#before assessing the damage to the other plants

[midnottart]

Until today I thought my plant looked sick because I wasn't very good lately with watering. In retrospect my household was long overdue for a plant apocalypse.

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STUCK!

♰ featuring: nagi seishiro + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: thank you all so much for supporting my last work as much as you did. it really means so much to me that people genuinely enjoy my writing and my content! now, as my second-ever work, i would appreciate it greatly if you would continue to support my work by reading, liking, and reblogging! also, I tried to make their sections as even as possible, but i'm a ryusei simp so uhhh enjoy!

sypnosis: in which you find yourself stuck in a rather precarious position and your boyfriend decides to "help" you. not without proper payment first, though. wc: 3.4k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. SMUT. fem/fem-bodied reader. stuckage. shidou is a warning on his own. accidental choki abuse (nagi). dry humping. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. creampie/breeding. spanking. name-calling/dirty talk (ryusei). ꒷꒦

NAGI SEISHIRO.

It was a normal weekend, unlike any other. It was just before noon, and you were cleaning your and Seishiro’s shared apartment while he was at the gym with Reo. You were diligently working to remove the accumulated dust from your wooden dresser with a disinfectant wipe that had a coconut scent when, all of a sudden, your hand bumped into something rather hard.

“Choki!!”

You shrieked, watching in horror as your boyfriend’s beloved potted cactus flew off of the dresser and knocked into the wall behind it. Everything moved in slow motion, and you could only gawk in horror as the pot spun once, twice, and then tumbled behind the dresser. You grimaced inwardly, awaiting the sound of shattering ceramics and the dull shuffling of displaced dirt, but it never came. Instead, the sound of the pot sliding down the wall and "gracefully" hitting the floor was heard instead.

With baited breath, you grabbed your phone, turning it to flashlight mode. You used it as a visual aid as you peered behind the dresser to assess the damage, sighing with relief when you saw Choki, Seishiro’s child, lying almost undisturbed between the wall and the backboard of the dresser.

Now here comes the difficult part, moving the dresser.

Kicking off your fuzzy house slippers to give yourself some traction, you grabbed the back end of one side and mustered all of your strength to shove the heavy thing out of the way—slowly, of course. Choki’s life was at stake here. However, you were only able to move the heavy thing out of the way just enough so that you could slip part of your body inside to reach for the plant. It was still a very tight fit.

Getting on your knees, you maneuvered between the tiny space you created, squeezing your arms, shoulders, and ribcage between them until the tension finally gave way at your waist. Breathing out in relief, your fingertips finally managed to grace the pot’s edge, pulling it into your grasp.

“Got . . . cha . . !”

You tried to shuffle backward, but you couldn’t. Attempting once more, you would come to realize that the dresser and the wall had some sort of death grip on your hips, rooting you in place. You were stuck. Trapped. And Nagi wouldn’t be home for another 30 minu—

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

You breathed, overjoyed at your boyfriend’s sudden voice. He always had the habit of moving in complete silence, despite his massive size. You hadn’t even heard him come home.

“Sei, oh, thank god! C-Can you pull me out? I think I’m stuck!”

You could barely make out the sound of his soft footsteps padding against the wooden floor as he made his way over to you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he stood behind you, yet he made no effort to save you just yet.

“How did you even manage to do something like this?”

His confused tone held an unamused lilt, one that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I was cleaning the dresser, and I accidentally knocked Choki over. They’re fine! B-But I can’t get out . . .”

Still nothing.

Was he mad? Disappointed? Since you could not see him, you could not tell. You were aware, though, that his gaze was "burning" into you. You shifted, partially in discomfort, as you made a point to wiggle your hips so that he could focus on the task at hand. As a result, you could hear him drawing in a sharp breath through his teeth. Before you could ask him what he was doing, you felt him kneel behind you. His two strong hands came into contact with the exposed skin around your hips, where your shirt was rising. He did not pull, though. The opposite happened; you felt him pressing against you, his bulge delightfully nestling against your folds through your thin pajama shorts.

“Seishiro?!”

He effectively silenced your confused warble in exchange for a surprised squeal when his open palm placed a firm smack on one of your cheeks. All the while, he shamelessly ground himself against your core, stating, “That was for Choki." You swore that you could hear the pout in his voice when he spoke.

“Removing you would be a hassle. Besides, I’m tired.”

B-But what about me?!

You wanted to protest, however, you refrained. You felt his lithe fingers pinch the fabric just over your clit as he pulled it to the side, resting it against your ass and exposing your pretty folds to his prying eyes. You heard his hands rustling with his sweatpants and boxers before you felt him tapping the pretty pink-flushed tip of his cock, which you loved so much, against your sensitive bud causing you to keen and your toes to curl.

“Wish you could see how pretty you look right now.” He mumbled, teasingly pressing the head of his cock against your entrance a few times, but never pushing in fully.

“I-If you got me out, Sei, then maybe I could . .” Your voice was unsteady as your anticipation began to build in the form of your puffy folds beginning to leak for him, the lewd sounds of it squelching around his tip echoing in your quiet room.

He answered you with silence and actions rather than with words. In one swift motion, he pushed entirely into you, and without waiting for you to adjust, he began to thrust his hips into you at a steady pace. You clenched around him, nails scratching against the backboard of the dresser, the wall, the floor—anything to brace yourself from your boyfriend’s fervent pace. Once he got started, he wouldn’t stop until he spilled entirely inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cum.

“S-Sei, it’s too much!” You mewled, yet your body writhed with pleasure. You always said this, and yet, he knew you could take it. You've done it many times before. That’s why he reached further into the space you had created to bunch up the back of your his shirt and used it as leverage as though he were pulling your hair to pummel into you faster and deeper. Your ass rhythmically pounded on his pelvis, sending a lewd ringing through your own ears as it echoed off the bedroom walls. Something about this precarious situation you were in mixed with the feeling of Seishiro’s cock hitting those sweet spots inside of you, enthralled you more than usual. You were close and he could feel it.

“Gonna cum f’me, already?” He grunted as his other hands squeezed your hip, their blunt nails digging into your flesh. His moans were heavenly, a sound you longed to hear, as your walls fluttered around him. The hand that was on your hip pressed itself against the edge of the dresser, shoving it effortlessly to the side and thus freeing you from your confines. Although he appeared so unsuspecting, Seishiro’s strength, when he decided to use it, was frightening. Your lower half fell to the ground, your breasts and cheek smushing against the wooden floors as you felt his soft fingertips rubbing fast, furious circles around your clit.

“Oh my god, S-Sei, I-I’m gonna—”

“C’mon, make a mess for me, pretty.”

You did exactly that, creaming delightfully around his cock while mewing in ecstasy. Before long, you could feel Sei's hot seed bursting inside of you and filling up your pretty pussy to the brim, as well as his hips stuttering against you. Both of you were panting as he pulled out of you, your releases dribbling out of you and pooling beneath you onto the floor.

You finally managed to get off your sore knees and elbows as you turned to face your lover with trembling limbs. It was at this point that you noticed Seishiro's eyes, which were burning with something fierce and unknown, were boring into your own. His eyes resembled that hungry expression he would have when his ego started to rule him on the field.

“Let’s do it again, Y/N. On the bed this time.”

God, he was going to be the death of you someday.

SHIDOU RYUSEI.

You had a rather eventful day. Starting off leisurely in the morning, you and your boyfriend Ryusei enjoyed a pleasant brunch together before deciding to head out to the beach that day. You had to pick a spot with some privacy because Ryusei insisted he was only there to “freshen up his tan”, which required him to be in the nude, while you were there to enjoy his prescene, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, and the sensation of sand between your toes. Only a short while ago, the two of you finally arrived home. Ryusei was currently taking his own shower, as you had already finished yours.

Relaxing on the couch in nothing more than an oversized shirt and your panties, you had decided to turn on some Netflix with the intention of finding either a good or a fun-bad horror flick to watch, when all of a sudden, the slippery lotion residue on your hands caused the remote to slip from your grasp and tumble onto the floor and skid beneath the coffee table. You groaned, head tossing back with exasperation, as this minor inconvenience was nearly enough to ruin your entire night and make you not even want to watch a movie anymore. Nonetheless, you sulked off the couch and sank to your knees, searching for the offending culprit beneath the coffee table. Somehow, it had managed to slide to the other side of the room, mocking you as it lay motionless between the walkway in the middle of the coffee table and the television. Any normal person would’ve simply gotten up and walked around the table to retrieve it, however, you were not like most people. I mean, look at your taste in men, for starters. Not to mention, you’re incredibly stubborn.

Instead, you crept beneath the table's glass top and between the second shelf, stretching your slender fingers as far as they could reach until they touched the black exterior of the remote. However, it was a little too far away for you to grasp, and your touch, combined with your wooden floors, only served to push it further away from you. You swore, glaring at the thing as though it had just offended your loved one, huffing in defeat as you decided to rise and walk to the remote.

But you couldn’t.

Your brow furrowed in perplexity as you placed one palm flat on the ground and the other on the surface beneath you, attempting but failing to push yourself back. You were wedged between the table's glass top and bottom shelves, flat on your chest. The more you wiggled, the further you seemed to wedge yourself in between the two surfaces that held you taut.

You stopped, dumbfounded. As much as you dreaded calling Ryusei for help because you knew he would taunt you endlessly instead of helping you . . . you did not have many other options.

“Ah, Ryu!!” Your voice carried through the hallways, hoping that he was out of the shower to hear you yell.

“. . . Yeah, babe?”

His voice made your heart lurch in your chest. You were already debating whether you should just say nevermind and try to wiggle out on your own, or put your pride aside and ask for his assistance. In the end, the latter would be victorious.

“Could . . . Could you come here for a second? . . . Please.” Your plea was quiet, your cheeks already burning with shame as you awaited your impending doom.

You raised your gaze towards the master bedroom, where he was currently. How cruel fate was to put you in a position where you would be forced to watch him approach. Each second felt like an eternity until you heard the soft padding of Shidou's feet leaving the carpeted bedroom to shuffle along the wooden floors, only to abruptly pause.

Sheepishly, you peeked up at him through your lashes to where he stood, chest bare, droplets of water dripping from his unstyled hair and body, a towel that he used for his hair wrapped around his shoulders, and a towel wrapped dangerously low around his waist. His face was expressionless, his fuchsia oculars taking in the scene before them in silence. Your shy, embarrassed gaze, the position of you between the coffee table, and the cursed remote only inches away from his own feet.

“—You’re stuck, aren’t you?”

How you wished you were facing the other way to avoid seeing the way that maniacal grin that nearly resembled the Joker's formed on his face and how his cat-like eyes narrowed at you in amusement at your misfortune.

“ . . Yes.”

He barked out a laugh at you, his head tossed back in sheer, unabashed mania, much to your chagrin. Even though you knew this would happen, your cheeks couldn’t help but burn with frustration and shame. “I know, very funny. Now, could you help me out here, please? My knees are getting sore.”

Despite your whines, his mockery would continue, his large hands grasping both ends of the towel that rested on his shoulders as he waltzed over to you leisurely. “Hmm, I dunno, babe~.” He continued walking until he crouched right before you, his legs spread wide enough for you to see that he was already semi-hard beneath the fabric. Of course, he would be aroused by your misfortune. Tearing your gaze away from his manhood, which was only inches away from your face, you peered up at him only to see him grinning mercilessly down at you with mischief twinkling in his eye. “I gotta admit, I like this view of you. How’d ya know doggy was my favorite position~?”

Probably because you’ve put me in it multiple times before, asshole. You wouldn’t say that, though. You didn’t want to prolong your torment any further.

“Ryuseii.” You whined, mustering your best pitiful glance in an attempt to draw even an ounce of sympathy from your demon of a lover. “Please?” You tried with a pout.

You couldn’t tell if your attempt worked, however, with the way Ryusei’s feral grin would reduce to a playful smirk, you figured that you have gotten through to him. He raised his hand, patting your head twice and making sure to tousle your hair while he was at it. “I’ll see what I can do, cutie.”

He made a move to rise to his feet but paused mid-squat, “No promises, though.”

You waited until he was out of your view to roll your eyes at him, hands bracing themselves against the floor as you awaited to be freed from this nightmare. Ryusei sank to his knees behind you, humming aloud as though he were trying to make a big play out of figuring out how to get you out—or how you got there to begin with. His slender digits grasped at your waist, tugging halfheartedly. You knew better than anyone that Ryusei was capable of hoisting you into the air and tossing you around as though you were nothing. That being said, it was beyond obvious to you that he was obviously making a poor attempt on purpose.

“Wow, I dunno, Y/N. You see pre-tty wedged in here . . Maybe this’ll help.”

You had no idea when he had the opportunity to do it, but he had dropped his towel somewhere along the way, and you could feel him rubbing his semi-hard on against your panty-clad ass and making your clothed folds the focal point of attack.

“Ryusei—!” In frustration and arousal, you laboriously dragged out the syllables of his name. As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you knew that something like this was coming.

“Mm, yeah, keep saying my name just like that, baby.” He sighed blissfully, shamelessly now humping himself onto you until he was full mast, his hardened shaft twitching excitedly between your pillowy ass cheeks while his blushed tip beaded with pre. “Hah, shit, that’s it. ‘Could cum right now, all over ya’. You want that, angel? Want me to paint this pretty ass—” He paused, raising his palm high into the air before bringing it down unforgivingly against your rear to accentuate his point. “Look at that. Ya want me to paint this pretty ass with my nut, hm?”

"Yes, please, Ryu . . ?" You said against your better judgment as your thighs pressed against one another and your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

He chuckled throatily, already pulling your panties down your plump thighs until they rested on the backs of your knees. He lined himself up with your already drooling cunt, not wasting any time to push into you with one single thrust. He bottomed out inside of you, drawing all of the breath from your lungs. His pelvis pressed flush against you, blunt nails biting into the flesh of your hips and ass as he greedily pulled you against him. It was almost as if he were trying to force himself further into you than he already could. You whimpered beneath your breath, clenching around his cock as you felt his balls pulsing against your sensitive clit. He had only just entered you, and already he was about to cum.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy.” He snarled through clenched teeth, picking up his pace. “Grippin’ me so tight, suckin’ me in so good, ngh—s-so desperate to be stuffed with a cock.”

His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but he did everything he could to keep bullying his cock into you, drool dribbling over his parted lips. It should be illegal for you to feel this good. It wasn't fair. He wanted to ravish you—take his time turning your cunt into his personal little pocket pussy, his perfect fucktoy, already premolded to the shape of his dick. But damn, he was about to bust, and you were approaching your climax too.

His pace grew relentless, barely giving you time to breathe or even think as he forced your hips to fuck back onto him, drawing a helpless gasp or delighted moan from your pretty lips with each impassioned thrust. You squirmed in his hold, your breath coming out in hot tufts as your end grew near.

“R-Ryu, baby, hah, mphf!!” You could barely get the words out as he fucked you within an inch of your life. “I-I’m close! M-My clit, please! I c-can’t reach it; touch me, plea—”

“No.”

His response was curt—simple, snarled out in what could only be described as a ferocious growl. His movements grew sloppier, his hips faltering in their pace as his cock throbbed heartily inside of you, ready to burst. “You cum on my, ngh, fuckin’ cock or not at all. Ya hear me, y’little cock-lovin’ slut?”

You whined in protest, to which the forward brought his palm down heavily on your already reddening cheeks from just his grip on you alone. If he could’ve reached you, he would’ve had a vice grip on your hair by now. “Answer me, bitch.” He spat with false malice, “Y’gunna cream around my cock? Make this fat dick a mess, hm?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Came your loud, unabashed chorus of unfiltered, unadulterated moans of sheer bliss.

Neither of you could hold back anymore. Ryusei spilled rope after rope of his hot, sticky seed into your abused cunt while your pretty folds creamed around his shaft in a way that could only be described as tantalizing. Silence, aside from both of your spent keens and blissed panting, filled the air around you. Once he was certain you were plugged full with his cum, Ryusei effortlessly snatched your body from between the coffee table, causing your exhausted body to collapse into his lap. As exhausted as he was, he made sure to cup your head so that it didn’t hit the ground too hard. He was always the sweetest when his post-nut clarity hit him. He took in your expression, noticing that your eyes were half-lidded and glassy with fat tears spilling from your waterline; your drool-covered lips were plump, red, and raw with the faintest of indentations along them from your pearly teeth; and your body convulsed and twitched ever so slightly from the sheer intensity of your orgasm. Not to mention the utterly fucked-out and euphoric look on your face.

. . . Ah, shit. He was hard again.

“Still with me, princess? . . Good. Come suck this cock clean and let me ruin that pretty face of yours even more~.♡”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[mysteria157]

Amateur

Nanami Kento x Reader

a/n: writing prompt game with a writer friend that turned into something funny. Pro tip: dont wax yourselves if you can help it.

**Also: while I am so happy you all like this, this was a collaboration. Some words are mine, some are theirs. But all of it is a collective appreciation of the man that is Nanami Kento 💕**

—

You cursed at the calendar, striking off your wax appointment-- today-- with strictly more force than necessary. While you knew Kento cared not which form he received you in, sleek or fuzzy, you couldn't help grieving the loss of the excited shiver he would give when his hand slipped down between peach-soft folds.

You tapped your nails on the wall, one hand planted on your hip. There was a beauty store nearby-- a big one. How hard could waxing yourself be? Surely?

Two hours later, lying half-naked on the sofa with your right labia stuck to your inner thigh with wax, and shrieking every time you tried to wax yourself free, you wondered if ending your life was the easier or harder way out.

This is fine.

You’re almost done right?

You move your thigh, howling into the air as dried wax pulls your skin in a way that’s not natural, reminding you that no you are not almost done.

Ittakes you another excruciating half hour to free one of your folds, angry tears collecting like dew drops in your eyes. You curse to the ceiling, squaring your shoulders for a battle you’ve started, hot wax ready to go when the front door jiggles.

"I'm home." Monotone, flat-- done for the day, as Kento often was. Unbeknownst to him, the horrors were yet to continue. He blinked, unseeing as he shucked off his shoes, his glasses, his work jack--

Kento froze, his gaze fixed on you. The barest widening of his eyes; the slightest flare of his nostrils. He drank you in; legs spread, sweating, one fuzzy labia and one bare.

He cleared his throat, and began, mild and flat, "Goodness me. It must be my lucky day."

“A lucky day for you, is turning out to be miserable for me,” you whine, grabby fingers reaching for him over the cusp of the sofa. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“You saved some for me. I’m pleased.”

As he strolls into your view, he meets your glare, soaking in the flush of your cheeks, the slight twitch of your legs to hide yourself.

Kento knelt before you. He assessed the damage, and noted that you'd (bravely or foolishly) plastered both of your labia with hot wax. Now, in the wake of your hellish first tug of the wax, you were forced to confront the reality of a second.

Kento sighed, barely a huff of air through his nose. He rolled up his sleeves, to your frantic head shakes, and his slow head nods. His voice rumbled through you.

"I hate to berate you at a time like this--"

"--but you're going to anyway--"

"-- but this was…avoidable."

You scoffed. His impassiveness was a thin veneer. You squealed, trying to clamp your legs shut as he batted your thighs aside, effortlessly settling himself between them, and anchoring your labia with one hand, while grabbing the edge of the wax with the other.

"You should know," Kento lied, a glimmer in his eyes, "that I take no pleasure from this."

With critical accuracy, Kento ripped.

You shrieked, soul shaking, windows rattling with the threat the shatter. Distantly, you think of every wax appointment you’ve rescheduled, taking for granted the quick efficiency of your waxer, convinced you could actually do this on your own.

By the time the ringing in your ears subsides, you pick up the subtle ruffling of pressed fabric. Flickering teary eyes over to your husband, you resist the urge to reach over and smack.

He’s laughing, muffled in deep rich puffs, his shoulders moving with barely contained glee. He holds up the evidence of your misery, a white strip with barely any peach fuzz collected with thick wax.

“Stop laughing,” you hiss, swinging a weak arm in his direction.

Kento dodged you the first time, then let you land the second smack, as penance for his sins. Still, the mirth collected as tears in his eyes. He coughed, wiped his lash line, and looked at you with adoration.

"I love you," he rumbled, trying not to laugh, "but you're an idiot. And I have a serious question for you."

"What?" You asked him, wary and panting.

"Do you want me to wax your ass, or…?"

Smack.

[octoberautumnbox]

Love in the Night Train

IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Categories/warnings: fluff, mentions of blood, unedited as all hell

a/n: happy yuri day!! :DDDD

~~~

You stir awake gracelessly; your eyes open to an innocent white ceiling that should blind you but doesn’t. You scarcely feel your body, let alone are able to move it beyond flimsy twitches in your fingers and toes. Your neck is sore in all the appropriate spots, as if moving your head too far in one direction will snap it right off. On top of everything, a weight on your chest hinders your ability to breathe in. No way you’re dead at least, but as the memories start coming back, you begin to gather that you may as well be. 

Your back stings and prickles with every move you make, and it doesn’t take two guesses why. You’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, but that doesn’t mean you’re necessarily in a bind; you suppose that at this point you’ve gotten used to getting used to it. Instead of attending to everything you can as quick as possible, calm yourself back down, remind yourself that danger is far away from here, and that taking things slow sometimes is not a sin. 

The weight shifts from your chest and off to the side, giving you a slight reprieve from the pressure. It hits the mattress with a thud and a slight bounce, but ultimately you know everything is alright. Take in the air a bit more this time, and try to move again.

“Ugh, morning. You awake yet?” Yuri clears the messy hair away from her face and rubs her eyes. She sighs from the bottom of her lungs, making sure to get everything from last night out of her system. 

“Barely. I can’t fucking move, babe,” you reply with as much of a chuckle as you can manage, though it isn’t much. She giggles back and places her head on your chest again, this time in a more favorable spot. “You first?” you ask carefully, trying not to rush.

“Mmm, sure. Are you okay though?” She breathes in time with you, all the while tracing little circles on your chest. “I think you’re worse off than I am.”

The moment you try to reach for the salonpas, the stinging pain roars all over your back again. It sends you barreling back onto the mattress, but the split second is enough for Yuri to make out the damage. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” she pleads, “never mind. You first.”

Her movements are clunky and careless, dead giveaway to sore pairs of arms and legs. Despite this she soldiers on, and successfully reaches for the antiseptic on her side's end table. She prods at you gently to flip over, and it reveals two things: a back that looks like you kept a raccoon in your knapsack, and bedsheets right under where you were lying, formerly plain white.

She assesses the damage, and once the initial shock leaves her features it's replaced by guilt and what you could only call a mild horror. “It's that bad, huh?” you joke before planting your face onto the pillow.

“I'm sorry, babe, I got too caught up in it last night…” She spreads the antiseptic over her palm and counts, three, two, one, then the pain evolves from stinging to searing. You grimace into the pillow, sucking in what little air you could through your teeth, as Yuri mumbles tiny apologies while applying more of the medicine all over your back. 

“Okay, okay, done. I'm sorry,” she says with finality, and prods you to lie right side up again. You find on her lips a small pout, and it's the most adorable thing; you're reminded how lucky you are to land a girl that cares this much for you. 

“It's okay, as if I'd be mad about that,” and after sighing you finally make to get up. “Your turn.”

It's easier now, the pain once again evolving from searing to a polite coolness. The salonpas is miles closer within reach, and you tell Yuri, “Face down, love.”

She complies slowly, her joints and muscles still practically creaking with overuse. You peel a strip off the sheet and place it right where her shoulder meets her neck, then again for the other side. Pat them down to secure the adhesive, then move on to the next. 

Her lower back, under her shoulder blades, the backs of her thighs–each under her request based on where she aches most. As you place each strip, you rediscover every single mark you left on her, most notably the ones on her neck and chest, which are only starting to go from red to a deep purple. It brings back fond memories, and as you hover over the ones nearby, she smiles and runs her fingers over them too.

“Help me hide these?”

“I think they suit you rather well,” you tease, and after another bout of shy giggles from her she lifts herself off the bed slowly. She clambers to a sitting position in front of you and nearly crashes into your embrace, and the sensation brings you both to reminisce about last night: you kiss the same spots where her little circular bruises sit, and she runs her fingers over each tiny scratch mark she left on your back. Her eyes wander over her handiwork, a tiny sense of pride rising from her chest, when she finds one particularly nasty ring of sore red skin on your neck. 

“That one… looks bad,” she says, “I should maybe do something about that one.”  She clambers some more onto her feet and scurries off to the bathroom before coming back clutching the med kit. “Hold still,” she commands, and she pulls out a dropper of antiseptic for what you can only surmise is a bite mark, and for how Yuri even more carefully brings the spout near your neck, you gather it looks much worse than it feels. 

“I'm okay, babe, I'm–” before an inferno of stinging pain spreads outward from the spot the medicine dropped. Bolts of lightning travel all along your nerves, and it takes nearly a minute before it calms down like the rest of your wounds. Groans escape you the entire time, and Yuri's concern doesn't fade one bit. 

“Are you okay?” she asks, hopeful that she's doing more good to make up for the apparent harm. She dabs a square piece of gauze onto one of the deeper marks her teeth left and, once she's sure it's dry, covers everything with a fresh square to stick in place. She masterfully applies each strip of tape, securing it with just the right amount, before she's finally satisfied with her treatment. “All better, Oppa?”

“Yes, thank you, Yuri. How come I didn't notice that one?” A wave of relief washes over her, then moves on to you–her feeling better about things is highly contagious. 

Both of your attentions now land on the ruined bedsheet, and you start to notice the sheer amount of tiny bits of red scattered on your side. Yuri shoots you a look: “Help me change this?” and of course you oblige, partly because you feel guilty for having so much blood, but mostly because she's the kind of girl that puts magic into the mundane, as if she's the one that makes life worth living. 

You less-than-gracefully heave yourself off the bed before pulling away the covers themselves. A quick trip to the closet and Yuri hands you two corners of a fresh new fitted sheet, this time with a more joyful beige color and a fluffier texture like wool. You pull the garters over the soft edges of her mattress, and once all the pillows and covers are thrown back in place, you crash back onto the bed with her, sighing with exertion for the unbelievably menial task. 

“So,” you finally inquire after minutes of plain nothingness in her presence, “breakfast?”

“I don't wanna cook,” she whines, and yanks a pillow over her face. It's strange how cute she can be even without trying, more so when she does, and it's been lost to you a long time ago how to tell the difference. Wrap an arm around her waist, bring her close, find the warmth again that is Jo Yuri: stable yet novel and wild yet predictable. 

“Me neither. Let's just get delivery.”

“What do we order?”

“What do you want?”

She stares into your eyes, confessing a million things with each passing moment: I love you, I don't want to get up, stay with me forever, I want to eat in bed, I'm not that hungry, my back hurts, you're my everything. Her chest rises and falls as she breathes, her pupils running over each of your features like memorizing every single thing about you. 

She places a hand on your cheek, making sure you're real. The aches in her body are more proof than any pinch will ever be that she's awake, but that doesn't mean she's not in a dream. Yuri asks, “What are you thinking of?” in the quietest voice you've ever heard her make, and it melts the ice in your heart that you didn't even know was there. 

“You. Always you.”

~~~

[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!

[lunar-wandering]

sugar starved

it's doneeeee like i said this is just 8k of me being absolutely nuts. dont expect plot here.

TWs: uh, biting, blood drinking (don't worry about it), kissing... (i think that's it??)

Word Count: 8.4k

Read on Ao3

“Shit!”

Well, that couldn’t be a good sign.

Wukong slammed another hypnotized demon’s head into the ground, knocking them unconscious, whirling around and kicking another demon in the gut as he directed half of his attention towards the pained swear that had come from behind him. A short distance away, MK and Mei were blocking any enemies from reaching Macaque, who had fallen down onto one knee, clutching his leg.

Even from this distance, Wukong could see the smattering of blood on the pavement.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance, then ripped a handful of fur from his arm, blowing on it to summon some clones, mentally directing them in various directions to even out the fight. One specifically went and scooped Macaque out of the way of an axe wielding demon that had slipped past MK and Mei’s defense line, quickly carrying the other monkey to a nearby rooftop.

Wukong could feel the phantom sensation of Macaque smacking the clone’s back with his hand, as well as the faint whispers of complaints in his ear. He payed them no mind, jumping up to knee someone in the face, quickly bringing up his other leg in a follow up swing to shove them into another demon, sending them both into a wall hard enough to make it break. He spared a glance towards the rooftop for a moment, checking to make sure his clone was standing guard, before shooting his hand up to grab a wrist just before the fist attached to it could make contact with the side of his face. Wukong tightened his grip, twisted to the side, planted his foot, and flung them into the pavement with just barely non-lethal force.

He winced a bit as he heard a few bones crack.

…Maybe he should tone it down a little. Most of these demons weren’t doing this of their own free will after all.

Almost as though just thinking that had willed it, the buzzing sensation that Wukong had been pushing to the back of his mind suddenly came to an end. Wukong glanced up to see that MK had tackled some dressed up demon to the ground, and that Mei was currently stamping on some sort of- walkie talkie?

The demons that had been slowly approaching him crumbled to the ground. A few of them made noises of pain. Wukong almost wanted to do something similar. Despite having not actually been under the influence of whatever had been affecting the others, now that the buzzing was gone, he was suddenly being made aware of a killer headache. Headaches weren’t that out of the ordinary for him, but with the way this one felt, it was likely going to become a migraine sooner or later, and disrupt his well fought for peace.

Speaking of things that frequently disrupt his peace…

Wukong glanced back up towards the rooftop where his clone was waiting for him. He raised an eyebrow, and his clone responded by giving a gesture which clearly implied that he should ‘get up here, now.’

Wukong let out a sigh.

And then he jumped up, grabbing onto a signpost with his hand, swinging around it and using the momentum to fling himself up onto the rooftop. He dispelled his clone as he landed, dusting off his hands.

“So!” He said, “What’s the damage?”

“Fuck you.”

“Ooh, that’s not good.” Wukong crouched down beside where Macaque was partially curled up, the other glaring up at him. “Normally your insults are a lot more dignified than that.”

“Again, fuck you.” There was less heat behind it this time, shockingly. Wukong’s ear twitched as he assessed the way Macaque was clutching at his leg, before moving to grab his hands. Macaque’s tail puffed up in agitation. “Don’t touch me!”

“Hey, I can’t help you out if you won’t let me look!” Wukong grabbed hold of Macaque’s hands, overpowering him and finally getting a clear look at the injury. He hissed with sympathy. “Ah, that does look bad.”

Three long gashes ran down Macaque’s leg, from his knee to just above his ankle. His pant leg was practically shredded. Wukong didn’t think any level of thread and needle could fix the fabric… well, Macaque probably had plenty of extras anyways, hopefully.

The blood was dripping onto the roof underneath him and, well, Wukong didn’t really notice before but… man did it smell sweet.

Macaque’s magic always tended to lean on the sugary side- or, well, ‘lean’ was too small a word. Macaque’s magic was majorly sweet. It kinda smelled a bit like sugar cookies- if they were comprised of 90% sugar. It was the sweetest thing Wukong had ever tasted if he was being honest, immortal peaches being a close second.

…Not that he had had a taste of either in recent years. Macaque magic, specifically, well, Wukong hadn’t gotten a taste of his magic since- well. Before.

Macaque’s body runs on magic now, of course. His blood practically was magic.

Fuck, it smells really good.

Wukong was getting way too distracted by it.

“You got first aid stuff on ya?” He asked. He didn’t carry any on himself and, well, using his hair as a substitute for it never really turned out well. (Wukong didn’t even want to think about the number of infected wounds he’d accidentally given to himself over the years. No, those were incidents he’d prefer remain as distant memories). He really should figure out a way to store some first aid on himself- wait. He could shrink things, why had he never thought to- shit, he was getting distracted again.

Macaque didn’t give him a verbal response, instead rolling his eyes, a shadow pooling beside Wukong. Hesitatingly, (he wouldn’t doubt that Macaque would choose to play a prank even when injured), Wukong dipped his tail into the shadow, gripping onto a handle, pulling out a first aid kit. Setting it down, he clicked it open, looking over what he had. Unsurprisingly, it was pretty well stocked. Wukong had to wonder where Macaque had even gotten some of this stuff, he doubted the other had bought it.

Well, first things first was cleaning the wound.

Wukong brushed the shredded remains of Macaque’s pant leg out of the way, gripping Macaque’s ankle and pulling his leg towards him, ignoring Macaque’s hiss of pain as he started cleaning the cuts. They didn’t look too deep, Wukong would admit he’d been the slightest bit worried because of how Macaque was acting, but, then again, the shadow monkey always did have a shit pain tolerance. Wukong leaned down a little closer, eyes flickering gold to make sure he wasn’t missing anything-

Oh, the sweet scent of Macaque’s magic was so much stronger this close. He- he really craved- he wanted-

Mind completely lost, Wukong licked a line of blood off of Macaque’s leg, and then froze. Macaque, who had let out an outright squeak at the sensation, froze as well as the two of them suddenly locked eyes.

“Oh, ew!” They both jumped as MK’s voice interrupted their… moment, turning to see both him and Mei only just barely over the edge of the rooftop. “Did not want to see that! If you kids are going to do weird shit, do it behind closed doors, please!”

“I’m centuries older than you!” Wukong replied, instinctively, before the rest of MK’s sentence, along with the entirety of what just happened finally hit him, and he recoiled, letting go of Macaque’s leg and backing away, face igniting with gold. “And- and we weren’t doing anything weird!”

“Uh-huh, sure.” MK sounded entirely unconvinced, and beside him, Mei put her hands on her hips in an equally as doubtful pose. “Nothing happened, and Macaque definitely doesn’t look like he’s about to pass out.”

There was a small thump from beside him, and Wukong turned to find that Macaque had, in fact, passed out. Perfectly on queue too. Dramatic as always. MK let out a curse.

“Oh, shit, I was joking, I didn’t think he actually would-” Both him and Mei quickly ran forwards, restarting what Wukong had gotten distracted from. Mei started re-cleaning Macaque’s leg, while MK quickly checked Macaque’s head for any possible injuries. “Do you think it’s from blood loss or, uh-”

“Eh, hard to tell.” Wukong knelt down beside Macaque again, gently flicking the other’s cheek. He felt a steady returning echo of magic, so, “His magic seems to be stable. He was probably just overwhelmed, or something. …Can’t imagine why.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely no reason behind it at all.” Mei said, reaching around Wukong to grab the bandages out of the first aid kit, tightly wrapping them around Macaque’s leg. Wukong avoided eye contact with both her and MK. The sweet scent was still lingering in both his nose and mouth- he subconsciously licked his lip. Suddenly, he felt a prickle indicating eyes were on him, and he looked up to find that MK was staring at him with something like concerned wariness.

“…Monkey King.” MK started, slowly, “I know you and Macaque are… complicated, but you’re not planning on… eating him, right? Cause you uh, you can’t do that.”

“Ea- I’m not going to eat him.” Wukong said, offended, “I don’t- I’ve never- where are you getting that idea from?”

“I don’t know, Mr. King.” Mei finished up bandaging Macaque’s leg, pulling a sticker out of her pocket and placing it on top of her work- for some reason. “You’ve been staring at him kinda hungrily.”

“…I don’t think that’s a way you can stare at someone.” Wukong rubbed the back of his neck, “Besides, even if I did like, do the whole, ‘eating people’ thing- which I don’t. I certainly wouldn’t eat him, he’d probably taste gross.”

Well. He’d probably taste really sweet actually. He found his eyes drifting down to where Macaque’s neck would be visible, if it weren’t for the other’s scarf. Now that the injury was bandaged, the scent wasn’t as strong anymore- but it was still there…

“You certainly didn’t seem to think he was gross when you were licking Macaque’s leg.” Mei said, snapping Wukong out of his staring and making his face burn.

“That was- I was just- um. My saliva helps things heal faster?”

“Y’know, I’d almost believe that if you hadn’t said it like that.” MK said, digging around in his pocket, before seemingly finding what he was looking for. “Open your mouth.”

“Wha-” Wukong was cut off as, faster than he could blink, MK unwrapped a lollipop and shoved it into Wukong’s mouth. “Hey-”

“Lick something that’s supposed to be licked.” MK said, standing up, summoning the staff into his hand and walking towards the edge of the roof, Mei silently following after him. “Me and Mei have a dance party to get to- if I don’t hear from Macaque by midnight, I will be accusing you of cooking him!”

Wukong’s offended cry that, again, he did not eat people, fell on seemingly deaf ears as both MK and Mei jumped down from the roof’s edge, vanishing, leaving Wukong crouching on the rooftop beside a still unconscious Macaque.

After a few minutes, he sighed, using his tongue to turn the lollipop over in his mouth.

It was peach flavoured.

…It still wasn’t as sweet as-

Wukong shook that thought out of his head- oh, huh. Somehow, in between earlier and now, his headache had vanished. That was… weird. He’d been sure it was going to become a migraine. Maybe the distraction was all he’d needed? …Whatever. He didn’t have the time to focus on that.

He glanced down at Macaque, and sighed, before placing his hands underneath him and lifting him up as gently as he could. As much as some mean-spirited part of him might wish to do so, he couldn’t just leave the other on top of a random rooftop. The least he could do was get Macaque back to his dojo- or, well their dojo, at the current moment. Flower Fruit Mountain was still unsuitable for living in, at the current moment. Reforming his past house required a lot of magic and focus, and, well, Wukong may or may not be lacking in one of those departments, so it was taking quite a while.

Not to mention he’d had a late start on it. …A month’s long late start to it. Procrastination could be such a bitch sometimes.

So, he’d been staying at Macaque’s dojo for the time being. (MK had offered his apartment, and Sandy had offered his boat, but… Macaque’s dojo was the only other building around with a built in pocket space that could fit all of Wukong’s stuff. Or, well, what remained of it. Wukong didn’t really want to think about all that had gotten destroyed during the fight against Azure, he’d salvaged what he could, and that was that. He definitely didn’t still think of the items that were either destroyed or missing).

Or, well, he was kind of staying there. Sure, his stuff was stored there, and he’d spent like, maybe one or two nights guarding said stuff, but he had yet to actually, like, sleep there. After he was certain Macaque wasn’t going to go through his stuff, he’d been spending most of his time either hanging out with the kid and the others at the Noodle Shop, or finding a random tree to rest in.

Which was why he paused when, upon kicking down random doors, he paused upon the discovery that, at some point, Macaque had seemingly prepared a room for him.

Or, well, it wasn’t really a new discovery. Wukong had heard him mumbling about how he’d “gone through the effort of putting a room together for nothing”, but he had assumed the other had just been joking- poking fun over how Wukong currently preferred a tree branch over an actual bed. Apparently, this was not the case.

Wukong took a quick glance down the hallway. There were still multiple doors to try if he wanted to find Macaque’s actual room, but, well, there was a bed right here, so.

He quickly stepped in and dropped the other unceremoniously onto the bed- and then winced as the other let out a slightly pained whimper in his sleep. Ah. Right. Injured leg. You’re meant to be careful with injured people.

…Sue him. It’s been centuries since he’d last had to deal with caring for an injured person that wasn’t himself, he was out of practice.

Slightly more gently, Wukong rearranged Macaque so that he wasn’t in a position that would aggravate the cuts on his leg. And then he… stared. Silently. Macaque was still asleep- which would’ve been concerning, Wukong was fairly sure if someone passes out, they’re not meant to stay unconscious for this long unless there’s a serious medical reason, but, well. That buzzing had been hard on Wukong’s ears, he could only imagine what it’d been like for Macaque. Maybe he just needed the rest?

The last bit of lollipop dissolved on his tongue, and Wukong took the remaining stick out of his mouth and tossed it into the trash as he contemplated. Was there anything else here he needed to-

Oh! Water! Water would probably be good- everyone likes a good glass of water when they wake up, yep. Wukong turned around, new mission in mind, heading towards Macaque’s kitchen. Man, now that there was nothing sweet in his mouth, he was craving sugar again- but he already knew that Macaque didn’t keep any treats in there. He’d tried to raid the kitchen on his first night staying here, out of spite, only to find it horrifically empty. Pigsy would’ve thrown a fit if he’d known. Actually, now that he was thinking about it, maybe he should tell the pig demon about that, the idea of what Macaque’s expression would be when confronted with a pissed-off Pigsy was endlessly entertaining.

…That might come back to bite him though. It was well known at this point that the Monkey King didn’t have the best eating habits either. Maybe he should save that idea for a time when he can easily get away…

Oh. He’d overfilled the cup.

Wukong quickly turned off the tap, setting the cup down on the counter as he shook water droplets off of his hand. Jeez, he seriously was having a hard time keeping himself in the moment today. More so than usual.

He poured the slightest bit of water out of the cup and down the drain, so that it wouldn’t easily spill, before heading back to the room and- there was no bedside table in here. How hadn’t he noticed that?

He couldn’t just leave the cup on the floor, it’d likely just end up spilled that way… wait-

Wukong ripped a piece of hair off his tail, snapping his fingers to turn it into a bedside table. There, problem solved. He set the cup down with a firm clink, scanned the room, and it’s occupant, one last time, before turning and leaving.

He could really use something sweet right now.

~

At exactly 11pm at night, Wukong’s phone went off with a message from the group chat that MK had partially forced him into. Nibbling on his ninth cookie of the night, Wukong swiped his phone open.

MK: are we all still up for game night tmrw?

A few affirmative messages flew by, Wukong simply sending a thumbs up emoji into the mix. A few seconds later, Macaque sent a thumbs down.

Mei: good 2 see that our resident phantom of the opera is still alive

Wukong snorted as he watched Macaque react to that message with a middle finger emoji- only to edit it into an angry face emoji immediately after out of fear of Pigsy’s wrath. At the very least this meant that MK wouldn’t be pestering him about Macaque’s whereabouts in an hour. Wukong had not been looking forward to that possible conversation. He set his phone down on the table even as messages continued to flow across the screen.

“Y’know.” He said, “You can’t keep avoiding game night forever.”

There was a crash, and a split second later, a shadow portal opened in the doorway, Macaque stepping out of it, looking some combination of pissed off and frazzled.

“What are you doing in my kitche- what the fuck?!” Macaque cut himself off as he fully registered the scene in front of him. “Wukong. What is this-”

“Uh, I’m in your kitchen cause I’m staying here, remember?” Not really, again, Wukong had barely spent much time here at all other than those two nights guarding his stuff. “And this is all uh, a late night snack. You know you’ve got no food in here? Do you even eat?”

“…I just portal it in here when I’m hungry.” Macaque mumbled, the cleared his throat. “This. Is not a midnight snack- this is- did you even pay for half of this stuff?”

“Yes I did, in fact, pay for it, so if you want some you’re gonna have to pay me back for it.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how much this cost you- nevermind. I’m rephrasing my question. Why do you have what’s practically a sweets banquet set up in my kitchen?” Macaque asked, “You’ve got like, three cakes here-”

“I was craving sugar.” Wukong shrugged, picking up another cookie, avoiding eye contact as he shoved it into his mouth. Although… Macaque had a point. Wukong had returned with the results of his sweets haul over two hours ago, and he’d barely made a dent in it since then. But, well, he wasn’t lying. He was craving sugar.

…Still is. Not a single one of these treats seemed to be able to get rid of his want for-

Macaque reached over Wukong’s shoulder to grab a cookie from the package sitting in front of the Monkey King, and Wukong nearly choked as he was suddenly hit with the sweet scent of the other’s magic yet again.

Yeah. Okay then. Nothing else really could ever truly compare. The cookie still in his mouth suddenly tasted practically flavourless in comparison.

He still shoved another one into his mouth anyways, if only to get the thoughts of biting Macaque’s arm out of his mind.

“I’m not paying you back for this by the way.” Macaque said, taking a small mouselike bite out of his cookie, as though testing if it was actually good, before taking a slightly larger bite. “…Albeit, I guess I could like, take these as rent? Since you’re storing all your shit here.”

“I won’t throw you through a wall for taking my cookie on one condition.”

“…Which is?”

“Join us for game night.”

“I’d rather get thrown through the wall.”

“Alright.”

“Wait- wait!” Macaque’s voice pitched up with slight fear as Wukong stood up and grabbed hold of his arm. Wukong paused and waited, but didn’t let go. Macaque stared at him, as though analyzing whether or not he was actually serious.

He was. Injury or not, a little throw through a wall wouldn’t hurt him that much. And would also let Wukong take out a little bit of frustrated energy- that headache that had gone away earlier was slowly starting to make it’s way back.

After a few seconds of nothing but silent staring, Wukong raised an eyebrow, tightening his grip ever so slightly.

“Shit- fine!” Macaque hissed, tugging at his arm, trying to free it. “I’ll go to game night! Now let go of me!”

“That’s more like it.” Wukong obediently let go of Macaque’s arm, turning and sitting back down, scooping his phone off the table.

MonkeyKing: convinced mac to come to game night

MK: HOW?!

MK: actually based on what happend earlier. i dont wanna know

“…Are you going to be sitting out here all night?” Macaque asked, bringing Wukong back to where he currently was before he could type out a frantic message about how nothing had happened earlier. Macaque was leaning against the back of Wukong’s chair, though, he was seemingly more focused on the second cookie he’d snatched than the phone, which Wukong quickly turned off before Macaque could see the messages- purposefully or accidentally. Briefly, he glanced down at the bandages wrapped around Macaque’s leg- there was no sign of bleed through, which was good, but-

“Do you have to stand so close?” The proximity was making the sugar cravings so much worse, and with the treats in front of him no longer working as a substitute…

Wukong forced his gaze away from where it had strayed to Macaque’s scarf, or, well, his neck. He seriously didn’t need a repeat of whatever had come over him before.

“Why?” Macaque did the opposite of what Wukong wanted him to do, leaning closer, “Does it bother you?”

“Psh, no.” Wukong reached up to shove Macaque away, touching nothing but thin air as Macaque side-stepped out of reach with a smirk- which was soon replaced by- a yawn? Wukong stared at him incredulously. “There’s no way you’re still tired. You just spent the past like, 6 hours unconscious.”

“I could probably go for another 32.”

“…Minutes?”

“Hours.”

“Sounds festive.”

“Glad to know you find the idea of me falling into a coma fun.”

“Look, if you’re that tired, just go back to bed.” Wukong rolled his eyes, “I’m not gonna like, start watching a movie on full blast or anything.”

“You will likely make a mess of my kitchen though.” Macaque said, “I mean, you practically already have. Are you at least going to bring some of this stuff to the game night- I don’t think either of us could finish even half of this on our own.”

That… was an excellent idea actually.

“It was always the intent for most of it to be for game night.” Wukong lied, “I’m done here now anyways- the kid just wanted me to make sure you didn’t like, bleed out or something.”

He grabbed a new package of cookies, shoving them into the folds of his clothes as he stood up, brushing past Macaque on the way to the door. Wukong paused with one foot out of the dojo.

“I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon to help carry everything over to the Noodle Shop.” He said, “You better be ready by then, or I will be dragging you out of bed. Forcibly.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.” Macaque huffed, waving him off, “Have fun getting backpain in your random tree branch.”

Wukong already dealt with backpain, a few weeks of nights spent sleeping on a tree branch weren’t going to help or hurt him more. But, well, that wasn’t important.

He slammed the door of the dojo closed behind himself, and summoned his cloud to go hang out on the roof of MK’s apartment until tomorrow.

~

“Uno!”

“Go fish.”

“I think I’m gonna fold.”

“Does anyone have an eight?”

“Pick up two.”

“Wait, what are we playing?” Wukong asked, suddenly very aware of the lack of cards in his hands. At his question, Mei let out a snort, and the others set their handfuls of various cards down on the table.

“We’re playing Never Have I Ever.” MK patted Wukong on the back comfortingly, “You started spacing out twenty minutes ago- Red Son thought it’d be funny to see how long it’d take you to notice we’d started spouting random game instructions.”

“Noodle Boy, you cannot just oust me like that-”

“No wonder it’s taking you so long to remake Flower Fruit Mountain.” Macaque interrupted as he set down his own hand- two queens and two plus four Uno cards. “If you can barely focus enough on a kids game, then it’s a miracle you can get any complex magic spell done at all.”

“Hey- I’m not normally this bad.” Wukong said, rubbing gently at his forehead. “…I just have a little headache, that’s all.”

“I’ve got an aspirin if you need one.” Mei popped a pill out of a package and held it out. Wukong stared at it a little hesitantly for a few seconds- mortal medicine had a fairly low chance of helping him out nowadays. But, well, low chance was still better than no chance… Wukong took the pill and swallowed it dry, ignoring how some of the others winced at that action. It probably wouldn’t help him much in the long run, but, well, he could pretend it did for their sakes.

“Now that Monkey King is back in the land of the living-” MK said, pouring a refill of juice into everyone’s cups, “I can say this; Never Have I Ever licked someone’s leg-”

“Oh, you’re still on that?” Wukong would’ve rathered they’d left that whole thing behind. He grabbed his cup-

And proceeded to almost spill it when Macaque violently slammed his hands down on the table.

“Wait.” He hissed, eyes flickering from MK to Wukong and back again. “That was real? That actually happened?! I thought I hallucinated it-”

“It was, unfortunately, real.” MK said with a solemn tone that did not at all fit the topic they were talking about. Quietly, Red Son asked Mei what was going on, and Mei leaned over to whisper about what had happened yesterday into his ear. Wukong could only thank whoever in Heaven that may or may not be listening in that Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy were busy getting pizza from the store, and were thus not being brought in on this whole little fiasco.

“Whatever- it, it was nothing, okay?” Wukong downed his juice in one go, grabbing the bottle with his tail to pour more into his now empty cup. “Let’s just move on- Never Have I Ever… uh-”

He paused for a moment, trying to think of something that he hadn’t done. As someone who had lived for over a millenia, well…

“…Maybe this wasn’t the best choice of game to play with a bunch of immortals.” Red Son said-

“No, no, I- actually no, yeah, I’ve got nothing.” Wukong had been going to say he’d never eaten people- considering MK had seemed to decide they were bringing up yesterday’s events, but, well. He was pretty sure Red Son’s family had had a little… phase, and he wasn’t entirely sure if Mei and MK knew, and, well, a party game was arguably the worst way to find out about things like that, in Wukong’s opinion.

…Or maybe they wouldn’t care, who knows, MK and Mei were weird like that. He’s pretty sure he heard the kid specifically chanting something along the lines of “Be Gay, Do Crimes” the other day, or something like that. Was cannibalism included in that? Wukong has no idea, and he certainly is not going to be the one to ask.

He was spared from further thinking about it as the Noodle Shop’s door chimed- Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy finally returning, Sandy carrying pizza boxes in his hands.

(Wukong had brought over some of the junk food he’d impulse bought the previous night. Macaque had complained about how he was still leaving so much of it in his kitchen, but, well, Wukong kinda wanted a stockpile of it. Just in case. Either way, it didn’t really matter, quite a lot of what he had brought over would probably be coming back to the Dojo with them anyways, considering Pigsy had nearly passed out over the idea of only having sweets for super. He’d insisted they at least get something more dinner-like, even if it was takeout from another place. MK had demanded pizza faster than anyone else could think).

“Scoot over, monkey.” Pigsy said, pulling a chair over to the table, making Wukong have to move over-

Closer to Macaque.

Shit.

Wukong took a chocolate bar he’d hidden in his shirt pocket earlier (it was his favourite brand, he only had one left and he wasn’t risking any of the others taking it), and took a bite out of it, forcing his eyes to remain on the table and not stray over to the monkey demon sitting beside him. There was no sweet scent surrounding the other anymore- thank heaven, but just the memory alone was messing with him. The urge to just bite the other was all too strong.

“Right!!” Mei clapped her hands together, drawing Wukong’s attention back to the group. “Now that we’re all here, lets get the real games going. Up first, I think we should play Werewolf-”

~

“Night one. Night. One. All of you- voted for me first thing.” Macaque hissed as Wukong slammed the door of the dojo closed behind them. “I hadn’t even done anything yet! There wasn’t even a discussion- just immediate voting!”

“Macaque, that was hours ago, why are you still complai-”

“Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that you were the one who voted for me first, Wukong!” Macaque poked Wukong in the chest as emphasis- “You clearly set that whole thing up on purpose- hey!”

Wukong grabbed hold of Macaque’s wrist, pushing him backwards as the Monkey King stepped forwards, pinning Macaque up against the wall.

“Enough.” Wukong hissed, and then paused, taking in the look on Macaque’s face, the way shadows were slowly darkening against the wall, as though ready to portal the other away. After a second, he relaxed his grip on Macaque’s wrist a little, using his free hand to gently run a thumb over Macaque’s cheek. “You’ve been complaining for hours. It’s making my headache worse, so- it’s high time you shut up a little.”

When the shadows faded to their usual colour, and Macaque didn’t voice any form of protest, Wukong leaned in.

…This wasn’t the first time they had kissed. Far from it.

A few days after the fight against Azure, Macaque had shown up in the remains of Flower Fruit Mountain. The resulting fist fight had ended with Macaque pinned to the ground, panting, and smirking, before he’d grabbed the front of Wukong’s clothes and pulled himself up to place a kiss on Wukong’s cheek.

Wukong had grabbed him before he could fade into the shadows and pressed their lips together with a surprising gentleness for someone who hadn’t kissed another for over two hundred years.

They hadn’t really… stopped since then. Neither of them ever really planned to initiate it, it just seemed to happen- suddenly gently or passionately kissing each other.

This kiss… was neither of those things.

It was desperate, and needy, and Wukong’s fangs nipped Macaque’s lip hard enough to draw blood and make him gasp. Wukong pulled back at the sound of it, before zeroing in on the blood. He ran his thumb over Macaque’s lip, smearing the blood, then brought his thumb to his mouth and licked it.

“…Sweet.” He said, ignoring the way Macaque’s eyes narrowed at him as he leaned back in for a better taste. Macaque made a choked sort of noise as Wukong licked his lip mid-kiss. Wukong slowly let go of Macaque’s wrist in order to cup the other’s face with both hands, pulling him slightly away from the wall and impossibly closer to him, nipping at Macaque’s lip again to draw more blood forth.

“Ow!” Macaque pushed Wukong back- Wukong forcing himself to comply and move away as Macaque shook his head, seemingly trying to snap himself out of the daze that had come over him. “Okay- wait- what’s with the biting?”

Wukong silently stared at the small trails of blood slowly dripping from Macaque’s bottom lip and down his chin.

“Wukong? Sun Wukong. Hey.” Macaque snapped his fingers in front of Wukong’s face. “I know you’re bad at it, but I’d like you to focus now-”

Wukong blinked, trying to think clearly over the delicious sweetness that was steadily fading from his tongue.

“Uh-” He hesitated, trying to make eye contact, and failing, eyes being drawn back to the quickly drying blood. How to- explain? His mind was buzzing over finally getting a small taste of what he’d been craving all day, and despite his headache having somehow vanished, it was nearly impossible to think. He wanted more, so much more. “…Sweet?”

“Not an answer.” Macaque said, wiping the dry blood off his chin, “If you want something sweet, have one of the hundreds of treats you’ve tossed into my kitchen- wait, does this has something to do with you licking my leg yesterday?”

Macaque’s face, which had already been tinged slightly purple from the kiss, flushed to a much deeper shade at the memory, and Wukong knew for a fact that, confronted with it now, his own face was probably burning with an equal amount of gold. He’d been kinda hoping that, despite MK bringing it up again for some reason, Macaque had forgotten that whole thing had even happened.

It seemed like his hopes had been in vain.

“Maybe.” He’d muttered it, but it might as well have been a yes with how Macaque’s face suddenly lit up with a smirk despite the blush still covering it- speaking of, said blush was quickly starting to show through the glamours on Macaque’s ears as well, the faint outlines of his extra ears lightly glowing.

“Ah-” There was a tone of realization in Macaque’s voice that Wukong decided right then and there that he didn’t really like- “It’s the magic that you want, isn’t it?”

Oh, Wukong suddenly regretted constantly begging Macaque for a taste of the other’s magic because it was “sweeter than peaches!” way back in the past. Macaque had been quite proud of it back then, seeming to view being ranked as above peaches as something special. Of course the bastard would put the pieces together so damn quick, even over a millenia later.

Wukong let out a defeated groan, taking another step back so that Macaque was no longer trapped against the wall. Macaque adjusted his clothes, blush and smirk still present on his face as he turned and started walking towards the main living area, Wukong slowly trailing along behind him with his arms crossed. Macaque’s tail was swishing back and forth with something that was definitely not agitation, and Wukong couldn’t help but feel that maybe Macaque was getting just a little bit too much enjoyment out of this realization.

Macaque hopped over the back of his couch to sit down on the cushions, and after a moment of hesitation, Wukong followed.

“…It’s not your magic specifically.” He said, grumpily, “It’s just… sugar? But, uh. Nothing else is, um.”

“Fulfilling the craving? Checks out.” Macaque nodded sagely, as though he expected this, and Wukong had to, for the second time in under 24 hours, fight the urge to pick him up and throw him. Macaque seemed to realize he was treading on thin ice, as he quickly broke eye contact. “I mean, it takes an ungodly amount of, well, anything to affect you, it only makes sense you’d need something super sweet as well.”

…Huh. He was right, that did make sense.

It also would maybe explain why the headaches went away after tasting some of Macaque’s insanely sweet magic blood too. It wasn’t some coincidence, it was just Wukong finally getting something akin to the right amount of sugar in himself. The sugar craving wasn’t just his sweet tooth, he actually needs a lot of sugar.

…Probably not a good thing he keeps going extended periods without eating anything, then. Of course, he could probably live without it, obviously, but, well. It felt awful to do so.

(He’d slept away fifty years once, and had felt genuinely and truly horrible once he had woken up. It’d taken three days of eating immortal peaches before he’d started to feel well enough to branch into eating and drinking anything else).

“Well, there’s no real reason to postpone it.” Macaque’s voice drew Wukong back to the present, and he did a double take in shock as he realized that, at some point while he’d been spacing out, Macaque had taken his scarf off. Wukong’s eyes immediately were drawn to Macaque’s collarbone. Macaque smirked at his reaction, and moved forwards, wrapping his scarf around the back of Wukong’s neck, and pulling the Monkey King closer to him, practically on top of him, in fact. Macaque tilted his head slightly to the side to give better access. “Go ahead.”

Wukong blinked for a second in shock, a golden flush on his face, before he smirked.

“Good boy.”

“Wha- no, we’re not doing th-ah!” Macaque cut himself off with a yelp, glamours falling down as Wukong gently sunk his teeth into his shoulder. Wukong let out a slightly muffled laugh at Macaque’s reaction, before biting slightly harder, blood pooling up as Macaque swore from the sting of it. One of Macaque’s hands gripped onto the back of Wukong’s clothes- his other hand gripping the back of Wukong’s head with enough strength to pull on his hair enough for it to slightly hurt, but Wukong didn’t care. He was finally getting the sweetness he’d been craving, and he wasn’t going to let anything distract him from that.

A minute passed, and Macaque slowly started relaxing from how he’d initially tensed, leaning back to be laying down, shivering and yelping whenever Wukong sunk his teeth in deeper again to draw up more magic blood. Wukong leaned closer in to him, letting their tails wrap together. Macaque didn’t even try to say anything of his usually sassy or dramatic nature, for once leaving them both in relatively peaceful near-silence.

The sweet flavour filling the Monkey King’s mouth tasted almost like bliss.

Slowly, Wukong pulled back a small bit. The craving had been satiated, fading to the back of his mind as he licked his lips, clarity starting to come back to him.

Macaque’s shoulder looked like a bloody mess.

He gave it a tiny, gentle lick, savouring the taste on his tongue for a few more seconds, before pulling back entirely.

“…I think we might’ve stained your couch.” Wukong said, wiping his mouth, though he was sure he’d only succeeded in smearing the purple blood across his face instead of successfully cleaning it. “And your shirt.”

Macaque didn’t answer, staring at the ceiling while panting, a dazed look in his eyes. Wukong slowly tilted his head in confusion, carefully shifting so that he was no longer on top of him.

“Macaque?” Wukong tried again, “C’mon, we should get you cleaned up. We can go to the Flower Fruit Mountain hot springs- I finished fixing them up a few days ago.”

“…Yeah. Right. Hot springs… sounds nice.” Macaque sounded breathless as he forced himself up and into a sitting position, swinging his legs over and making to stand up and take a step forwards.

He crumpled over, starting to collapse to the ground.

“Woah!” Wukong shot up and grabbed hold of him, Macaque gripping onto him for balance. Wukong was suddenly very aware of the way Macaque was starting to get a little wispy at the edges. “Fuck, did I take too much?”

“Maybe jus’ a bit…” Macaque’s words slurred a little as Wukong helped him sit back down onto the couch. “I’ll be fine, I just, need a sec…”

Wukong gently brushed Macaque’s hair out of his face, before gently tapping the other’s lips.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“…Mm.” Macaque made a sound of consent, so Wukong gently pressed their lips together, a golden glow enveloping the both of them as he closed his eyes and drew back on how they used to share magic.

(Passing it through a kiss was a lot easier than getting it from blood, but, well, Macaque’s magic was too closely tied to him now for him to do such a thing anymore.

…Plus you couldn’t really taste it this way).

When Wukong next opened his eyes, Macaque still looked a bit dazed, but he at least wasn’t wispy at the edges anymore. Pulling back, he held back as much of his strength as possible and lightly flicked Macaque directly in the middle of his forehead.

“Next time, tell me when I start taking too much.” Wukong said, ignoring Macaque’s pained grumbling. “Now, lets get you fixed up- you still okay with the hot springs?”

“I could use a bit of a soak- wait. How are we going to-” Macaque shrieked as a golden flash surrounded them, falling backwards onto the ground with a small sound of pain as they were suddenly teleported to Flower Fruit Mountain.

“Oops. Forgot to warn you.” He absolutely hadn’t- this was his way of paying Macaque back for not telling him important things like the fact that he was taking too much blood. Wait, speaking of blood- “Ah- I forgot the supplies- hold on for a second, alright? Don’t go, like, passing out on me again.”

“I’m not gonna pass out.” Macaque said, even as he put a hand to his head, trying to get the spinning from the sudden teleportation to stop. Wukong raised an eyebrow in doubt at him, but still proceeded to vanish in another flash of golden light, leaving Macaque on the ground staring at the starry sky.

His eyes were just starting to adjust to the natural darkness- when another bright flash of light made him hiss, covering his face.

“I’m back!” Wukong did a little pose as he announced his presence. Macaque just slowly sat up and stared at him with an incredibly unimpressed look. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Wukong coughed, setting the basket of items on the ground down beside the other. “So, um. I realized between there and here that uh- well, I was gonna bandage your shoulder, but, you’re not meant to get bandages wet, and we’re gonna go in the hot springs, so um-”

“Just put some spell on them to keep them dry or whatever.” Macaque rolled his eyes, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world, as he shrugged off his sleeve to give Wukong better access to his shoulder. Wukong knelt down beside him, bandages in his hands, and then hesitated.

“…Wukong-” Macaque started, and then sighed as Wukong leaned down and licked some more blood off of Macaque’s shoulder. “Seriously? I thought you were done with that.”

“I just wanted one more little taste.” Wukong pulled back, grabbing a small hand towel and dipping it into the hot spring, using it to gently wipe the rest of the blood away. The bite marks were already starting to heal, the skin already starting to scab over. Wukong wrapped some bandages on top of it anyways. There would probably be more steps he’d have to do for this if Macaque was human, but, well, he wasn’t, so this should suffice.

“Hurry it up, I wanna get in the water, it’s cold out here.” Macaque said, his tail swishing a little in agitation. Wukong huffed out a small laugh at his impatience, summoning a golden magic circle to his fingertips, which he then pressed against the bandages to imbue them with the spell. He repeated the process for the bandages on Macaque’s leg, and then turned away to put the bandage roll back in the basket he’d brought.

A splash had him turning around to find that where Macaque had been, there was now only his clothes on the ground, the other monkey demon having already made his way into the hot springs. He’d done that so fast, how-

“Ough, headrush…” One of Macaque’s hands shot out to grip a nearby rock, seemingly for support, while the other went up to his forehead, his ears flicking. He looked a little bit wispy again.

Oh. He must’ve used his magic to shadowshift out of his clothes and portal into the water. He knew full well he was low on magic power right now, why on Earth would he-

(It suddenly occurred to Wukong, that, y’know what, maybe putting someone who was recently experiencing something akin to blood loss into hot water was possibly… not a good decision).

“I can hear you thinking.” Macaque mumbled, shifting a little to glare at him. “Just hurry up and get in here.”

A few seconds later had Macaque loudly swearing as Wukong jumped into the hot spring, splashing the other with warm water.

“Seriously?!” Macaque spluttered, coughing as a bit of water made it’s way into his mouth. “Can’t you just enter the water like a normal perso-mM!”

Water splashed over the edge of the hot spring as Wukong cut him off by grabbing the sides of Macaque’s head, climbing onto the other’s lap in one swift motion and pressing their lips together. Macaque made a muffled noise of protest, before his eyes slowly slid closed, his hands finding their way to rest on Wukong’s shoulders as the Monkey King shared more of his endless magic with him. Wukong tilted his head, pulling back before pressing a kiss to the corner of Macaque’s mouth, then his cheek- and then his ear.

Macaque did a full body shiver as Wukong kept his lips pressed against one of the other’s glowing six ears. When Macaque didn’t have any further reaction, Wukong opened his mouth slightly, and softly bit down.

Unlike the previous bites, it wasn’t enough to draw up blood, but it was enough to make Macaque let out a quite frankly pitiful sounding noise, tail thrashing, causing more water to spill out onto the rocks. Wukong chuckled, the sensation of his breath against his ear making all of Macaque’s ears twitch. Wukong seemed to take that as a sign to purposefully blow a breath of air onto Macaque’s ear, making Macaque yelp and shove him back.

“Stop that! And, must- must you keep interrupting me mid-sentence?” He said, “Seriously, you’ve done it like three times.”

“But what if I like the sound you make when I catch you off guard, Sugarplum?” If Macaque hadn’t already been flushed to the tips of his ears, purple blush glowing brightly, Wukong dropping that nickname of all things would’ve been enough to make him blush violently.

“Wuko- …P-Peaches, you can’t just-”

“Can’t just what?” Wukong pressed their foreheads together, smirking as he stared directly into Macaque’s eyes. “C’mon, I’m on a bit of sugar high right now, you gotta let me have some fun- hey!”

Macaque roughly shoved Wukong back, making him slip and fall underwater for a few seconds. When he came back up, he made a frustrated noise as he tried to push his wet hair out of his face so he could see again.

“Did you have to do tha- woah!” Wukong stumbled backwards, his back hitting the side of the hot spring as his hands grabbed Macaque to stabilize him as the other suddenly surged forwards, wrapping his arms around Wukong’s neck as he kissed him. Wukong’s hands slipped down to Macaque’s hips, quickly adjusting their position into something more comfortable as Macaque tried to press himself as close to him as possible. After a few seconds, Wukong hummed, turning his head to the side to break the kiss. Macaque quickly moved to press his lips to Wukong’s neck instead. Wukong let out a breathy giggle- “Is this your idea of revenge?”

Macaque’s response was to wrap his tail around Wukong’s own under the water, kissing up the side of Wukong’s neck, to his cheek, and then back to his lips. Wukong let him, smirking into it-

And then he let go of Macaque’s hips, one of his hands going to rest in the middle of Macaque’s back, the other going to the back of the other’s head, as he shifted his weight and dipped him, Macaque letting out a muffled squeak against Wukong’s lips as he almost went under the water. Wukong pulled back a bit to stare down at Macaque’s shocked face, his black hair flowing in the water, the glow from his ears reflecting in the water in a way that was-

“Beautiful.”

“Oh shut up.” Macaque reached up and grabbed the sides of Wukong’s face, pulling him down to press their lips together again-

Wukong’s feet slipped on the underwater rocks, sending them both under the water. They both resurfaced a few seconds later, coughing on accidentally inhaled water.

“Right.” Wukong said, taking in a wheezing breath, “I think maybe- maybe that’s a sign we should cut it out for now, ha.”

Macaque didn’t verbally respond, instead just silently nodding, leaning against the side of the hot spring and staring up at the stars.

They were silent for a few minutes.

And then Wukong reached over the edge of the hot spring to rummage in the basket he had brought, and pulled out-

“How did you even fit that in there.” Macaque deadpanned, “What are you, some kind of Mary Poppins? There’s no way you fit that in that basket.”

“…Sounds like somebody doesn’t want cake.”

“Now hold on, I didn’t say that-”

[amuyyi]

How Sweet .

synopsis: you somehow find yourself in Vietnam with your best friend Hanni, and the heavy southeast asian heat leaves hanni to her own devices... trope: non-idol!hanni x non-idol!f!reader, best friends to lovers, summer vacation, high school seniors, fluff

wc: 3.9k

cw: none

a/n: hello hello! this is my first fanfic in a long long time, and ive never shared on tumblr before.. but i love hanni's fuckass bob ! please let me know what you guys think, im bit rusty in terms of writing ^^'

-------------------

“So… What do you think?”

You stare at your best friend, mouth agape in complete and utter shock as Hanni stood in front of you. With a sheepish expression on her face, your eyes glaze over the silver blades within Hanni’s left hand as she holds a long lock of her naturally jet black air within her right. As your eyes travel upwards, you’re met with a rather uneven, extremely choppy bob planted on the top of your friend’s head alongside some hastily cut bangs. You would’ve thought it was a poorly done wig if she wasn't already holding evidence of her own wrongdoing within her hands. There's an uncomfortable silence that passes between the two of you as you simply stare, your jaw practically threatening to fall off of the base of your skull as you could see the other girl’s eye twitching ever so slightly in response to your silence. 

“Can you please say something?! It's not that bad I swear!” The vietnamese girl whines out, spinning on her heel and making her way back towards the bathroom where she had initially emerged. With Hanni no longer in your line of sight, you snap out of your daze, shaking your head as your brows knit together in confusion, just now beginning to fully process what you had just seen. You practically fall out of your seat on the couch as you scramble to your feet, following after the other girl as you call out, “wait, wait, what?! When did you do that???”

Hanni had made plans for the summer to visit her family back in Vietnam, and had graciously extended an offer for you to join. Excited and albeit a bit nervous, you instantly agreed, having been meaning to make some fun summer plans between the two of you for a while now. Your best friend’s family was sweet, having met her grandmother alongside a few aunts, uncles, and multiple younger cousins who were all pleased to meet your acquaintance. 

Despite the lovely first day of introductions and adjusting to the horrible jet lag you two experienced once landing, you soon learned that summers in Vietnam were, for lack of a better word, brutal. For the entirety of Southeast Asia, the heat during these months were ruthless, practically leaving everyone in sight panting, sweating, and doing anything possible in order to relieve themselves from the scorching sun– and the humidity. Oh, the humidity. The air felt thick and heavy in a way you’ve never experienced before. It almost felt hard to breathe sometimes because everything around you just felt so… sticky. How did Vietnam manage to make even a supposed nice summer breeze feel hot? Hanni had conveniently managed to not mention the intensity of the weather at the time, and as a result, left you two practically melting into the couch, marinating within your own sweat as Hanni’s grandmother left the two of you home alone for the day.

You practically break down the door to the bathroom to find a distressed Hanni increasingly becoming more panicked the longer she looks at her reflection.  “My Ba used to always cut my hair like this whenever I visited over the summer, I thought it’d be easy to replicate!” Hanni exclaims, staring herself down within the mirror as she tries to assess the damage that has been done at every angle possible. Honestly, the whole situation was almost too good. Almost like a scene from a sitcom or something.

Fighting back a snort, you smirk teasingly, “has she always made it so uneven?” Your unsolicited comment left Hanni clicking her tongue in offense, raising her hand holding the scissors threatening to hit you before shifting her gaze back towards the mirror, letting out a distressed groan in defeat. “I don’t even know what came over me, y/n. I think this unbearable heat actually fried my brain,” she runs her free hand through her hair, some poorly cut strands falling out as she winces, “I don’t know! I don’t know! My Ba made it look so easy!” You watch as her eyes dart around, not talking to anyone in particular as the panic seemingly begins to take over, “I can fix it though! If i just cut–”

“Nope.” You firmly grab Hanni’s wrist as she begins to lift the scissors back up towards her hair, cutting her words short as you wrestle the blades out of her grip. “Y/n–” she starts, “Hanni.” You begin, your voice a tone that is similar to that of an owner telling a dog to sit, eyebrows raised and head cocked to the side as you lock eyes with your friend. She silently stares back, mouth open as if to retort, but it soon closes as she sighs, sitting down on a nearby stool in defeat as you also let out a breath you didnt you know you were holding. At least she didn't have free reign over the scissors. 

“Now let me see what I can do about… this,” You hum, dragging the stool closer to where you stood as you get a better look at Hanni’s hair. The scissors she used were very obviously not haircutting scissors, but you doubted she had anything better on hand. Alongside that, she somehow managed to cut drastically uneven halves of her hair, and it was obvious the cuts on both the left and right side were not a clean process, leaving multiple bluntly chopped bits all within her hair. As for the bangs, thankfully she didn’t cut them too short, actually leaving a lot of hair left to work with. Knowing Hanni, she was probably too scared to commit to the act after seeing what she did to the rest of her hair. Now, you were no hair cutting expert, but anyone with eyes could see what needed to be done in order to fix this mess. Hanni awkwardly avoids eye contact seemingly out of embarrassment as you examine her, eyes looking practically anywhere but within yours as you contemplate your next steps, her cheeks faintly dusted a light shade of pink. You raise the scissors and start off by trying to even out both sides of her hair, the quiet snipping sounds filling the bathroom as Hanni sits up as straight as she can, hands placed a bit too formally on her lap. 

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” 

“Apparently more than you.”

“That's not very comforting.”

“I can always leave your hair like this.”

“Don’t you dare, y/n.” 

Soft, lighthearted giggles erupt from the bathroom as the banter between you two continues. Even in a situation like this, you and Hanni always managed to make each other smile– It's what drew you two to each other. You recall the day you two first met. Through some common friends or the other, somehow you ended up at a picnic within the local park, Hanni being one of the first to arrive. She had brought a container full of fruit to share, and practically dominated the conversation with her cheery attitude– but not in a suffocating kind of way. She somehow managed to know everyone who arrived and they all seemed to naturally flock towards the girl. You were no different than the people she attracted, but you were lucky enough to have her full attention the whole day, her large round eyes attentive and focused on you as you told stories and cracked with everyone. Ever since then, the two of you have been practically inseparable. Always waiting for each other after classes and somehow ending up in comical situations such as this.

After a few more snips of the scissors, you take a step back, taking in your work as Hanni’s eyes flutter open, blinking a bit as she stands up. She approaches the mirror, eyes lighting up as she sees the result. Thanks to your handiwork, her hair had ended up in a lovely dark layered bob with straight across bangs that actually looked intentional. It was a bit shorter than your liking, having the ends land just above her chin, but the other girl didn’t give you much to work with.

“Wow, this actually looks… really good.” Hanni spoke, her voice laced with awe as she continued to admire her reflection, “I kind of look like Mathilda! Y'know, from that kid assassin movie or whatever?” She comments, looking back at you expectantly as you pretend to think for a moment.

“Ah.. That's unfortunate, I was really trying to go for an Edna Mode kind of look… Maybe a bowl cut…” You trail off, feigning regret as you twirl the scissors in your hand, eliciting a snort from Hanni, punching you in the shoulder as you let out a laugh. 

The other girl doesn’t hesitate to pull you into a hug though, even through all of the laughter, and you tense up for only a moment before melting into her touch, your arms wrapping around her waist as her arms snake comfortably around your neck. The light smell of flowers emerges from the embrace, unintentionally causing you to sigh with pleasure as you can feel the vibrations of Hanni giggling into your neck in response. The feeling left your stomach fluttering with butterflies for some reason. Hanni had always smelt really nice, but this time it was a little different– a little more fresh? Maybe the tropical air was doing something to her. 

“Thank you,” you hear her whisper into your ear gently, and you could feel your cheeks warm at the praise as you pull back shyly tucking a strand of your own hair behind your ear as you shrug, “It really was no big deal,” You trail off as Hanni’s gaze shifts back onto her reflection. “Still, I wasn't expecting it to be so… Short.”

You arch a brow at her as you bluntly state, “Well you didn't give me a whole lot of leeway with your little scissor-happy act over there,” which rewarded you with another punch on the shoulder and a tongue stuck out in a childish manner from the short haired girl.

As the two of you exit the bathroom, Hanni lets out a relieved sigh, “aaah, that feels SO much better!” She cooes, stretching her arms and shaking her head, letting her short hair fly as she grins. You also smile at the sight of your friend so happy, but let out a tired breath shortly after. “Well I’m glad you like it, but it's still hot as hell in here.”

An imaginary lightbulb goes off within Hanni’s head as a grin forms on her lips. “I know a place, c’mon,” Hanni grabs your arm, guiding you outside as you immediately get hit with a wave of heat and a flash of light. Squinting, you use your free arm to try and shield your eyes from the sun above, “Do we HAVE to be outside?” You whine, feeling beads of sweat forming on your forehead almost instantaneously as you’re guided to a rather charming looking vespa parked nearby. It was pastel yellow in color, and had some stickers plastered on the side. You watch in awe as the other girl hops on it with confidence, taking a pair of keys out of her pocket as she pats the free seat behind her, “do you HAVE to keep complaining and not trust me?” 

You are once again brought back to a dumbfounded state as you slowly approach the vespa, admiring its quality and state before your eyes go back to Hanni, “Can you actually drive this thing? You never told me!” An almost cartoonish glimmer shines within her eyes as she winks, pressing a finger to her lips as she playfully grins, “There's a lot you don’t know about me, y/n.”

Very hesitantly, you slowly make your way onto the back seat of the vespa, awkwardly sitting as a brief second of silence passes. Hanni rolls her eyes, chuckling lightheartedly at your uncertainty as she grabs your arms and places them around her waist, “You can trust me with this y/n, I promise.” Her voice was soft and reassuring, and she looked at you with her all too familiar warm eyes that made it nearly impossible to not trust her at that very moment. Besides, Hanni wouldn’t actually let you get hurt, you knew that much. Reluctantly, you let out a sigh and tighten your grip on Hanni’s waist, saying a soft “okay…” which resulted in an unseen smile from the other girl and the sound of the engine to rev confidently.

-

If there was one thing Ho Chi Minh City locals perfected, it was the art of organized chaotic traffic. You fearfully bite back a scream as you watch as oncoming traffic simply did not stop for anyone anywhere ever. People did not look before crossing the street and every vespa, motorbike, car, or other miscellaneous vehicle simply maneuvered around one other to get around. You swear your grip on Hanni at this point would cut off all circulation in her body as she lets out a loud and hearty laugh amongst the chaos, speeding up as she weaves in between pedestrians with ease, as if she's been doing this her entire life. “Hanni what the HELL–”

Soon enough the two of you made it out of the city, and Hanni guides you through the dusty terrain of the more rural areas of Vietnam. You were a bit nervous at first, unsure if you were a fan of the bumpy nature of the rocky road that was debatably either safer or more dangerous than those in the city. Once you realize Hanni was no longer entertaining your fears though, you take a moment to finally get out of your own head and live in the moment. Inhale. Exhale. Your eyes glisten as you take in the sights around you. It was so… Green. The lush flora coats the environment with a serene green glow, and the feeling of the wind flying through your hair was such a freeing feeling. Your grasp on Hanni loosens as you let out a loud cheer, laughing as you let everything go. The dappled spots of light from the overhead trees rush past your vision below as you look forward, spotting multiple ox and farmers ahead within the flooded fields. The clouds ahead looked so incredibly soft, and the sky looked bigger than ever– even bigger than how it looked on the plane ride here. You can't help but wonder if it were nighttime, would you be able to see the stars here? You press your cheek against Hanni’s back as you relish in the feeling for a bit, closing your eyes in bliss as the sounds of the nature around you fade.

Before you knew it, the green forestry surrounding you was slowly diminishing, eventually being replaced with a more beige sandy soil. A small gasp leaves your lips as you look out, spotting a small beach with an even larger body of water. The waves glistened beneath the summer sun and you were surprised such a place had absolutely no human traffic. “I found this place when I first got Sunny here,” Hanni practically reads your mind, also glancing over at the ocean before finding a place to park her vespa and hop off, “It's a place the locals keep a secret, and now you also know of it as well.”

You tilt your head a bit in confusion at her comment, hopping off of the vehicle, “Sunny?” Hanni raises her eyebrow as she points to the back end of the Vespa, a large sticker labeled ‘Sunny’ in large white letters is proudly showcased on Hanni’s vespa, and you mentally facepalm as the other girl giggles. Still, it left a warm feeling within your chest knowing Hanni was sharing a hidden area like this with you.

“Come on, let's go in the water! It's hot out here!!” Hanni exclaims loudly, immediately booking it towards the ocean ahead, kicking her shoes off and into the sand in the process. Your eyes widen as you chase after her, hastily taking your shoes off as well as you call out, “Hanni, wait! We didn’t bring our swim suits!” You hissed a little as the sand was unrealistically hot from the sun practically cooking it throughout the day, muttering out little “ow, ow, ow’s” as you hopscotch your way into the water. You couldn't help but notice Hanni was unbothered by the temperature, her new hair allowing a newfound freshness within her step. It truly seemed like she was made for the beach.

“So…?” Hanni extends the word playfully with a grin, already calf deep into water by the time you awkwardly trudge through the ocean towards her, kicking up liquid in the process and splashing Hanni’s shorts. She gasps in shock at the cold sensation and you open your mouth to apologize before getting cut off by water getting shot directly into your face. Salty water entered your mouth and nearly up your nose and you spat it out, wiping your face with your hands as your eyes focused and landed on the culprit, who stared at you with a mischievous grin, bent down within the water to prepare for her next attack. 

“Oh no you dont–” You immediately side step and just narrowly miss an icy cold splash of water before you, bending over to counterattack with twice as much. A high pitched scream followed by genuine laughter followed suit, and the two of you go at it for a little bit, splashing water back and forth in between fits of laughter, completely drenching your clothes. You were happy. Being here, being with her. You took a moment to truly take in the sight of the girl before you. Eyes crescent shaped as she laughs from her heart, a toothy open mouth grin that you knew was genuine and grew to love over the years, and the way her newly cut hair was soaked and stuck to her cheeks and forehead charmingly. You loved the energy Hanni always brought to the table, her constant smile and the endless surprises she had up her sleeve. You were glad she chose you of all people to be her best… friend.

…Oh.

Hanni however, is not aware of your current sentimental and affectionate internal thoughts towards her, and decides to up her game with a new strategy, smirking to herself as she backs up, building up energy while you were catching your breath. You were so worn out and lost within your own thoughts you only noticed the charging bob-haired girl all too late, “Hanni WAI–” 

Practically all of the air got knocked out of you as Hanni strikes you down with a full body bear hug, sending the both of you into the water with a loud splash. Satisfied with her work (and quite worn out by now) Hanni doesn’t even make an attempt to hold you down, going full dead fish on your chest with an innocent grin and multiple giggles as you prop yourself up within the water with your arms. Coughing pathetically, you use one of your hands to wipe your face and slick back your hair as you look at Hanni, who rests very comfortably between your legs and on your chest, her arms wrapped around your waist as she looks up at you with those big dark brown eyes. Your breath hitches as you realize how close your faces are to one another. It wasn’t like you two haven't been this physically close before, but that never stopped you from being flustered. Something about the way she looks at you sometimes always caught you off guard, and you never knew how to handle it. The last time this happened was at your last sleepover together, having talked about past crushes, relationships, and how dating would work after high school graduation. Something about the way she looked at you underneath the sheets after asking about your crushes made your mind go blank. She had that look in her eyes again, and it drove you crazy how you couldn't read it. Cheeks reddening, you instinctively whip your head away, needing to look at something other than Hanni to keep yourself propped up within the water.

Frowning at this reaction, Hanni reaches a hand up and cusps your cheek, guiding your head to face her once again, forcing you to make eye contact with her. “y/n…” Her tone was soft and airy, if anything it was a bit needy. The blush on your cheeks was apparent at this point, and you still had no idea why you were even blushing in the first place, but the way her eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second intensified the color tenfold. You watch as her eyebrows knit together and how she subconsciously bites her lip, a habit she had whenever she was lost in thought– a sight you were familiar with. Even so, it felt different this time. 

You watch as Hanni closes her eyes and leans in, softly pressing her lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss, a very hesitant one at that. Just a small peck. You could tell it was Hanni’s way of “testing the waters” (ba dum tss) but to you? It was everything. You quite literally felt fireworks within your stomach as she kissed you, and the shock left you simply frozen in place, eyes comically wide open for the very brief moment. All too soon, she pulls away. She looks up at you again, a glint of fear and uncertainty in her eyes as she waits for your reaction.

You take a moment to simply sit there dazed, mouth agape in the water once again as panic settles within Hanni at the silence. “Oh my god. I'm so sorry y/n. I-I thought—“ She had begun to hurriedly make her way off of your chest when you quickly grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into you as you brought your lips together. Now it was Hanni’s turn to freeze up, but it was only for a moment. Almost immediately after, you could hear her blissfully sighing into the kiss as her arms snake their way around your neck, your free hand moving down her back and landing comfortably on the small of it.

Her lips were soft, and tasted ever so lightly like berries despite having been splashed with saltwater multiple times. You’d never think you’d find yourself within the beaches of Vietnam, kissing your best friend, yet here you were. The sound of waves surrounds the two of you as you find yourself lost within the movements of her lips. You felt her pull away for air and you almost let out a whine at the sudden lack of contact before she starts peppering kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, nose, chin, forehead, everywhere. “You look so pretty right now y/n-nie~” Hanni cooes as you roll your eyes, pulling her in closer as she focuses her kisses onto your cheek. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time,” you tease, getting a hum in response as Hanni brings you back in for another kiss, whispering “you have no idea..”

“So… Do you have a crush on me or something?”

“Do you not like me back, y/n?”

“Well… I don't know about that...”

“I'm going to leave you here.”

“Noooo~”

Several splashes and giggles erupted from the both of you, and suddenly summer just became a little sweeter.

[mossyivy]

Hi tipsy!!! Hope you’re doing okay bestie! <3

I had a dream about this last night—DI Cowboy Leon and Spoiled/Bratty City Girl User…😜

Let’s just say, he took my attitude away in the best way possible…(Wink Wink 👀) ((In the stables 👀👀))

- Anon! 🎀

Ugh DI Cowboy Leon! You lucky mf I never have dreams like that 🥺

NSFW Under the Cut

CW: Fingering, Praise(kinda?)/Degradation, Man handling (if you squint), Begging, and inappropriate use of a saddle rack.

[Not Proof Read]

You're a new hire from the city after inheriting farm land from your grandfather after he dies and you don't know the first thing about running a farm. But thankfully there's another farm at the other side of town that focuses on animal by products and the owners was good friends with your grandpa. More than happy to teach you the ropes to get the farm back into shape.

So you go to work for Leon on his farm for the next few months per your agreement. What Leon didn't realize was how much of an ungrateful little brat you are. So spoiled by that daddy of yours he saw leave for the city and not turn back when he was a kid.

Constantly arguing with his reasoning (throwing tantrums), rolling your eyes, wasting his time but acting like he's wasting yours and most importantly having no god damn manners. He was doing something nice for a, seemingly, complete stranger and not once had you uttered a single "please" or "thank you". Not that he expected anything out of his kind gesture but he at least expected a thank you.

One evening after sending everyone home, he's irritated, having one of this worst days. He just needed to fix up one of the saddle upholstery and be done with everything for the night. He was on edge entering the stables. Reaching the storage area, he sees you. You're setting the riding gear back up. He specifically told you not to do this. But here you were. Not listening to him as usual.

"I told you not to put everythin' back." You look at him, huffing and rolling your eyes. He swears if you roll your eyes one more time...

"I thought you'd be thankful for me putting everything back. Since apparently no one else could do it." He feels his body tense as you drop the saddle on the floor. Bits of hay and bedding bursting up from the ground as you look at him. Moving past him you grab the few saddles you've put up on their racks, pulling them off to drop to the floor. Leon clenches his jaw, arms crossed as he stares you down.

"Happy?" You mutter, looking at him again. His lips pursed, smacking gently as he opens them.

"Are you a toddler?" You eyes go wide as he steps forward, moving into your personal space. Grabbing the damaged saddle off the floor and steps away throwing it on the standing rack.

"The hell do you mean by that?" Your anger rises as he scoffs, almost like he's about the blow the question off while he looks for his cobbler tool kit.

"You act like a god damn child. How you survived this long I honest to God have no idea!" That got under your skin, watching him turn towards the saddle, starting to assess the damage.

A child? You're not a child! How could you say such a thing? He doesn't know you.

"I'm not a child. You don't know me." He scoffs, glaring at you as you got closer. Getting into his personal space. He knows your type enough to not feel threatened or even anxious by how you're acting.

"Oh, I don't know you? I think I do."

"Enlighten me." He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to hold onto that small shred of rationality he had left before you used that mocking tone. He moves, putting you in between him and the saddle rack. His hands touch the leather of the saddle behind you, arms stiff and trapping you.

There's no escape.

"I know exactly how much of a selfish, entitled lil' brat you are. Walkin' 'round here acting' like you know everythin'." You move your legs, his foot plants between your legs, knee bending into thighs.

"I'm doin' this out of the kindness of my heart for you and you haven't even shown so much as a scrap of appreciation for it." The anger dies in his throat, his leg slipping forward, that's when he feels it.

Wetness seeping through the knee of his jeans, your pussy planted directly on top of it. A small whimper rips from your lips as you look away. Immediately embarrassed by your bodies reaction.

He doesn't even look remotely surprised as he looks down, bending his leg further up into you. Your hands going to grip the saddle behind you as your body moves on it's own. Forcing you on your tip toes. A scoff escapes him, smirk meeting your eyes as he pulls your gaze back to him by the chin.

"Shoulda known. It's always you uptight types that eat up bein' put in your place. You must think I'm delectable, don't you sweetheart?"

"F-fuck you..." His smirk quickly turns to a full blown grin.

"Is that an invitation?" You stutter out bits and pieces of words, making him chuckle as he leans down to your level.

"Lemme guess, those city boys ain't treatin' you right? Left you high and dry. Don't know how to handle your attitude? I could put you back in line if you let me." He moves in closer, lips brush against your neck as he plants wet kisses up to your ear.

"Come on, sugar. Tell me no and I'll stop." His hands fall on your hips, gliding around to your ass with a tight grip as he kisses your neck. Leaving a trail of hickeys to the front of your neck. A soft moan falls from your lips, making him laugh against your skin. Hands slide to your waist, starting to fiddle with your belt.

Unbuckling it enough to get your jean shorts undone and down your legs to the hard floors of the storage area. Leon whistles, looking down at your panties, juices soaked through the thin fabric. Clinging to you lips.

"You always this wet darlin'?"

"No..." He huffs with a cocy grin, thumbs making circles in your hip bones while he stares.

"Figures a stuffy ol' bitch like you would be like this. Just a couple'a words get you actin' up. Soakin' through your own undies like some kinda slut." He watches the fire in your eyes ignite, grabbing the frilly fabric and peeling it off your weeping cunt with a deep groan.

His hands move, fingers guided between your folds, brushing against your clit with a few teasing circles. You bite your lip, muffling a pathetic moan from coming out. He pushes the saddle off the rack with one hand, forcing you against the hard wood. Lips meet lips as he swallows your cries with his kisses, tongues dancing in a flurry of passion.

His fingers slip off your clit and circle your entrance before plunging forward. Tightness envelopes his digits, curling into that spongy spot that makes you pull away from his lips and gasp.

"Feels good don't it darlin'?" You just nod, thighs tightening around his arm when his thumb meets your clit. His name curling from you like the prettiest sound he's ever heard. Thighs shaking as he feels you tightening around his fingers. His hand pulls back, thumb, hand pressing flat against your mound with a gentle squeeze.

"Wha... Why'd you-"

"Beg for it." His hand rubs over your mound with the most gentle of touches, thumb poking past your lips to graze your clit.

"I..."

"You've been nothin' but a God damn thorn in my side since you got here. Beg for it. Prove you want it, be thankful I'm even thinkin' about letting you cum."

"Please, please Leon. I'm- I'm sorry I've been a pain." His lips curl, fingers moving past your lips again and slipping back into place. Thumb on clit and fingers working your g-spot. Your head falls back, a louder cry coming from you as he grabs the front of your neck.

"I didn't tell you to stop." You nod, huffing out a small curse.

"I'm so use to knowing and doing everything I'm just..." You tighten around him again, feeling that warm sensation in your stomach.

"A mouthy cunt." He finishes for you, you nod again, shutting your eyes tight, hips bucking into his hand.

"Yes, yes! I'm a mouthy cunt and I should have been more grateful! But- Please, I just wanna cum. So close." He picks up the pace, holding onto you. You mumble out incoherent "thank you"s as you cry out his name in a sharp breath. Cumming on his fingers. He rolls his hand against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, panting as your body falls limp against him. Huffing and puffing as he kisses the shell of your ear.

"Good girl, knowin' exactly what to say to make it up to me." He gives you a kiss on the lips, and a slap to the ass as he pulls back.

"You gonna be good from now on? Might come with a reward if you follow through with it."

"Yes, Sir." He chuckles, giving you another kiss.

"Sir... I like the sound of that."

[cathkaesque]

Statement on Israel’s Use of Starvation as a Weapon of War in Gaza by the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, Palestine

For five days, Israel has attacked Gaza with the aim of total destruction, and the situation is at an unprecedented level of urgency. Israel’s actions have amounted to a humanitarian catastrophe of unfathomable proportions. At the time of publication, the Palestinian Ministry of Health reports 1,055 martyrs and approximately 5,184 injured.

Israel has declared a total warfare stance on Gaza, imposing a ruthless blockade that denies over two million Palestinian residents of Gaza access to electricity, water, food, fuel, medical supplies, and any humanitarian aid. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant explicitly stated this strategy on 9 October 2023, saying: “We are imposing a complete siege on [Gaza]. No electricity, no food, no water, no fuel – everything is closed. We are fighting human animals, and we act accordingly.”

Israel’s deliberate use of starvation as a weapon of war demands the international community immediately respond with unwavering urgency and resolve.

Israel is indiscriminately decimating hospitals, schools, mosques, markets, and entire neighborhoods. Further, Israel threatened Egypt that it would bomb humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza, prompting Egypt to withdraw its aid convoys. The Rafah Crossing into Egypt, the sole international exit from Gaza, has been bombed by Israel three times in a 24-hour period. This calculated assault severs Gazans’ only means of escape from ceaseless bombings or access to essential humanitarian aid. With Israel cutting off Gaza’s source of electricity, the only source of power was the Gaza Power Plant, which has just run out of fuel. In the case that it receives more fuel, Israel has threatened to attack the plant.

Israel’s assault is deliberately destroying any infrastructure that allows Gazans to support themselves. Vital agricultural and fishing infrastructure, crucial for food production, have been mercilessly attacked. Fisher folk cannot access the sea, into which sewage is spilling. The seaport is damaged, and tools are obliterated. Farming areas, often near the fence, have become vulnerable targets in Israeli airstrikes, and farmers whose land has not been destroyed cannot access it for daily agricultural practices. The Ministry of Agriculture reports that the bombing has done immense damage to agricultural areas and poultry farms, but the conditions make it impossible to precisely assess the situation in the field. There is a catastrophic decrease in food stocks, with shops across Gaza reporting severe shortages. The land and sea will face unimaginable environmental damages following these attacks, further preventing efforts to rebuild livelihoods.

Israel’s strategy aims to ensure that those who survive the bombs are condemned to a future without sustenance.

OCHA reports that the assaults have disrupted the UNRWA food operation, impacting at least 112,759 families. The poultry and livestock sectors are on the brink of collapse due to the severe shortage of fodder, endangering the livelihoods of more than 1,000 herders and affecting over 10,000 producers. This jeopardizes the provision of animal protein and the availability of meat and fresh sources of protein for Gaza’s entire population. Transportation of poultry to markets has virtually halted, and dairy cattle milk cannot be refrigerated nor marketed to factories, resulting in an expected daily spoilage of 35,000 liters of milk. More than 4,000 fisheries are at risk due to the closure of the sea. Gaza’s agriculture, poultry, cattle, fish, and other products are suffering from a lack of refrigeration, irrigation, incubation, and other machinery due to electricity cuts, causing spoilage.

Israel’s use of these tactics is not new by any means. Before Saturday, around 65% of the Gazan population was food insecure. More than 46% of the agricultural land in Gaza was inaccessible, and the fishing industry was severely struggling since fishing off the coast of Gaza has been restricted by Israel to 3 to 6 nautical miles.

Food insecurity is a human-made crisis, and Israel is manufacturing a mass starvation of the Gazan people.

It is the moral and legal obligation of the international community to intervene and end this crisis immediately. Food, as a basic necessity, must be allowed to reach the people of Gaza, and the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure must cease without delay.

We call upon the international community to take immediate action to stop Israel’s massacre of the Gazan population, demand the lifting of the siege, and establish humanitarian corridors for entry of aid.

[nerdynarrator28]

Storm of the Heart-Tyler Owen’s x Reader PT. 3

Synopsis: Being a sister to one of the notorious storm chaser crews online was a lot, You were Boone’s Sister, you have always heard stories from him and watched all the videos when they were live storm chasing. One Day your Brother invites you to go Storm Chasing with him and the crew, what will happen during that time? Will you and a Certain Storm Chaser get close to each other?

Pairings: Tyler Owen’s x Reader

Word Count:667

Author Note: Thank you Everyone! Who has made my story an Hit! And for everyone enjoying it! I have decided to write a part 3 ❤️🤗 Enjoy!!

Six months had passed since you and Tyler officially became a couple. Your relationship had weathered its fair share of storms, both literal and metaphorical. Balancing your regular job with your growing passion for storm chasing – and Tyler – wasn't always easy, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Today marked a significant milestone: your first major chase as a full-fledged member of the team. You'd finally taken the plunge, quitting your job to chase storms full-time alongside Tyler and Boone.

As you prepped the equipment, you felt Tyler's arms wrap around you from behind. "Nervous?" he asked, his breath warm against your ear.

You leaned into him, smiling. "A little. But mostly excited."

"You've got this," he assured you, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before moving to help the others.

Boone approached, a mixture of pride and concern on his face. "Ready for your big debut, sis?"

You nodded, determination setting in. "Born ready."

The chase was unlike anything you'd experienced before. A massive supercell was spawning multiple tornadoes, keeping the entire team on high alert. You found yourself working in perfect sync with Tyler, calling out observations and helping navigate through the treacherous conditions.

As you tracked a particularly large tornado, Tyler's voice crackled over the radio. "We need to get closer for better data. Y/N, you up for it?"

Your heart raced with a mixture of fear and excitement. "Let's do it."

You maneuvered your vehicle closer to the twister, adrenaline pumping through your veins. The wind howled around you, debris flying past in a deadly dance.

Suddenly, a violent gust rocked your car. You fought to maintain control, your training kicking in. "Tyler, I'm losing grip here!"

"Hold on, I'm coming to you!" His voice was tense but steady.

As you struggled with the wheel, a memory flashed through your mind – Tyler teaching you emergency maneuvers, his hands guiding yours, his voice calm and reassuring. Drawing strength from that memory, you managed to steer the vehicle to safety.

When the storm finally passed, you sat in your car, hands shaking slightly. Tyler's vehicle screeched to a halt beside you, and he was at your door in seconds.

"Y/N! Are you okay?" His eyes were wild with worry as he helped you out.

You nodded, still a bit dazed. "I'm fine. That was... intense."

He pulled you into a tight embrace. "You were amazing out there. I've never seen anyone handle a situation like that so well on their first major chase."

Boone's voice interrupted the moment. "If you two are done with the romance novel scene, we've got data to collect."

You both laughed, the tension breaking. As you worked alongside the team to gather readings and assess the damage, you felt a profound sense of belonging. This was where you were meant to be.

Later that night, as the team celebrated another successful chase, Tyler pulled you aside. "I've got something for you," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

He handed you a small box. Inside was a beautiful pendant – a silver tornado with a tiny diamond at its heart.

"Tyler, it's gorgeous," you breathed.

He took the necklace, gently fastening it around your neck. "I wanted to give you something to commemorate your first official chase. And to remind you that no matter how chaotic things get out there, you'll always be the calm at the center of my storm."

Tears pricked at your eyes as you kissed him, pouring all your love and gratitude into the gesture.

Boone's voice once again broke the moment. "Alright, you two. Enough mushiness. We've got another system forming tomorrow, and I need my best team well-rested."

As you joined the others, Tyler's arm around your waist and your new pendant resting against your heart, you knew you'd found your true calling. Life with Tyler and the chase team would never be predictable or easy, but it would always be thrilling, passionate, and deeply fulfilling.

The road ahead might be fraught with dangers, both from the storms you chased and the challenges of balancing love and career. But with Tyler by your side and your newfound family of storm chasers supporting you, you were ready to face whatever cyclones life might throw your way

[punkshort]

The Contractor

Summary: Joel joins you at work to help fix some things around the greenhouse.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!reader, established relationship, set in the TWWW universe but can be read stand alone, no use of Y/N.

Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI)

Word count: 3.4K

January 2006

The sun was just beginning to rise, bringing on the start of another frigid winter morning as you and Joel made your way down the street towards the greenhouse. Every time you exhaled, you saw your breath puff out and disappear with the bitter wind. Joel carried his thermos in one hand and a toolbox in the other, seemingly unfazed by the blustery conditions as he took a sip of coffee. By the time you reached the greenhouse, you felt tears forming in the corners of your eyes from the biting wind whipping around you.

You gasped with relief when you finally entered the warm and humid building. It was a treat to work in the greenhouse in winter, but you always paid for it during the summer.

"You're so sweet for spending your day off helping me," you said to him as you hung your outerwear on the hooks by the door.

"This is the kinda stuff I like doin'," he replied, picking his toolbox up from the floor after he shed his coat. "The fact it's for you makes me like it even more."

You gave him a smile and a quick kiss to show your appreciation. "Follow me, I'll show you the two benches that are broken. And I was thinking if you have time, maybe you could build me a small shelf so I could put all my fertilizers and spray bottles away."

"Whatever you say, ma'am," he said, giving the back of your head a two-finger salute as he followed you down the long aisles toward the back of the building. You led him over to the last row of benches that were void of any plants due to a broken leg on one and a buckling middle on the other. He crouched down to take a look at the underside of both to assess the damage, then stood.

"I can fix 'em, no problem," he told you. "Just need some two by fours to stabilize 'em."

"Oh, Carl brought some wood from the stables yesterday. Will this work?" you asked as you led him past the small, enclosed office space where the wood was piled in the corner.

"Yep, that'll do," he said, leaning down to pick up a few pieces. You watched him for a moment as he dropped the wood unceremoniously on the floor next to the broken benches before he lifted one onto its side, then moved it again so it was upside down with a grunt.

You wandered into the office and sat down at the metal desk, reviewing your notes from the days prior and looking at your schedule for the week ahead. You were busy logging the harvest numbers for potatoes when you realized the noise Joel had been making stopped. You turned to look out the office window and saw him shrugging his flannel off, tossing it onto the other empty bench, leaving him in a plain grey tee.

You sat, entranced, as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand before shoving his glove back on. He bent over to continue hammering some nails into a piece of wood, his shirt riding up and exposing a small sliver of his back.

You decided you could do your notes later and it might be a good time to plant some seeds, instead.

You stepped out of the office, wrapping an apron around your waist to protect your clothes from the dirt. Your eyes raked over Joel's body as you passed him, noticing the back of his neck had begun to collect beads of sweat.

Standing about ten feet from Joel, you pulled a marker out of your apron to scribble the names of herbs on some tags before you got your hands messy. Your gaze traveled over to Joel when you heard him grunt. He was flipping the bench back upright to test his work. You paused, watching the muscles in his arms flex with each tug, his jaw tense as he strained from the effort.

He sighed once he got the bench upright and shook it roughly, testing its strength. He seemed pleased because he shoved it back against the wall. He was about to turn his attention to the other bench when he noticed you hadn't moved in a while. He looked up at you, and you quickly came up with an excuse for staring at him.

"Do you need some water?" you asked, your mouth dry and your eyes unblinking as you tried not to focus on his sweat beginning to soak through the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, thanks," he said, oblivious to what was happening to you. When you moved, you could feel the slick of your arousal pooling in your underwear, rubbing against your sensitive skin with each step.

You grabbed his water bottle and brought it over to him, holding it out and noticing he was panting a bit from the heat and the physical effort it took to do his repairs.

He nodded at you before removing his gloves and unscrewing the cap, tipping the bottle back, his face angled straight up towards the ceiling. You watched his throat as he drank, his Adam's apple bobbing under a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed roughly, unable to look away and trying to resist the urge to run your tongue along his neck. When a small drop of water escaped from the corner of his mouth and slowly made its way past his jaw and down his throat, you had to bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from audibly moaning.

"Am I disturbin' you?" he asked, his eyes focused on screwing the top back on his water bottle.

"Not at all," you assured him, leaning back against a barrel of rain water.

"I shouldn't be much longer. This one'll be quicker to fix, and a small shelf won't take much time."

"Mhm, that's fine," you said distractedly.

"Somethin' the matter? You feelin' alright?" he asked you, his brows furrowed. "Your face looks hot."

Your breath hitched in your throat as you considered your options. It was just supposed to be you working today, but that didn't necessarily mean someone wouldn't pop in unannounced. You squeezed your thighs together and crossed your arms over your chest as he waited for your answer.

"I'm fine. It's just hot in here today," you told him, wiping some sweat from your neck. His eyes narrowed as he watched you shift your weight, and he began to connect the dots.

"You sure that's all?" he asked lowly, pinning you with his gaze.

"You know, I've never actually seen you work," you told him, ignoring his question. "I never came to see you when you worked on the wall, and before, I only ever saw you at the office."

He took a couple steps towards you, and you could feel your pulse quicken. He casually leaned against a rain barrel next to yours, the heat behind his gaze growing when he noticed your chest rising and falling faster than usual.

"Yeah, suppose that's true," he replied, inching closer. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back up again. "And what'dya think of my work?"

Your lips parted as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, his large body crowding yours against the barrel. He was so close now you could smell the sweat on him, and it was making you dizzy. You tentatively reached out to thread each pointer finger through his belt loops.

"I think I'm starting to realize why you're so good with your hands," you whispered right before his mouth crashed down on yours.

You yanked on his jeans, pulling him closer to you as his hands gripped your waist tightly. You greedily opened your mouth against his and slipped your tongue past his lips, tasting the remnants from his coffee earlier that morning. He turned your body, walking you backwards towards the office door while your fingers slid up from his belt and skirted under his t shirt.

Your fingertips left trails through his sweat over his soft stomach and up to his broad chest, moaning into his mouth when you finally felt the old desk hit the back of your legs. You wiggled yourself up to sit on top of it without breaking contact with Joel, your hands still dancing over his skin.

Joel lifted a hand from your waist to grip your jaw, opening your mouth wider as he hungrily licked behind your teeth, desperate to taste you. You tipped your head back, gasping for air while he nibbled at your jaw, his hand sliding to the back of your neck to hold you close as he made his way to the pulse point thrumming steadily against your skin, his lips sucking a mark against your throat.

The ache between your legs was unbearable. You felt yourself clench around nothing while he ran his hand up the front of your shirt, tugging the cup of your bra down so he could roll your sensitive nipple between his fingers, eliciting a low groan from your throat.

"Let's go home," he said, his words muffled since his lips were still locked onto your neck.

"No," you whined. "Can't wait." You leaned your head forward, causing him to lose contact with your neck, and pressed the tip of your wet tongue against the warm skin on his collarbone, tasting his salty sweat as you slowly dragged your tongue all the way up his throat, just like you wanted to do all morning.

"Fuck," he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as you reached for his belt. "Here?"

"Yes," you panted, your fingers fumbling for a minute before you finally got the buckle undone. You landed on the button of his jeans when his hands stopped you.

"You sure? Door's unlocked," he mumbled, but he eagerly undid his jeans for you anyway. You slid down from the desk and sunk onto your knees in front of him, giving the pantlegs of his jeans a couple tugs down so his hips and upper thighs were accessible.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, staring down at you. His pupils were blown wide, and his lips were parted as he panted lightly from the excitement. You slipped your fingers inside the opening of his boxers to free his throbbing erection, already dripping a bead of precum at the tip.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" you asked him, your eyes fixed on his cock, gently stroking up and down, committing to memory the noise he made and the way he twitched in your palm. You flicked your eyes back up to his and you saw him gulp.

"Eyes on the door, if you're so worried about it," you told him, then leaned forward to lick a stripe from his base all the way to the top, your tongue scooping up the wetness collecting there. He let out a shaky groan when you wrapped your mouth around his engorged tip, swirling your tongue around as you slowly eased him into your mouth inch by inch until you were sure you couldn't take any more.

"I ain't watchin' shit when I got my cock down your throat," he said through clenched teeth. "Whole town can walk in for all I care."

The corners of your mouth turned up into a smile as you pulled back. You wrapped your hand around the rest of him and used your other hand to balance yourself on his thigh as you leaned forward again, taking him as far as you could and flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. Once you established a rhythm, you picked up the speed a bit, pumping and twisting your fist as you moaned around his cock. You caught on quickly that the vibrations from your voice made a difference when he reached a hand down to get tangled in your hair and his hips began their shallow thrusts into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered as he watched you hollow out your cheeks to form a tighter seal around him. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you tried to take him deeper. When you looked up to meet his gaze and he saw a single tear slide down your cheek, he pulled your head off him abruptly.

"Gonna make me come if you keep goin'," he said with a grunt, palming himself as he took in the sight of you on your knees before him.

You stared up at him, your mouth open and panting, saliva covering your red, swollen lips, and your hair a mess from his fingers.

"Up," he commanded while kicking the door to the office closed.

"There's a window in the door, anyone could still see," you told him as you yanked your apron and jeans off.

"I know," he said, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his knees. You pressed your palms flat against the desk and jutted your hips back, looking at him over your shoulder as he ran his cock through your soaking wet folds.

"Then why bother closing it?" you murmured, your eyes sliding shut when you felt him notch at your entrance. His hands found a home on your hips as he pushed forward, giving you only a few moments before he sheathed himself inside you completely. You let out a strangled cry, and tipped your head back, finally able to feel some relief from the ache that had been building all morning.

"Oh, fuck, Joel," you sobbed, your voice echoing in the small room. He snapped his hips into you steadily, curses and moans mixed with garbled versions of his name falling loudly from your lips.

"That's why," he grunted before biting your earlobe, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. "No one gets to hear these sounds except for me."

You fell forward onto the desk, no longer able to hold yourself up. Your cheek pressed into the cool metal and your fingers scrambled to find the edge of the desk, but Joel's thrusts had pushed it flush against the wall. All you could hear was his sweat soaked skin slapping against yours and the metal legs of the desk squeaking on the concrete floor.

"What got my girl so worked up today, hm?" he asked you, his palm traveling under your shirt and up your spine, gently holding you flat against the desk. You moaned quietly as he repositioned himself behind you to thrust even deeper inside your slick cunt. "What happened to make you wanna drop to your knees on this dirty floor and suck my cock?"

"Joel..." you wailed into the crook of your arm, trying to muffle your sounds. He yanked your arm away and twisted it so it was pinned to your lower back, his hips slamming into you so hard that your jaw was permanently hung open in a silent scream.

"Don't do that," he warned you, and you were sure you would have bruises against your hips from the edge of the desk tomorrow.

"Don't fuckin' hide those - sounds - from - me," he growled, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust of his hips. You could feel your release approaching, the warmth pooling in the bottom of your stomach and the flush creeping up your neck. You were about to warn him when a loud crack filled the room, and Joel yanked you backwards against him just in time to watch the desk slump to the side, your papers and notebook scattering across the floor.

"Jesus," you gasped, then whined as Joel pulled out of you suddenly. He twisted you around to push your back up against the wall, then lifted your legs so you could wrap them around his waist and stuffed his cock back inside you with a deep groan.

Your fingers dug desperately into his shoulders as you rocked your hips forward, trying to keep pace with him. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs roughly as he pounded into you, his face buried in your shoulder. You raked a hand through his dark curls, then tightened your fingers around them, tugging to pull him up so you could see his face.

His dark eyes searched yours, his jaw clenched as he chased his release. You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, which caused him to change the direction of his hips, and suddenly he was pushing against that spot inside you that always made you come undone. You turned your head to the side as you felt your orgasm bubbling quickly to the surface. Joel could feel you clenching around him, so he slotted his lips sloppily against yours to pull your attention back.

"Look at me when you come," he told you. Your jaw was slack and your eyes were glazing over as the flames stoked inside you, rising higher and higher. You were barely able to hear him, but you still nodded weakly.

"Joel..." you moaned, your head tipping back but your eyes still locked on his. "I-I'm close."

He nodded, his eyes burning into you, his fingers slipping against your sweat coated thighs.

"I know, sweetheart. I can feel you squeezin' me, so goddamn tight," he grunted, his pace not letting up.

You felt your orgasm rip through you violently, the intensity taking you by surprise. You cried out his name and rutted your hips against him, turning your face to the side out of habit, but his fingers quickly gripped your chin and pulled your gaze back to his.

"Eyes on me," he reminded you firmly, but you couldn't muster a response. You just kept your eyes locked on his, your jaw slack and your eyebrows pinched as your orgasm washed over you. You felt your body immediately go limp and you struggled with all your might to keep your legs wrapped around his waist.

He groaned, his hips stuttering into you as you tipped your head back against the wall, your eyes sliding shut. He rested his head back on your shoulder. His breath fanned over your hot skin and when his teeth sunk onto your collarbone, you yelped.

"Please, Joel," you whimpered. "I need you to come for me."

He cursed and pulled out quickly, his wet cock sliding against your leg as he coated your thighs with his release.

"Shit," he whispered with his eyes closed, his sticky forehead pressed against yours, gasping for air. "It's so fuckin' hot in here."

Laughter bubbled up from your throat while Joel slowly released your shaky legs back down to the floor. You immediately collapsed in the desk chair, wiping the sweat from your face and chest. Your hair felt wet as you raked your fingers through it, trying to tame the mess.

Joel tugged his jeans and underwear back up, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket to gently clean you up. You watched him through heavy lidded eyes as he tended to you: leaving sweet kisses over your stomach before finding your clothes and peppering your legs with more kisses as he pulled your underwear and jeans back on.

He slouched on the floor against the wall of the office while you continued to catch your breath in the chair, your head tipped back over the top and your trembling legs stretched out.

"You never answered my question," he said, lifting his head up to look at you. You rolled your head lazily to the side, raising a confused eyebrow.

"What gotcha so worked up?"

You grinned and sat up in the chair, wincing slightly at your already sore legs and back.

"I never saw you do stuff like this before," you said with a shrug. "Fixing things. Building things. I don't know, just watching you do that really turned me on."

He smirked and turned his face away, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck. It was never lost on him how you simply loved him for being him. Something he wasn't sure he ever had before. Most of the women he had dated were only interested in the white collar parts of his life, always forgetting that the blue collar part is what made him so successful in the first place. But not you. You only ever saw him, loved him, for who he was, flaws and all.

"Well," he said with a grunt as he rose up from the floor, "do'ya think you can keep it together for the rest of the day? 'Cause I just added one more thing to my list." He jutted his chin towards the broken desk behind you and you giggled, standing up on wobbly legs to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I'll do my best, Mr. Miller," you said with a wink, grabbing your apron off the floor and heading back to work.

Tag List: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby @partyofone3413 @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina

[rebeccathenaturalist]

The most salient point to me in all this is that he used an unnamed ID app to try to figure out what mushrooms he found because he thought "Man those look good." The app misidentified the mushrooms as edible puffballs, but in reality they were destroying angels (Amanita ocreata). One is enough to kill an adult, and this person ate four of them. He's very, very lucky to be alive.

This is far from the first time someone put their entire faith in a single app to tell them what mushroom they were looking at, and then they paid the price with their health. You're going to hear me say this again and again: never, ever, ever use an app as your only tool for identifying anything, especially if you're planning to eat it. An app can be useful in conjunction with other tools like books, websites, online foraging groups, etc. But apps are frequently wrong, and are not the easy answer many people seem to want them to be.

(Rant about foraging below the cut.)

This right here is why I spend a decent amount of time in my foraging classes trying to scare the hell out of my students. I want them to understand the risks, not just as a brief aside, but as anecdotes I've collected from the news over the years like this one. I have had more than one person say afterward "Wow, I had a really romanticized view of foraging, and now I'm going to be more careful." That's a clue to me that I've done my job.

It's why my classes are SO focused on identification skills and tools to make you a more informed and careful forager. I am not going to just spend a bunch of time showing you slides of all sorts of edible species, with a little bit of information on how to identify and collect them tucked in before or after. Yes, we do look at some beginner-friendly species near the end of the class, but if all you want to get out of a foraging class is names and pictures of edible plants or fungi, that's what field guides are for. I spend the bulk of the time doing my absolute best to make sure people are PREPARED to go out and use their observational and critical thinking skills when assessing a new-to-them species, to include making use of many different types of resource, not just a single app.

I have literally had people complain that we spent too much time on "boring" stuff, and not enough on the edible species themselves---aaaaaand I don't care. My goal is to try as hard as I can to make sure incidents like the article above don't happen in the first place, which is going to take more than a couple of hours of looking at pretty pictures of mushrooms. Sure, sometimes all you get is a night of bad indigestion, but if you get one of the really nasty species full of amatoxins, you can die. Or end up with permanent liver and/or kidney damage. Or need an organ transplant.

And yes, as I said, you will get information on some species that I think are relatively beginner-friendly because they're distinctive AND they don't have any really serious poisonous lookalikes. But puffballs aren't on that list, and this article is a perfect example of why.

[sunderingstars]

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✩ ‧₊˚ ⌞ KIT & ABILITIES ⌝

sampo analysis m.list

— what the stars reveal: analysis, elation!sampo

— word count: 2.5k

— overview: (as of 2.2) a thorough look at sampo’s kit and gameplay, assessing for potential links to aha the elation.

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Let’s start with the basics: his Path and element.

Nihility: The Path of the Aeon IX. Its symbol is reminiscent of both a sharp-edged eye and a black hole, which matches with the idea of “Nihility” seeing the universe as ultimately pointless and meaningless. Playstyle-wise, Nihility relies on debuffs. 

For Sampo, I find the “Nihility” Path interesting, mostly because it implies a lack of something. A stripping down, a falling away. Hiding, shadows, disappearance — these are all concepts evoked by the “black hole” of IX. While I don’t believe Nihility to be the beginning of Sampo’s existence, it is important to note that this “lessening,” this “disillusionment,” seems to be enough of a part of him to warrant walking on the Path. (My personal theory is that the Nihility is directly related to Sampo’s position as Aha or an Emanator of Elation, and his walking on the Path is either due to a genuine “disillusionment” with his existence or a deliberate hiding of his true feelings — essentially using the Nihility as a cloak to obscure himself from prying eyes. Or both.)

Debuffs are also important, as it shows Sampo’s nature of avoiding direct confrontation. He isn’t a tank, or a healer, or a main DPS — he’s a DOT dealer. Damage over time. He waits for the seeds he planted to sprout and take down his enemies for him. This is reminiscent of the silhouette in Aha’s splash art to me, as both carry similar themes of shadows and operating from the background. (It also reminds me of the time Aha infiltrated the Express Crew and spent who-knows-how-long subtly stealing Pom-Pom’s leftovers — among other things — before finally being caught. Aha seems to have a preference for operating in chaotic yet patient, debuff-type ways.)

These general concepts can also apply to his Element — wind. Wind shear is a strong DOT effect, so my conclusions about debuffing and DOTs can carry over. However, wind is additionally interesting as its base element. I find it interesting that Sampo deals Wind damage rather than Ice or Lightning since his surname (Koski) translates to “water rapids” in Finnish. At the very least, Ice is a different state of water and Lightning is often associated with storms, but no — his element is Wind. 

My main theory is that perhaps this symbolizes his ever-changing persona; like the wind, he flits from place to place, letting the currents of air take him wherever there is new Elation to experience, new money to be scored. It might also symbolize a want to be free. A want, like the wind, to drift away from land and soar in the sky. Wind is, after all, an extremely flexible element. 

(A quick Google search has also revealed the element of wind to widely symbolize fleeting, transient, and elusive natures of being, as well as change, uncertainty, and the intangible. These are aspects I find relevant to Aha, as Aeonic consciousness is most likely all of these things — difficult to grasp, difficult to understand, a constant intangible state far above mortals. Wind also symbolizes freedom, which depending on what theory you go by, may be something Sampo is trying to obtain as well.)

Now let’s get into the real focus of this analysis: Sampo’s abilities. Let’s start with his Basic ATK, then work our way up.

So: Dazzling Blades. I feel like I should address the elephant in the room — Sampo wields dual blades. 

We can see this clearly in his idle stance before his Basic, as he has them separated by hand (unlike how they seem to be combined in his splash art). I’ll leave my red string board connections between dual blades and dual consciousness, as well as the blades looking like snake fangs, for my outfit analysis. For now, let’s just focus on the ability itself. The dual blades Sampo wields allow him to be dexterous in his fighting style, constantly combining and breaking the two apart (trust me I am trying so hard to hold off on “the combining and splitting of dual blades potentially links to the combining and splitting of Aeonic consciousness” for my outfit analysis, ooh I am trying so hard).

For the Basic ATK, he uses both split-apart blades to deal damage. The icon art for this shows the weapon as a whole, and doesn’t seem to stick out much in my opinion. It’s a simple attack, steady, durable, and it plays on Sampo’s strengths and dual-sided nature.

(Note his confidence in this pose. No longer is the “separation” causing him to be more on guard — he seems more relaxed here, confident in his power. Hips thrust out to the world, fully open, no shame in sight. He is whole, now, and he is powerful. Yet, this delusional, dare I say Elated, confidence seems to go a bit too far to be safe or sane. Look at that head tilt. Man is drunk on power.)

Next is his Skill, Ricochet Love, which combines the blades together as Sampo tosses them between enemies. This higher level of power from Basic ATK to Skill includes combining both blades (both dual “sides”) to achieve a greater amount of damage. This does not have to be purely read as Aha!Sampo, and could also be seen as him combining both the “Fool” in him with his persona as Sampo Koski. Either way, reconciling these two parts of himself — these two “blades” — leads to more effective output. (Even the icon art shows this, with two circles appearing to be in motion.)

(Side Note: The combined blades seem to be inverted — if you’ve read my Aha splash art analysis, this may also tie into the seeming “inversion” of Sampo’s E6 and Aha’s silhouette. This could count towards the idea of “two halves of one whole,” or dual consciousness. Or it’s just a cool snake motif so his hand doesn’t get scratched when he throws. Who knows 🤷.)

The name “Ricochet Love” is also notable to me because it shares a similarity to the name of Sampo’s E1 “Rising Love.” We are once again getting heavy indications of “love” as a main function of his kit, and by extension his personality. “Dispersing love” (which can potentially be seen as “dispersing Elation” depending on how you look at it) seems to be a central theme for his character.

Which segways fairly nicely into his burst, Surprise Present.

Oh Lord, do I have so much to say about his burst. Saving the best for last, let’s start with the smaller details: “love” and deception. As we can see, the icon art (and direct usage of his burst) has hearts within hearts, even hearts seeming to function as eyes. That combined with the hiding of his upper face during his burst hints at a hiding of one’s identity as well as themes of “love” and dispersing it. In fact, it may imply that Sampo sees this damage — these DOTs, these debuffs — as a form of love themselves. 

Okay, I can’t hold back anymore, I have to get it out:

(Caps Warning)

HIS BURST IS A BOMB I REPEAT: HIS BURST IS A BOMB. HIS BURST IS A HIDDEN BOMB THAT HE HIDES BEHIND HIS BACK BEFORE DETONATING. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE HID A BOMB. YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS KNOWN FOR A BIG BOMB-RELATED SCANDAL? THAT’S RIGHT BABY AHA THE ELATION AHA THE ELATION BLEW UP THE ASTRAL EXPRESS! WITH A BOMB!!!

Sorry. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s see if I can collect my thoughts more coherently.

I would say Sampo’s burst is one of the most solid pieces of evidence towards an identity as Aha the Elation (right up there with the third person references and lack of boarding the Astral Express). 

(Note: the only time he actively looks up is with the bomb, all other times are across or down. This subversion of expectation, of only putting oneself in a position of looking up if it’s to harm others to accomplish a goal — may further hint to “hidden” identity, as well as an Emanator potentially going against their Aeon (someone “above” them).)

As we can see in these screenshots, there is a clear deception to the entire thing, starting with the “just one moment” gesture and the closed case behind his back, following through the the sliding forward on his knees like he’s proposing, to eventually culminating in the opening of the case with roses and the “love” bomb. Beyond tying in to Aha’s modus operandi on the Express (gaining their trust, waiting for the right moment, then revealing the deception), it is also notable how the case obscures the upper part of his face. Aha’s splash art has an obscured upper face as well, and the opening of the case over his face is drawing our attention to the bomb — the gaud and the glamor of the masks — while his own, shadowed smile — the silhouette — operates in the background.

Beyond Aha, this obscuring of the face could also speak to a more general obfuscation of his identity within the Masked Fools, as well as the unpredictable “surprise” of Fools revealing themselves, but where’s the fun in that? I personally like to think the “love bomb” relates to Aha’s blowing up of the Express as some twisted form of “love” — that Aha perhaps sees “Elation” and “love” as overlapping concepts, which They then take upon Themselves to spread across the universe. Laughter, happiness, and Elation, after all, are all things that can result from love. (It is important to note that Aha in Aeonic form is most likely not limited to just “Elation as love,” but most likely encompasses a broader range of feelings and emotions about it — however, Sampo in human form may take on more of this idea as a result of being more “mortal-minded” in the moment. Or, an Emanator! or Doll!Sampo may absorb some of Aha’s views by osmosis, while still forming their own conclusions as separate entities.)

(Also! The name “Surprise Present” feels similar to giving a “gift,” once again implying that Sampo may view dispersing Elation as a form of “gift-giving.” It’s not a bomb, Pom-Pom, it’s a loving, handmade present!)

Before I close out, I want to look at his other talents real quick. 

“Windtorn Dagger” is fairly straightforward, upping his chance to inflict DOT and giving it some scaled buffs. The icon itself seems to be reminiscent of a shield or perhaps the shoulder guard he wears. “Windtorn” also implies a wearing away, a potential erosion of a past self — whether that be Aha or Emanator status.

“Spice Up” sticks out mainly in name, tying back into concepts of Elation as interest, entertainment, and fun. It’s the almost compulsory need to make everyone more interesting, more Elated, or else it’s just not good enough. A boring situation needs to be changed, not abandoned.

“Trap,” of course, leads me right back to deception. Aha’s mortal form on the Astral Express was a trap. Aha seems to be good at getting ahead of the curve and setting traps. This implies that Sampo is more than he seems, and that whatever is lurking within his mind may spring out at a moment’s notice.

“Defensive Position” is a natural urge to defend oneself, to protect the more vulnerable parts of one’s being from harm. Not much to say here, only that the “defense” is not a shield or heal, but the regaining of energy (power) faster. This may allude to stretches of time where Sampo cannot use his full power, and must wait and hope for the right time to come around, or for him to properly “charge.” Or, of course, I’m reading way too much into things and it’s just a needed buff for his kit. But I’m not here to digress, I’m here to be delusional. 

So, onward to his technique!

Most of what I would discuss here has already been discussed with his burst — this is yet another instance of him using a bomb to disorient and confuse, heavily tying in to Aha’s bombing of the Astral Express. A notable aspect, however, is the Blind effect. Sampo’s technique does not stun, or freeze, or confuse — it blinds. It allows the team to go undetected, undercover. The enemies literally cannot see the people that are right in front of them, and because of that their actions are delayed when entering combat. 

While this could apply to a general Masked Fool status, again, I’m here to be fun and whimsical and silly! So, I believe this may allude to Aha being “right under our noses.” Just like his technique, Sampo may be obfuscating his own Aeonic (or perhaps even Emanator) status by whatever form he has taken, passing us by and interacting with us while we are none the wiser. The goal of this may be to catch us off guard later, delaying our action just enough so that Sampo can come out on top.

“Shining Bright” also ties to Aha’s splash art — the idea of blinding and misdirecting the viewer with the gaud and glamour of masks while the shadowed silhouette carries out its mission in the background. Basically: Boom! Flashbang!

I also wanted to note how when Sampo slashes destructible objects, they don’t shatter like with other characters, but rather cleanly, silently, slice in half. To me, this further emphasizes the “shadows in the background” nature of Sampo’s character, the idea of operating under the radar so silently even objects bend to his will. It may also speak to split consciousness, as nothing ever shatters into pieces, only breaks into clean, segmented slices.

Honorable mentions include: Sampo’s crowd controlled state and downed poses.

(Cutie pie, holding the blades close to his chest like a snake about to strike. Hip window on full display. Mr. Sampo Koski I’m love you.)

(Gremlin status, looking like a puppet cut from its strings. Hiding his face with his hair as much as possible. Oh, he is not having a very good time.)

(Pure creature mode. Fully hiding face. Interesting to note how he has a fixation on his face — “Hey, watch the face!” comes to mind — and hiding it. May be a Masked Fools thing, but I like to think it’s because either A. There’s some hidden power he doesn’t want us to see or B. Doll!Sampo is worried about “breaking.” He’s not like the other characters here, somewhat hiding their faces just because they’re bent over. No, he’s almost pushing his face between his knees, using them to bracket any view someone might get. Perhaps he’s trying to keep something in. Or maybe he’s just a puppet going offline.)

Some other downed poses for reference:

Overall, I think Sampo’s kit and abilities carry a lot of clues for Elation!Sampo theories. While most of this is pure interpretation, I feel like the bomb burst is a pretty strong connection, as well as the “Shining Bright” technique. There’s also definitely something going on with his downed pose — whether he’s just a dramatic person or it has bigger implications is up to the player. Even in a vacuum, I really love his expressive body language! (But also he definitely has the kind of delusional self-confidence I’d assume a higher Path being to have.)

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ જ⁀➴ thanks for reading to the end!

(template 1 from @/Mhuyo on twt, template 2 from @/dohwoodz on twt)

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© analysis by sunderingstars. do not copy, repost, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 | ii

the lowdown — the one where you make neteyam's heart skip a beat.

the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 687

the tags & warnings — no warnings or specific tags! just neteyam being emotionally constipated (the usual).

the notes — another thtbu drabble! i think this one fits well as a prequel perhaps? this is one of the first times neteyam starts seeing you in a different light hehe.

part one | masterlist | main fic

You’re mixing the finely pounded dust of healing rose seedlings into a jar of syrupy liquid when you scent him. A moment later, he’s poking his head through the lowered flap of your tent sheepishly.

“Neteyam, hi,” you greet shyly. “How can I help you?” 

When he fully enters the tent, your eyes widen, glazing over each injury notched into his muscular body. You’re on your feet in the blink of an eye, circling his form to assess the damage. His throat bobs as he stands, frozen, unable to meet your worried gaze. 

He hisses when your fingers plant gently on his shoulder, the other hand softly thumbing a particularly jagged wound sliced between his shoulder blades. 

“What happened to you?” you whisper, rounding his rigid stance to stand before him. 

His eyes map your face as you touch his jaw, moving his head from side to side in search of any more damage. 

He doesn’t answer, too immersed in wondering how your features can be so sharp yet gentle and soft. Wondering when your round eyes, framed by thick lashes, had started gleaming like a nebula. He’s only seen you in passing these past few weeks, but recently there’s been talk. Talk of the shy healer who’s beginning to grow into herself, and maybe there’s something new, different, that radiates off of you. But as he gauges every freckle littered across your cheeks, the plump of your bottom lip, he only finds the same little wallflower he’d grown up with.

“Neteyam?” you try again, brushing over a lesion on his chest. 

“I was on look out for Dad with Lo’ak,” he finally says, voice scratchy. “You know how Lo’ak is…” 

Your lip purses microscopically and Neteyam’s mouth twitches up at the furrow in your brow bone. 

He’s almost certain you whisper something along the lines of shithead underneath your breath when you guide him to sit on the mat mirroring your own. 

There’s a line of little containers already set as he lowers himself, one long leg tucked under the other as he gives you his back to face the entrance of the tent. 

His shoulders tense when you start big, slathering something gooey over the laceration that stings the most. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, breath fanning across his skin. 

He shivers, golden eyes wandering around the tent in search of a distraction. Anything that will take his mind off the fact that your small hands are on him right now. Despite you tending to him intermittently for nearly six years, something different has clung to the air his past few visits and it makes him thoroughly unsettled. 

“Still okay?” you ask softly, touch gliding over his injuries like a kiss. 

He chokes on his words the first time around, but manages a croaky, “Yeah.” 

“Good, can you turn so I can work on your front, please?” you say and he nearly melts. 

He turns wordlessly, infinitely more rigid now that he faces you. 

His heart jerks when you lean in closely and he can smell the herbs in your hair. 

Your pointer finger swipes through the mixture and traces the seam of wounded flesh on his stomach, earning a breath that makes his diaphragm cave. 

You are so close and Neteyam’s nervous. He doesn’t know why, it’s only you. Gentle, quiet, and reserved you. The girl who always got left behind, who smelled flowers for fun instead of hunting with the others, who spoke to Ewya like she was your dearest friend. It’s just you.

You’re about to tend to the cut on his chest, but he stops you with a shaky hand, pulling the little jar of salve from you grasp. You’ll feel the hammering of his heart against his brittle ribcage, he knows it. 

“I can do the rest,” he says quickly, flashing you an uneasy smile. “I’ll bring this back.” 

You blink up at him as he climbs to his feet and he feels absolutely weak. 

“But—“ 

“Thank you,” he rushes. 

He doesn’t see the way your face falls as he excuses himself, leaving you by the crackling of the tent’s dying fire. 

neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul

[wandafiction]

Frozen Peas - Just Us Chapter 19

Warnings 18+: Angst, Small Description of Injury, Smut, Strap On (Wanda Receiving), Oral, Praise.

Word Count: 3084

Series List | Chapter 18 | Chapter 20

================================

I knock on Wanda's apartment door with the toes of my right shoe, my left hand occupied with carrying 3 tubs of ice cream. I can no longer feel my arm. My right hand is stuffed into my pants pockets to hide the nice new bruise that is covering my thumb and half my hand. My black eye is now just a small green mark, a nice faded bruise, which is barely noticeable. 

The door creaks open and the first thing I see is Wanda's face, a huge welcoming smile plastered on her face. She moves out the way to allow me inside and takes the tubs of ice cream, moving into the kitchen to put it into the freezer.

"While you're in the freezer, do you maybe have an ice pack or like frozen peas at all?" I ask Wanda timidly as I make my way to the kitchen counter. 

"Uh, yeah I do. Why?" Her head pops up from behind the counter from where she was bent down in the freezer draw.

I slowly pull my bruised hand out of my pocket, placing it gently on the counter, getting some relief from the cold counter against the pain in my hand. 

'Maybe some painkillers and a first aid kit also?" I give her a timid smile as her eyebrows almost touch in worry as they furrow. 

"What happened this time?" She bends back down to the freezer draw, reappearing quickly with a bag of peas.

Wanda wraps it in a kitchen towel to make sure the hard cold of the peas can't damage my hand further, gently placing it on the affected area. I let out a small sigh at the instant relief the cold brings, I lean my other arm on the counter curling it so my left hand can hold the peas in place. I place my head in the bend of my left elbow hiding my face from Wanda, embarrassed about the whole situation. I mumble into my arm, knowing for a fact Wanda won't hear me. 

Before I know it there is a gentle touch on my face, that causes a shiver to go down my spine, her hand resting ever so lightly on my cheek. She gently tugs my head out of my arm, a kind smile on her face. I lean into her touch, turning my head to plant a small kiss on Wanda's palm. I see movement out of the corner of my eye and wince slightly when I feel the peas being removed and placing her free hand on top of my. She turns our hands so hers is resting on the counter and the back of mine is resting in her palm, as she assesses the damage I've done. 

"What happened?" It comes across caring but stern, like she is scolding one of her children. I shrug my shoulders dismissively. "I can't help you y/n if you don't tell me what happened."

I let out a huff as I look up at her, my eyes meeting hers, I know I have a thousand emotions swirling around mine but the only one I can see in Wanda's is pure concern. She cares. 

"I dislocated my thumb, but it's okay because I just popped it back in place straight after." Wanda's eyes widen slightly as she looks back down at my hand stroking my thumb gently but keeping away from the knuckle.

"Follow me." She doesn't let go of my hand as she makes her way to my side of the counter dragging me down the hallway. She opens the door on the left, gently pulling me into the room. 

I look around the room taking it all in quietly. I don't even notice Wanda let go of my hand and disappear into another room as I look around. There are a few chest of drawers with family photos and jewellery decorating them, a smile at the extensive ring collection. I follow the room around to the right where there is a large king size bed, with plain white sheets and covers but there is a large folded red blanket at the edge of the bed. Next to the bed are two bedside tables, on one of them is a picture of Wanda and the twins but they are babies in this picture. I also notice that Wanda has brunette hair and looked to be going through an emo faze. Hot. 

"Sit." I turn to see Wanda pointing to the edge of the bed with a first aid box in her hand. 

I followed her instructions, placing myself gently on the bed trying not to disturb the neatness of it. She makes her way in front of me bending down so she is kneeling on the floor. Wanda places the first aid box on the bed to my right, opening it up and grabbing some things out of it. I'm not really concentrating on what she is doing but more on her. I watch as she sticks her tongue out slightly in concentration when she starts to rub some form of cream on my hand so gently I hardly feel it. I watch the way her lips move as she speaks to me telling me everything she is doing, not that I'm really listening too lost in just watching her. 

I watch as her eyes flick from my hand up to my face to already seeing me staring at her which causes a shy smile and a small blush to grow on her face. I smile back at her as both our eyes search each others. Her eyes flick to my lips as she sits up slightly leaving small pecks on my lips before sitting back down and getting back to her task. I wince slightly when she takes her hand in mine, a small sorry leaving her lips as she slowly starts to bandage my thumb to give it some support. Once she has finished wanda brings my hand to her lips leaving a kiss on each of my knuckles and a couple on my now bandaged thumb. 

"Thank you." I mumble out bowing my head, now embarrassed that she had to take to caring for me. Even if it was just to bandage my thumb.

"How did you dislocate it?" She moves the first aid box of the bed placing it on the floor as she moves to sit next to me wrapping her arm around my body pulling me closer to her.

"I, uh, I hit my steering wheel a little too hard." I lean my head on her shoulder to hide my embarrassment.

"A little too hard? More like repeatedly." I let out a small laugh nodding into her shoulder. "Can I ask why?" 

"Just went to see family and one of them brought something up that I thought I had buried and it brought up some stuff." 

"You have a lot of pent up emotion. The black eye and now this." 

"Therapy helps." I blurt out, and then hide myself against her, now even more embarrassed she knows I have to go to therapy.

"Therapy is nothing to be embarrassed about, because that would mean I would have to be embarrassed too." I move my head to look up at her from her shoulder and to see the understanding look on her face.

"I guess we can be embarrassed together then." She pulls me closer to her laughing as I let out a small giggle.

"Embarrassed together." Her laughing stops as she looks down to me. "Why are you embarrassed?" 

"Therapy isn't something people want to talk about, I guess. I mean I think the exact words are 'mentally ill people are a lot harder to be with than those who are not, and you just need to get a grip'. Or something like that, I don't really remember what she said." I shrug not thinking much of it, I heard that saying nearly everyday so much I believed it and still do because it's true.

"Who the fuck told you that?!" Wanda's abruptness makes me jump slightly, not expecting it. 

"My ex-girlfriend. I mean she was right, she left after all. When I told her everything because my therapist told me it would be good for us."

"Well your ex girlfriend sounds like a fucking bitch for leaving you, you were vulnerable and she seemed to care more about herself then you and that is wrong. She should have been there for you." 

"You'd run away if you knew." Wanda sits up causing me to remove myself from her side sitting up straighter, now I look down to her.

"I won't." She cups my cheeks as her eyes bore into mine, it feels like she is looking into my soul.

"I'm not ready." I bow my head not wanting to see her disappointed look. Instead I feel her hand under my chin lifting my head so I can see her. I don't see anger or hurt, not even pity which is the worst look. I hate being pitied. She has a look of understanding. 

"Then I will be here when you are." I bite my lip trying to hide my emotion as I look up to the ceiling, my leg bouncing slightly as I keep it all in. "I care about you y/n. So much. In this short time we have known each other, 8 days to be precise, I have found myself to care so much. It's kind of scary actually how much I am falling for you dorogoy and I just...I…" I cut Wanda off with a kiss. 

"I will be there to catch you, if you allow me because I care about you too and I'm falling fast and freely so I will catch you if you are willing to catch me." I take in a deep breath and hold it in, waiting for her answer.

"I will catch you too." She smashes her lips against mine and moves to straddle my hips, so I shuffle back slightly so she won't fall off the bed.

I wrap my arms around her waist pulling her closer to me as our lips dance together. I move my kisses down her jaw to the top of her neck where I start nipping at her skin earning a gasp from Wanda. Her hands move to grip the baby hairs at the back of my head. Her grip is tight as she starts to grind her hips against mine. I move down her neck finding her pulse point, biting on it harder than normal to see her reaction. A filthy moan leaves her lips as I soothe the area with my tongue before biting down on it, her hips rut against mine. I lick up her neck to just below her ear, where I place my mouth over her lobe breathing hot air into her ear which causes her to pull my head closer to her. 

"What do you want, baby girl?" I drag my teeth across her ear as my hands move under her top and move from her waist up to her breast where I find her without a bra. "Tut, tut princess. No bra. Is this what you wanted? For me to see you with no bra, see your hard nipples standing tall below your top so I would fuck you. You want me to fuck you princess?" 

Wanda moans into my ear as I start massaging her breasts one in each hand flicking her nipples with my thumb and finger. I move my kisses back to her jaw gently leaving playful bites along it before I bring my face in front of hers, watching the pleasure on her face grow. Wanda's eyes are closed, her lip between her teeth as she continues to grind against me. She pushes her hips down into mine, and she stops suddenly, her eyes fly open as she looks at me then down to my crotch then back up to me. 

"Is that what I think it is?" Excitement grows in her eyes as her hands start undoing my belt buckle and the few buttons on my pants. 

"Someone's excited to see that I'm packing." She manages to undo my pants, and I lift my hips so she can pull them off and they pool at my feet. She palms the strap on through my underwear, her mouth watering at the sight of it. "Go ahead baby girl."

She rushes to pull my underwear off, her eyes bulging at the site of the strap on I'm wearing. What she does next surprises me slightly as she slips off my hips placing her knees on the floor, as she brings her face closer to the strap on. She looks up at me for permission, cute.

"Go ahead baby girl." With that she wraps her mouth around it, taking it inch by inch, until it hits the back of her throat and she gags slightly. She starts to bob her head up and down, looking up at me as she does so. I lean back onto my elbows so I can enjoy the site below me. "As much as I'm enjoying this view, why don't you be a good girl and climb up and sit on my lap."

Wanda's eyes light up at the thought and she scrambles to stand up taking off her pants and underwear in one and climbs up into my lap. She lines her already dripping entrance up with the strap on, I move my hand to cup her core, coating my fingers in her wetness. She moans as I rub her up and down, using her wetness to lube up the toy. I use my hand to rest gently on her waist, slowly pulling her down to let her know she can push herself down. I let her sink onto the strap at her own pace, as she takes it in inch by inch. Once her hips are flushed with mine a small whine leaves her lips, as I shuffle to move to sit up more so I can wrap my arms around her. 

"You're so big." Wanda states as she starts moving her hips up and down a small moan leaving her lips each time she sinks back down. My eyes widen slightly as I look down to where the strap is in Wanda.

"Baby girl, this is average. I believe it's 7 inches. I didn't think you would want to start with anything bigger." Her eyes flutter open as she continues to move looking at me with a slightly confused look, letting out a small oh.

Her hips start moving up and down quicker, her pace and movements becoming erratic, her moans filling the room as her eyes slam shut again when the strap on rubs against a pleasurable spot. I move my hands to hold her hips and push her down so her hips are flush against mine and I push up into her.

"Oh my god!" Her arms come to wrap around my neck her head falling to my shoulders as I keep pumping into her.

"You're taking me so well baby girl. You look beautiful riding me like this. You're so fucking sexy." Wanda let's out another moan as I loosen my grip on her hips so she can start meeting my thrusts. I can tell she is getting close as it is getting harder to move into her. "You going to cum for me baby girl?"

"Please." I smile as she moans into my neck as I let my hand move down so my finger can rub at her clit. 

"Be a good girl and cum for me." As soon as the words left my mouth her whole body tenses her legs squeezing against mine, her nails digging into the back of my neck and I know for a fact she will have left marks. The moan that leaves her mouth is absolutely filthy and I love it, so I bite her shoulder lightly as I help her through her orgasm. 

After Wanda has calmed down she lifts her hips slightly so I can pull out of her, a small whine leaving her lips at the empty feeling. I undo the strap and chuck it onto the floor, I will sort that out later, Wanda settles back into my lap, her hips grinding against mine slightly still calming down. I rub my hands up and down her back to help calm her down as her hot breath travels down my neck and I can hear a hum leave her lips. 

"Holy shit." Is the first thing that leaves her lips and it makes me laugh. She moves her head from my neck to look at me. "You felt so good." 

A smile at her leaving a few pecks on her lips. "And you looked so sexy riding me like that princess." A small groan and laugh leaves Wanda's lips as she buries her head back into the crook of my neck leaving a few wet kisses along it. 

"I need a shower." I bring Wanda's face out of my neck, one hand on her waist one hand cupping her cheek as she leans into the touch.

"Why don't you go have a shower, and I will get the stuff ready for food." 

"You're my guest, you shouldn't have to do anything apart from sitting down and relaxing." 

"So you call me fucking you with my strap on relaxing?" She places her hands on my cheeks, smashing my cheeks together. 

"Shut up." She laughs out. "Right, I will be quick I promise." 

"Take your time princess. There's no rush we have all night." 

"We do indeed." 

Wanda climbs off of my lap, turning around and my eyes drop to her bare butt. It's a cute butt. She takes some clothes from her draws and grabs her towel from the back of the door. She looks back at me when she enters her ensuite, which I only now realise she has, sending me a cheeky wink and taking her bottom lip between her lips. Oh so she likes to tease.

"I will be in the kitchen princess when you're done." 

"Okay dorogoy. I won't be long." 

Wanda closes the door behind her, and I hear the shower start running. I let my back hit the bed as I let out a happy sigh, and a small squeal. 

She likes me too!.

================================

[i-am-minty-fresh]

To cope with the fact that I think Oda’s gonna kill Usopp, I will instead write it to, hopefully, lessen the blow. (Also happy birthday @certain-arcade-dinosaur!!!)

It’s all smoke and ash by the time the strawhats start meeting up again. The moments after war is never quite the time to celebrate, and that’s what this was…a war.

Enemies and Allies turn to piles of scorched flesh unless properly found, marked, and buried.

Luffy’s tired and after nearly 20 years of a good fight, now resting on the back of his helmsmen he should sleep quite soundly, but something keeps him fighting against the quiet of sleep.

They can’t find Usopp.

Granted they are without Robin’s Devil fruit, Zoro/Sanji’s observation Haki, and Luffy’s gravitational pull towards his nakama. The fight has left them all barely able to stand but, like always, the Strawhats have a hard time staying down even when it best suits them.

It ends up being Nami who finds him. Chopper follows the sound of Nami screaming to press a hoof to Usopp’s pulse and assure her that he is in fact alive. You wouldn’t guess that by the way that he looks.

Coated in blood, he looks sticky and uncomfortable. His face is clenched making his black eye look worse by comparison. Beside him lays the ever reliable Kabuto, matching the stubborn right to life its owner seems to have. He’s alive, but it’s bad.

By the time the rest of the crew gets to him he’s shaking, as thick tears fall down his face all while muttering something to Nami that makes her shake as well. Luffy worms his way to the ground from Jinbei’s back, and limps to his snipers side.

“Usopp! Usopp you did such a good job, I saw you taking on that guy with the big hat and it was so cool!” The pirate king places a hand on Usopp’s check so that they can meet eye to eye, “You had so many cool plants and explosions and I’m sorry I didn’t get to watch it all but you can tell me about it later, right?” There’s a waver to his voice making him sound much younger, a sound almost never heard before (dead brothers seem to draw something out of him).

Luffy looks over at Chopper, aided by Robin, who’s assessing the damage. The poor boy can barely keep himself up straight after the long fight, but something besides fatigue gets to him first causing him to collapse into Robin’s arms. He looks back at Usopp, “right?” This time it sounds even more desperate.

The crew erupts into arguments as everyone attempts to piece together what Chopper’s reaction might mean.

“We should take him back to the ship”

“If he’s really as hurt as chopper-bro is suggesting than movin’ him might not be a good idea”

“If his injuries surpass medical attention, bringing him to the Sunny might bring him comfort at the end-“

“What the hell, Boss?! You’re talking like he’s already dead! We don’t know that! We’ll find that Torao bastard fix whatever wrong! Until then, I’m with the mosshead, moving him to the Sunny has a better chance to stabilize him”

“If he’s too weak, which I think is what our young doctor is suggesting, calling Torao to our location might give him a better chance of success. I’ll see if I can locate him with my fruit-”

“luffy…”

All heads turn to Usopp, while Luffy’s foggy gaze clears up to meet his best friends eyes.

“luffy…”

His voice is scratchy, like he’s been screaming all day, and his hand shakes as it moves towards and onto of the hand against his cheek.

“luffy…”

It sounds like a prayer.

“luffy…was I a brave warrior of the sea?”

The crew’s eyes start to water, some of them looking away from the intimate moment to sob into the next closest cremate while others shake with their heads close to their chests. Nami and Sanji wail.

“Usopp-you-yes! You’ve always been so brave and I’m so happy we found you so you could have gone on all the adventures you told Kaya about and Yasopp was here too, I bet he saw how cool you were but my sniper has always been the coolest-“

“luffy…do you think I’ll see Merry?”

Zoro’s face sours as thick tears fall down his face.

“Cause…you know…she always-ways deserved a br-brave warrior to sail as her captain and you were too-o busy being king of the pi-rates-s” A bloody, shaky smile forms, “but n-n-now I can be th-tha-t for her! We’ll…find Gol. D. Rogers other treas-treasure now that this-this one has be-been found…thi-is time you…can-can be the sni-sniper, luffy! Don’t w-worry, I’ll teach you ever-every-everything I know!”

He looks over to the rest of his crew family.

“We’ll…mix it up thi-this time! Z-Zoro can navigate. Maybe we’ll-we’ll find a whole other b-blue! We’ll ca-call it the s-sword blue!”

The swordsman in question chuckles quietly. Tears still falling.

“Nami can be the-the helmsman…th-they are basic-basically the same job an-anyway”

Nami, who’s been holding his hand since she got to him, squeezes it playfully, “I outta charge you just for thinking that”

“But you won’t” He squeezes back.

She smiles fondly, “I won’t”

“Jinbei c-c-can be th-the historian…he’s old enough to ha-have lived th-through most of it anyway-“ a sharp cough cuts him off. The jostling of his injuries leaves him wincing as he settles.

“Rest, dear, help will be here shortly”

“Oh and Robin, you ca-can be the shipwright! All th-those hands you c-cou-could fix or b-build any-anything in no t-time!”

“What am I then, chopped liver?”

“Exactly! You can b-be the cook! All those mod-modif-mod-modifications you’ve got m-means you can be your o-own kitchen!“

Franky puts his big hand on Usopp’s calf, “on the go eatin’…that’s the way to live, brother”

“Don’t wor-worry, Sanji you’ll b-“ another harsh cough, this time followed by some awful wheezing.

“Usopp you have to rest, it’s not good for all your injuries” Chopper has finally calmed down enough to put one of his hooves onto the dying man’s chest. “Just wait till Torao arrives, okay?”

The hand, once covering Luffy’s own, travels towards the doctor, who moves a little closer so that Usopp doesn’t aggravate any injuries. A hand scarred with a harsh learning curve, and roughened by experience tucks itself so gently under the reindeer chin to lightly scratch at the soft fur there.

“Okay doc, you always…know what’s best…” his stuttering leaves just as quickly as his remaining energy. His body relaxes causing the hand under Chopper’s chin to fall into his lap. His eyes close.

“usopp…”

He did it. He completed his dream. He’s a brave warrior of the sea.

“usopp…”

He’s so thankful to have his crew with him. With Luffy as king, the rest of their dreams are finally in sight.

“usopp…”

He could see them all behind his eyelids. A map of the world covering the walls and floor of a house littered with tangerine trees. A bookshelf with skull and car detailing, that’s full of previously restricted history. A well-loved tome of healing whose cover is a pirate flag. A restaurant floats a top a clear blue sea, that glistens under the sun. A treaty from fishman island to the world government signed by a pink-haired admiral. Two swordsman beaten and bruised, while only one stands proud…smiling just like he used to. A whale chirping along to a conch shelf and an old friend.

“usopp…”

He wishes he could see Vivi again. He wishes he could see them all again. Vagapunk, the samurai of Wano, Leo and the Tontatto pirates, the G-5 marines, Hercules, the rolling pirates, The Franky Family, Mekao, Conis and her wacky father, Mont Blanc Cricket and the Saruyama Alliance, Laboon, the Usopp pirates, Kaya…

“usopp…”

A ring, carved by hand, sits on his desk in the Usopp factory…now left to collect dust. He hopes they’ll give it to her anyway. He’ll always love her, just like how he’ll always love them.

“usopp…”

Jinbei, Brook, Franky, Robin, Chopper, Sanji, Nami, Zoro, Luffy…

“usopp…”

Thank you for loving me