from the uneasy look on Hoshi’s face, you’re afraid it might not have been a great first time.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” 

It feels a little silly, playing therapist for a literal machine. But the longer you serve as Hoshi’s regular mechanic here on Salax, the more you realize that things would be less stressful if you treated him just like you would treat any other human being out there.

He’s an Automaton—a robot—but because of the groundbreaking discovery of their ability to become sentient several decades ago,  you’re more than inclined to hear him out.

“The other dancers helped me prepare. Chan told me time and time again that I didn’t have to do it if I didn’t want to but…” He starts, voice coming out softer than you’re used to—more reserved. “I wanted to. I wanted to be of use to them. I knew that lots of our customers wished for me to become their escort, so I just repaid Chan’s kindness by doing my job.”

Your lips tug into a grimace. “You don’t look very pleased with the outcome though.”

Hoshi purses his lips and that alone is already an answer.

You don’t pester him any further than that. Instead, you quietly instruct him to take off his shirt and lie on the table like he always does. Hoshi complies surprisingly quickly—following your orders with clockwork precision. He’s in position merely ten seconds after you gave the word.

When you perform your regular examination beneath his chest plate, nothing seems out of turn. Part of you wants to check the circuitry inside his head just to make sure he’s doing alright up there. It’s been a while since Hoshi has been brought here because of a breakdown, so you haven’t bothered inspecting the wires beneath his artificial skull. You wonder if he even wants to—

“It felt good,” your patient tells you all of a sudden, nearly making you drop the tools you’re using to poke around inside his chest cavity. “I didn’t think it was possible for me to even feel that way, but I did.”

Composing yourself, you manage a small nod. “Okay. Did you enjoy it at least?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you want to do it again?”

“...With her? Not really.”

Hoshi falls silent for the next few minutes once more, which affords you all the silence you need to concentrate on what you’re doing. After closing his chest panel and lubricating the screws on his external joints, he was more or less in the clear. But from the way his uncharacteristic silence still persists, you know that he still has a couple more things on his mind.

“I didn’t like the way she said my name.” 

You glance at Hoshi with a quizzical look, implicitly asking him to elaborate, which he thankfully does in a heartbeat.

“When I was still with the rest of 53V3NT33N, the fans would call out my name and it always felt good. It felt euphoric, even,” he reminisces as he sits up on the table, dark eyes trained on the tiled floor. “But with my client…it was the first time I felt unnerved hearing it come from another person’s mouth. It’s like—like she only saw me as a thing to enjoy. Not someone she loves, like our fans love me.” 

The honesty in his words makes your heart sink. 

Turns out, ridding an Automaton of its figurative innocence isn’t so different from that of a real person. The glittering curiosity that’s always been present in Hoshi’s eyes is nowhere to be found and you feel a deep-seated anger pooling in the pit of your stomach at the knowledge.

“Can you give me a new one?”

Blinking the irritation out of your eyes, you stare at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“A new name,” Hoshi says softly. “I never really liked the name Hoshi. Our management just thought it would make for good business to base my image around tigers. What’s more is that this city has already tainted it for me.” 

The bitter laugh that follows his words has your chest aching with an emotion you can’t name. When was the last time you became this sad on a machine’s behalf, you wonder…

“Are you sure?” you murmur. “I’m not your boss or anything. If there’s anyone who has the right to give you a name, wouldn’t it be Chan?”

Hoshi shakes his head. “No. I want it to be you.”

Humans are already hard to figure out, but with each session you share with Hoshi, you learn that Automatons are even more so. He stares at you with such intense desperation in his eyes that you find it difficult to deny him. So, with a deep breath, you say the first name that pops into your head.

“How about...Soonyoung,” you breathe. “You are powerful because of your innocence and glory combined. It’s obvious in how you haven’t tapped out because of that less-than-stellar time with your first client.”

“Soonyoung…” he whispers under his breath, as if testing how the syllables would taste in his mouth. When the corners of his lips twitch into a smile, you know you’ve struck gold. “Did you just invent what the name means or…?”

“That’s for me to keep and for you to find out.” You shrug. “Well? Do you like your new name?” 

“It’s not just my name. It’s yours, too.”

“...That doesn’t really make a lot of sense.”

Soonyoung laughs. “You’re the one who gave it to me. So it belongs to you, too.”

I belong to you too, you can almost hear him say, but erase the idea from your brain before you can get any more silly thoughts. 

“Well, I think we should go. My sensors tell me that someone is very pissed off on the other side and I’m guessing that Jisung must’ve said something that annoyed Minho again.”

“For a robot, you’re pretty adept at picking up on human emotions,” you point out teasingly.

“Of course I am. I always want to appeal to the emotions of those around me, Y/N. Why do you think I dance my heart out every time I’m in the club?”

Oh. 

He does know your name after all.

That evening, you decided to tag along with the boys to the club—grabbing a table for Jisung and yourself as you watched tonight’s lineup of performers. Soonyoung, with his newfound confidence thanks to the name you bestowed upon him, looks just as breathtaking as he was in the prime of his idol years. You wouldn’t have thought he’d just had an unsavory encounter with a client with how brightly he grins at the audience.

He reminds you a little of daylight breaking through the horizon minutes after dawn—almost blinding in his brilliance, but too precious for you to miss out on.

“What’re you doing?” 

Soonyoung sounds a little annoyed when he glances over his shoulder. Your most loyal patient came in alone for the first time in months for his weekly maintenance check-up, but for some reason, his trusted mechanic is much more interested in something else.

You’re still tinkering with a portable hologram projector that wandered into Jisung’s weekly junk stash—one that your neighbor gave to you as a little plaything that’s been taking up most of your morning trying to figure out. 

“Give me a second,” you grumble as you attempt to salvage the inner workings of the worn out thing with a soldering iron. “I’ve only read about these things in books, and my old mentor said they usually contain the final messages of a ship captain whose spacecraft is about to get destroyed.” 

“That’s weirdly specific of you, don’t you think?” Soonyoung huffs. “Come on. I’ve got a client to meet in two hours and Hyunjin’s being really annoying with this new routine he came up with. I need to go back and practice as soon as I’m done here.” 

You let out a quiet laugh before giving up on the hologram projector. “Oh? Time sure flies, doesn’t it? I could’ve sworn you hated taking up clients just yesterday.” 

He whines. “It’s been half a year since I started doing that!”

“Like I said—time flies!”

Your sessions have grown shorter and shorter with each passing week. Every time you fine-tune Soonyoung’s circuitry, you observe that he’s become less prone to internal malfunctions. You didn’t think it was possible for a Level 1 Automaton to fully adapt to the frequency of the electromagnetic waves in Salax, but Soonyoung has surprised you time and time again. 

Now, he can go on for weeks without powering down to regain his energy. He’s as good as any dancer—both human and robot—can be, and you honestly consider telling him that he doesn’t really have to come in for his weekly check-ups anymore.

Soonyoung, however, doesn’t seem thrilled with the news. 

“What do you mean I don’t have to come here anymore?” He pouts.

“There’s nothing left for me to check, big guy,” you sigh as you seal his chest panel back up. “You’ve been stable for months now. I don’t even charge Chan for your check-ups anymore since everything is relatively normal.”

“But if I don’t get any check-ups, can I still come here?”

You make a face at him. “What for?”

“To hang out! Minho and Jisung do it all the time. Although Jisung always barges into the club uninvited and we have to stop Minho from beating him up…”

His invite perplexes you more than it flatters you because… You’ve never encountered any cases where an Automaton would willingly go out of its way to spend time with a human that doesn’t hold any sort of authority over it. 

They’re sentient, yes, but at the end of the day, those emotions that others trick themselves into believing that bots can feel are just a clever arrangement of ones and zeros. It’s easy to lose oneself into one’s own delusions when in need of a little company, but you know that you aren’t that desperate for companionship. 

It’s always just been you and the bots and other machines you fix for a living. Well, maybe Minho and Jisung when they’re not busy trying to piss each other off. You don’t need to hang out with Soonyoung. 

And yet…

“Fine,” you relent with little resistance, feigning nonchalance by fluttering back to the projector you’ve been trying to salvage. “Just don’t make too much of a racket or I’ll kick you out.”

Soonyoung beams at your agreement, tugging his shirt back on before shuffling towards you and embracing you from behind. The suddenness of the gesture obviously catches you by surprise. You nearly drop the portable holo projector, but Soonyoung’s reaction time is quite phenomenal. 

“Hey, don’t drop it. It’s already been through a lot.” 

Still unnerved by the feel of his beefy, synthetic arms wrapped around your frame, you glance at him warily. “You talk like it’s some sentient creature.”

“It is! Well, by some degree, I guess,” Soonyoung chuckles before flipping the thing over in his hand. “Machines are just like people too. If you listen close enough, you can hear what they want to tell you.”

“Uh-huh,” you drawl before disentangling yourself from his embrace before you could implode from embarrassment. If he notices just how flustered you are, he doesn’t show it. “What’s this thing trying to tell you then?”

“Its creator hid the switch inside the motherboard, but you’re damaging it with a soldering iron. You just need to look for it harder.” Soonyoung hands the gadget back to you with a warm smile. “Well, I’ve gotta go now. Hopefully, when I go hang out with you, that thing will already be fixed.” 

Soonyoung prances out of the lab with a skip to his step before you can even give your own input. When you hear the front door of your house click shut, you grab your toolbox with a withering sigh before trying a different approach to your current predicament.

To your chagrin, it’s just as Soonyoung said—the switch was hidden somewhere beneath the motherboard and you were able to witness a space cadet’s last five minutes of life. 

He talked about how much he missed home, how he wished he just died on Earth instead of being launched into space after the implosion of the sun of the first solar system. Then, he left a message for a woman that used to be his childhood sweetheart—saying that it was only a matter of time before they were reunited. Before you can glean any more information about the cadet, the feed was cut off and hologram flickered out. 

The entire experience leaves you dumbfounded for about five minutes. A hologram from over a hundred years ago just wound up in Jisung’s junk stash. What are the odds?

“Giz? Are you in here?”

Speaking of Jisung, the devil himself weasels his way into your lab just when you’re done tidying up your little experiment for today. You’re just about to tell him what you saw in the holo projector, but the look on his face makes you pause.

The cheerful, pain-in-the-ass neighbor of yours seems a little…exhausted. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and his cheeks look a bit thinner than you remember. Jisung is the kind of person that rarely lets the things that bother him show on his face, so you’re a little concerned to see him in such a state right now.

“Jisung, what’s wrong?” 

He doesn’t even hesitate. “It’s Jieun… He’s—He needs a heart transplant. If he doesn’t get a replacement in eight weeks, he’ll die. I can’t handle that, Y/N. I can’t lose him. He’s the only family I’ve got left…”

You panic internally somewhat when Jisung starts rambling in front of you, tears streaking his face as the man who you thought was always a step ahead of everybody starts to crumble before you. You’re not expert in consoling people who direly need it, but you’re at least rational enough to lead him out of your stuffy lab and back to the comfort of your living room.

There, you give Jisung a glass of water and several minutes to catch his breath.

Once he calms down, he speaks.

“I’ve already outsourced a compatible donor,” he murmurs. “It should all be in the clear now, but the problem right now is money. The shitty healthcare system on this planet won’t greenlight any transplants unless everything is paid in full. I-I can’t come up with the money they want from me in less than two months.”

Fuck. He’s in a tight spot then. “Oh, Jisung…”

“But I’ve thought of a way that might work if you help me.”

You flash him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Jisung’s throat bobs before letting out a shuddering breath. You only notice how bloodshot his eyes are when he leans closer to tell you about his so-called plan.

“Some intergalactic guards have been spotted around the main district lately. Word from the street is that they’re still searching for the other members of that idol group that escaped Earth and that a generous reward would be given to everyone who’ll cooperate,” he whispers conspiratorially, and from those few sentences alone, you’re already dreading what he’s planning. “If I lead them to Hoshi, I should be able to raise enough money for Jieun’s surgery. Enough that I can even split the reward between the two of us!”

“No,” you tell him sharply. “You’re not going to sell out Soo—Hoshi like that. He practically lives here already.”

“He’s just a fucking bot, Giz,” Jisung snaps. “The worst they’ll do if they catch him is give him time out for a few days until he’s back to being the idol that everyone knows and loves. If I don’t get the money I need for my brother’s transplant, he’s going to die.”

You hold Jisung’s intense stare despite not having a good enough comeback. He’s right. Soonyoung isn’t even supposed to be here at all. And if surrendering him to the cops meant Jisung would have the means to help his brother survive, the only logical thing to do is give him a hand.

But then you remember the way Soonyoung’s eyes disappear behind the widest of grins whenever he’s enjoying himself. How he trusted you enough to confide in his troubles during his first client booking, the way his eyes sparkled when you first called him Soonyoung—

It’s not just my name. It’s yours, too.

“I can’t help you, Jisung,” you murmur. “If you’re going to go about the situation like this, I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

Your neighbor and long-time friend nods once, twice before getting up from your couch. Guilt bites into your chest as Jisung leads himself to the front door, and you could’ve sworn your heart sank into your stomach when he closes it behind him.

In the ear-splitting silence, you wonder if there’s any way to save someone without sacrificing anybody else.

While it’s true that you’ve never taken up the type of entertainment that Salax is famous for, that doesn’t mean you’re completely unaware of what goes on during those sorts of transactions.

Despite himself, Minho can be a bit of a chatterbox especially when he’s had one drink too many. There was a time when he told you about how he was booked for the night by a married couple and they edged him until he was in tears on the mattress. Then, he proceeded to share that he was quite literally incapacitated for days because the wife had exceptional skill with her strap-ons. 

You don’t really hear these kinds of stories from Soonyoung. The possible reasons are 1.) Automatons don’t have a sense of gossip and see no benefit in sharing the gritty details of their sex lives, and 2.) He just doesn’t see you as someone worth telling said gritty details about.

The second possibility gnaws at you more than it should. You don’t really care about Soonyoung’s nightly escapades. You’re just his mechanic. As long as he doesn’t fuck himself up like he used to when he first started working at the club, you’ll have no complaints.

But after a late-night grocery store run, you unknowingly run into Soonyoung and someone who you presume to be one of his clients. They’re right outside the building of Chan’s club, and Soonyoung is obviously romancing the woman who paid for his company that night by caging her against the wall, whispering something in her ear with a sordid smirk.

You’ve never seen him like this. Whenever he’s with you, Soonyoung’s all too-wide smiles and unprovoked hugs. The more he hangs out with you during his free time, the more difficult it is for you to picture him as that seductive dancer that has charmed everyone who’s anyone on Salax.

Part of you—an irrational part of you—wants to hide him away from the rest of the world. But then you remember you’re just his mechanic and that it would be weird to be feeling this way about an Automaton, of all things.

You manage to brush off the scene you witnessed for a few weeks. Soonyoung still shows up at your house to watch a few movies or help you fix some other bots that come into the shop. He’s excellent company because his robot-to-robot communication skills make your job easier than it used to be.

Until one night, he snuggles up to you on the couch a little too closely—your heart beating a little too fast at the close proximity.

“I don’t get why she has to give up her tail for a man,” he murmurs from where his chin is propped on top of your shoulder, pulling you closer to him whether he knows it or not. “Aren’t there any other mermen that Ariel could just get with?”

“That’s what makes the story interesting, Soonie,” you chuckle, trying not to melt in his embrace despite knowing that the heat of his body is all artificial. “She’s sacrificing everything for love. It’s all part of the human experience.”

Soonyoung scoffs at that. “But Ariel’s a mermaid.” 

“Just shut up and watch the movie.”

Ever the obedient bot, your current company does as he’s told until the credits start rolling and you have to get up to rid yourself of a crick in your neck. You’ve been in the same position for over two hours, having forgotten that Automatons don’t need to move around to get comfortable in their seats. Oversight on your part, really.

But before you can even attempt to crawl out of Soonyoung’s secure embrace, he tugs you back down—forcing you to face him with a puzzled expression.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you tell him. “Let me go, clingy robot.”

He doesn’t budge. Soonyoung simply pins you in place with his firm grip and the heat of his stare, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he’s looking at you the same way he looked at that woman outside of Chan’s club a few nights ago.

“You saw me while I was working, didn’t you?” he murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

You swallow thickly. “W-Why are you apologizing?”

“Because I accidentally introduced myself with the name you gave me,” Soonyoung sighs, lower lip swelling into a pout. “I always go by Hoshi at work, but we’d just finished watching Pocahontas together before I timed in that night.”

“Soonyoung,” you address him warily, unsure of where you should place yourself in this situation. “What are you going on about? That name is yours.”

“And I told you that it’s yours as well, didn’t I?” His laughter is a soft noise that tickles the back of your neck, making gooseflesh prickle the skin of your arms. 

“I’m yours.”

His words make a steady buzz resound in your head, making you second guess if any of this is even real. Did you drink too many pints of beer and are currently hallucinating a Soonyoung that might feel the same way you do about him? That’s not right. Jisung already emptied your fridge of alcoholic beverages months ago and you haven’t bought any new packs since.

But if you’re not intoxicated, why in the world is an Automaton speaking to you as if he’s confessing feelings he doesn’t even have?

“You’re just hung up on the movie, you bucket of bolts,” you grumble, trying to push him off of you to no avail. Fuck. This is all very much real then. “Soonyoung, I’m not playing around.”

“Neither am I,” he whispers. When he leans closer, you don’t feel his breath on your face, don’t hear his heart thundering in his chest because he isn’t human. 

He isn’t human, yet why doesn’t that stop you from wanting him anyway?

“Tell me to get up and leave if you want me to stop,” Soonyoung proposes with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone for good.”

You want him—you want him so fucking bad, it feels like a disease.

“Why’re you only coming for me with this now?” you whisper. “What prompted it?”

The handsome Automaton laughs quietly, caressing your face so delicately, you wonder if he learned to practice it from the countless clients he’s entertained. “I think I’ve always been a little attached to you since I first woke up after breaking down. You’re the one who cured my anxiety, Y/N. It’s only natural for me to feel drawn to you.”

“You’re avoiding the question.” 

“Heh. Fine. Maybe it’s because Ariel inspired me to be a little more like her—to sacrifice everything love.”

…Love? 

Soonyoung loves you? 

It doesn’t make sense. He isn’t supposed to love. Automatons are sentient, but they aren’t capable of a full spectrum of emotions. The mere prospect of it goes against everything you’ve been taught ever since you decided that you wanted to become a mechanic.

But from the way Soonyoung is looking at you alone, you remind yourself that every now and again, there are outliers to all the facts printed on every Automaton textbook you’ve buried your nose in. 

Rationality is your enemy at this point, and you toss all of it to the wind when you yank the front of Soonyoung’s shirt—mending your lips into a kiss that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. His mouth is soft on top of yours, and he moves to the cadence you’ve set so languidly, it almost feels fluid. You gasp into his mouth when Soonyoung curls an arm around your waist, pressing you as close to him as humanly possible.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper. “Want you.” 

He pulls away for a second—not even looking a fraction of how disheveled you are from a single kiss. “Are you sure?” 

The concern in his tone sends a rush straight through your skull. What kind of algorithm allows for an Automaton to express that kind of emotion on its own accord? Are the other idols that escaped with him the same way? You find out that you don’t really know the answers to these questions right now—nor do you want to know.

What you want is for him to be so deep inside you, you’ll feel him for days.

You yank him down for another kiss all while you desperately rid yourself of your once-comfortable and now-stifling clothes. They come off one by one until they’re but a heap on the floor and Soonyoung has the gall to chuckle at your impatience.

“If you wanted me this much, you should’ve just told me sooner,” he whispers, peppering your face with featherlight kisses. “I think I’ve had enough practice to be a good enough lover for you.”

“Mention that so-called practice again and I’ll deactivate your nervous system,” you growl and Soonyoung responds by trailing his mouth across your neck—suckling at the skin above your pulse with a conniving grin. 

Just like any other humanoid Level 1, Soonyoung is soft in all places humans should be. His lips, his skin—everything. While the physics that surrounded an Automaton’s male genitalia are out of your scope of expertise, it’s infinitesimally interesting to know that their cocks work the exact same way as a human’s. Even if there’s no blood coursing through his non-existent veins, Soonyoung still gets hard with just the right stimulus. 

That stimulus being the swell of your breasts because he hasn’t parted from them since he started suckling on the sensitive flesh five minutes ago.

“Soonie,” you whimper, grinding your sopping core against his thigh. “More. Give me more.”

He laughs—a breathless little sound before his gaze flickers up to you so lovingly, it almost hurts. “I thought I was the impatient one between the two of us.”

“Just shut up and fuck me, please.” 

The raw desire in your plea makes the smile disappear from his face. When Soonyoung presses his forehead against yours, his gaze sears into your own so intensely, you’ll still be able to see him with your eyes closed.

“I never thought I’d ever get to hear you beg for me,” he admits, adjusting himself on the couch for your comfort. “I want to hear it again.”

Your Automaton lover doesn’t give you any forewarning that he’ll be pushing the head of his cock inside you. You’re simply greeted by the welcome intrusion of him parting your slick walls—little to no preparation needed because of how much you’re dripping onto the cushions. Soonyoung hisses between his teeth, a ravenous look that you’ve never seen sitting on his face, which has you clamping down deliciously against his length.

“Do you feel it?” he murmurs, sinking inch by fucking inch into you. “Do you feel me inside you?”

You feel him everywhere. All of your senses are overloaded with him, him, him. Right now, he isn’t Hoshi from 53V3NT33N or Hoshi, the rising star of the red light district.

He’s Soonyoung. Your precious, irreplaceable Soonyoung.

“Yes,” you moan out loud, fucking your hips back onto his to generate the friction you so direly needed. “Deeper, Soonyoung. Want you deeper.”

And he gives you just that. 

Soonyoung pistons his hips with practiced ease, not a single pant to be heard from him as his cock plunges in and out of your wet heat. You pull him into your embrace like you’re afraid he’ll disappear if you don’t hold onto him tightly enough and your lover quickly picks up on the message—wrapping his strong arms around you as he mercilessly pounds you into the sofa.

Every word you know eludes you as the mind-numbing pleasure frazzles your brain. You can’t even articulate how good it feels to have him ram into you like he wants to leave his mark inside your body forever. You’ve never had sex this toe-curling, and it’s a little pitiful to make that discovery when the one who’s fucking you to an inch of your life isn’t even human.

But that’s what makes it feel right in the midst of its wrongness. 

When you come apart on his cock the first time, it makes you wonder if that’s what it feels like to fall from grace. The creeping high leading up to your release as you free-fall into oblivion should’ve been daunting, but all that sings in your veins is pure ecstasy as Soonyoung fucks you through your orgasm. 

He leans down to capture your lips, devouring your mouth in a way that only means he’s staking his claim. It’s a kiss that bruises—a kiss that persists. And you barely hear yourself scream his name into his mouth when you finally come down from bliss.

Just when you thought you could finally let yourself breathe, Soonyoung gently turns you around on the couch—forcing your back into an arch as he props you up by the knees. Still disoriented from your last orgasm, you don’t immediately process what he’s trying to do until you feel the hardness of his cock nudging against the ridge of your ass.

That’s when you remember that Automatons do not get tired. 

Fuck.

“You better be ready for me,” Soonyoung chuckles into your ear before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. 

“If you want me, you’re getting all of me.”

In the aftermath, you let yourself look at Soonyoung even with your eyes streaked with tears. He’s smiling at you like you’re the most precious thing in all the galaxies combined and you’re too fucked out to not melt into his embrace when he engulfs you in the heat of his arms.

You love him, you think. 

Loving a machine that shouldn’t be capable of love is contradictory in every sense of the word. He’s a complete softie whenever he hangs out with you, but would pass as a predator when he’s with his clients. He’s a bot that loves to dance, but would give that up in a heartbeat if others needed him for another purpose. 

Then again the lines have started to blur considerably since Soonyoung started fucking you into incoherence. Pain and pleasure, human and not human, love and lust—

“I love you,” you murmur, only half conscious as Soonyoung carries you to your bed. “Soonyoung, I love you…”

A soft laugh rumbles deep in his chest as he tucks you in—replacing the warmth of his body with the comfort of your blanket. You frown at the sudden change, but he’s tired you out too much for you to hold up any sort of protest. 

As he stands before the doorway, you manage to wrench your eyes open just a tad—enough to see the ray of sunshine standing before you with a loving look on his face. He even does that little pose with his fingers clenched like a tiger’s claws—the one he did when he opened his eyes after you managed to fix him the first time.

Horanghae… That’s what he called it, right?

You’re too exhausted to notice the pained undertones that lurk beneath Soonyoung’s smile, but perhaps it’s something that you can deal with once morning comes. 

If he’s still there at all.

“That took you a while.”

Jisung’s voice is clipped when Soonyoung emerges from your house with an indifferent look on his face. Standing right behind him are a bunch of familiar faces—namely 53V3NT33N’s main manager along with a handful of guards that used to keep them tightly locked up back in their main facility on Earth.

He never thought he’d have to see them again.

“If I’m leaving this place for good, I’m not going to go without giving her something to remember me by,” Soonyoung grumbles, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweats as he rejoins his former colleagues. “Is it true? You’ll give Jisung enough money for his brother’s transplant if I come back?”

His manager nods once. “Positive. The reward money will be doubled since you returned without resistance. But I cannot guarantee the degree of the punishment you’ll be facing because of your escape.” 

Right. Of course there’ll be consequences for his own actions. But Soonyoung is just glad that he got to have you at least once in his robotic life before he has to turn himself back in.

“Jisung,” Soonyoung—no, Hoshi calls out. “Can you promise to take care of her? If you don’t, I’ll personally fly back here to kill you with my own two hands.”

“Hoshi,” one of the guards grunts behind him, shoving his back with a warning glare. “No violence. Even minor threats like that will make your sentence even heavier.”

He doesn’t care. Not really.

“Just give the man his money and let’s go,” he grumbles, forcing himself to turn away from the direction of your house before his code malfunctions and he ends up bolting back inside. 

His manager nods before one of the assistants presents Jisung with a suitcase full of enough wads of cash to fund his brother’s surgery and more. There’s a look on your neighbor’s face that Hoshi can only identify as regret, but there’s really no use for that now.

Even if Jisung didn’t need the money from turning over a rogue Automaton, Hoshi still would’ve surrendered eventually. When word got around that his hunters had finally tracked him down to Salax, he already knew his days were numbered. 

But despite knowing all that, it doesn't stop him from wishing he had more time.

When daylight comes and the sun lights up the darkness of your room, you squint at how bright it shines even through the curtains. You’re sore all over and it only takes a single glance at your body to realize that maybe having multiple rounds of sex with a tireless Automaton wasn’t one of the best choices you’ve made in your life. 

That, and you’re going to have to give Soonyoung a very long lecture about the physiological differences between his body and yours. And that leaving without waking you up is a major foul when it comes to sleeping with someone you care about.

Right after freshening up and soothing every bit of tender flesh, you go about your day like usual—doing chores, checking if Jisung is home (he’s not), and holing yourself up in your lab to work on a few projects you’ve been procrastinating long enough. 

But just when you’re about to bust open your toolbox, you notice a familiar gadget sitting on top of your work table. The same work table that you could’ve sworn you made sure to clear out the previous evening.

It’s another portable hologram projector—one that looks exactly like the old artifact you managed to revive thanks to Soonyoung’s intervention. This one looks less shabby than the one Jisung gave you back then, and you realize that there’s a note stuck to the bottom.

The switch is right beneath the motherboard. Don’t forget! - S

Huh. That guy had the time to put together a hologram for you, but he couldn’t be bothered to wake you up before he left? The nerve of some Automatons, really…

None the wiser about your newfound lover’s actual whereabouts, you followed the instructions Soonyoung whispered into your ear several months ago before letting it play.

⟢ end notes: yay you're at the end of it! thank you so much for reading <3 thank you so so much to bee for being big-brained enough to put this collab together. i've always wanted to 1.) write a sci-fi fic and 2.) write more for soonyoung so this opportunity was a good avenue for both <3 i'm just bummed bc i procrastinated this for too long and kind of ended up with a subpar fic, but !! i still kinda enjoyed building the world around soonyoung and yn and their friends :') in another life, i would've fleshed this out properly, but for now, i'll leave you all with this! do check out the other fics in the collab bc it will definitely expand on this massive universe that we all worked hard to put together <3

this is part of @idyllic-ghost's svt sci-fi collab!

[agaypanic]

uhhhh ethan accidentally brushing against you and getting a vision of the two of you fucking

-📖

🫢🫢

plot point in an early chapter that later gets revealed perhaps⁉️

imagine he has that vision, and then when the lab rats come to whitechapel, he has a similar vision but this time there’s a third person there but he has no idea who it is

[celestial-bell-drop]

FIRST PRESSURE FIC

Remember that one prompt I said I'd do? Yeah this is it

[kimmie2me]

⠀⠀♡⠀ ͏͏͏͏͏͏ᴾʳᵉᶜⁱⁿᶜᵗ ᴾᵘˡˢᵉ ~★彡

⠀༘⋆⠀~⠀detective!bakugou katsuki x AFAB!rookie cop!reader mini series

࿐ꔫ︰ 𐑂꒷꒦₊⠀◞⠀Notes

✦⠀Quirkless au , aged up characters , modern setting, police setting, sfw (future nsfw perchance?) , fem reader, sorta based off "the rookie" , bakugou WILL be a jerk in the first few chapters but that's so canon of him so moving on..

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

࿐ꔫ︰ 𐑂꒷꒦₊⠀◞⠀Synopsis

✧⠀In the bustling Musutafu police precinct, you’re a rookie cop fresh out of training, already in hot water after a rookie misstep nearly derails a high-stakes case. As punishment, you’re reassigned to the precinct’s most notorious detective, Katsuki Bakugou—a brilliant but abrasive investigator whose success rate is unmatched, only rivaled by his explosive temper. Working alongside Bakugou is no small feat, as his demanding standards and biting remarks make every shift a test of endurance and resolve.

Assigned to prove your worth to keep your precious badge, you navigate tense patrols, dangerous investigations, and moments of unexpected vulnerability that hint at a deeper connection beneath Bakugou’s rough exterior. When a crime syndicate’s threat looms larger than ever, the reluctant partnership turns into a battle of trust and bottled emotions. Heated clashes and fleeting moments of unguarded honesty blur the line between duty and desire, sparking a tension that neither of you can ignore. Can Bakugou’s ironclad defenses withstand the spark ignited between you, or will they crumble under the weight of what’s been simmering all along?

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀˚｡⋆୨୧˚⠀⠀⠀new chapter every other day unless said otherwise .ᐟ.ᐟ⠀⠀⠀˚୨୧⋆｡˚

⠀