#i just have a soft spot for mages

[kayspaceprinceart]

Chapter 3 is where I really started getting into support convos! And ditching Kellam, lol (his gimmick annoys me and I’m not fond of armor units) (also Sully and Miriel’s C support is so neurodivergent. We stan 2 queens)

Also

It’s hilarious when the mission is to reduce a unit’s hp to 0 but bc of plot, they’re fine. Shinon is my favorite example.

[softersinned-arc]

@surena said: ❝ i have always wanted my own song. ❞ ( hello there!! )

A lazy afternoon in the sun—it's a rarity now, but they all desperately need the rest and the chance to recover, and what else is there to do while they wait? They're all in desperate need of rest, carrying the sort of wounds that can't be healed with a bit of magic, and a few hours' recovery won't do much in the grand scheme of things except allow them to be better tomorrow.

Still, she's nervous, as if any of them could do much of anything right now. They've found one of the few clearings in the Brecilian Forest, and Astoria wasted in time in lowering herself into the grass and spreading her arms wide, face turned towards the setting sun. Not far from them, Leliana is humming and quite meticulously plucking the twigs and leaves from where they've tangled into Alistair's hair as he sits in front of her, legs crossed beneath him, eyes closed, swaying precariously as if to suggest that he's a moment away from falling asleep.

None of them talk about Danyla. None of them give themselves permission to think of her, or how she must have suffered, the agony of the curse as it transformed her. In fact, Astoria is so devoted to not thinking about her that she has her hands folded over her chest, pressed to her heart, as if she can put pressure on the empty ache there and keep it from hurting, and Danyla's last gasping words play through her mind like a repeated prayer.

Elowen's presence beside her, comfortable in the grass and the sun, is a balm to her wounded heart; her voice is a relief. (At least she's not alone. She can't say much for the Blight, but she can say this much: she's so grateful she's not alone.) Astoria opens her eyes and turns her face towards the sound, lips curling up in a smile; she can pick out the familiar profile only barely through the thick grass around them, but she can see enough to make out her expression.

"I'm sure she'll write one about you by the time we're finished, Warden," Astoria says softly, and she lets out a gentle laugh. Leliana is singing, now, the sound quiet but still audible among the gentle wind and the movement of the leaves and the trickle of water. For all its haunting, the Brecilian Forest is beautiful. "Children will be singing of the great hero Elowen Surana. The Avvar sing," she adds, rather suddenly, moved to speak of her own family in a way she rarely is. (There's that ache in her chest again.) "It's how we pass our histories to one another, and the stories of our gods." And her smile widens, and she reaches to her side, catches Elowen's fingers in her own to give them a quick, comforting squeeze.

"When I go back to my Hold, I'll teach them to sing about you, too."

[kusakiguzen]

Yandere One Piece x Neglected Reader

A/N: This is a Yandere Red Hair crew x Reader. No there is no romance with the crew since this is a platonic yandere story.The Theory of Shanks being a villain was in my head when i wrote this. Annd WATCH ONE PIECE FILM: RED, before readind this.

Enjoyyy!!!

Imagine you are Shanks' biological daughter/child and is also a Mage, but he favors Uta more and isn't afraid to show it. Uta was top priority no matter what, from getting gifts to your fathers love, you only got the leftovers. You can sing? Uta can do much better, You dance? Uta dances like a pro. You can play instruments? Ha... Uta can do it with her eyes closed. That's how your life has been, secondary to Uta. You gave up anything related to music even though you love it with your whole heart. You started studying medicine under Benn. But you forgot you were a special child......... A Mage.

You lost control once, destroying almost a whole town. What did Shanks do? Nothing... At the age of 7, you had a bounty on your head. But when Uta destroyed a town at 6, He took the blame so she can have a normal life... Why can't you have the same treatment? You confronted him and what did he do, he dismissed you like always. After she left you finally thought they no He would acknowledge you. But how wrong you were. You had enough and that was the last time you called Shanks "Dad". You saw Benn as more of a father figure than your own father, everyone still doted on Uta. Having pics and videos of he but none of you....

You grew up just fine. But one day everything changed, Portegus D Ace, or Fire fist Ace had came to the island where you and Shanks's crew were staying. Why? To thank Shanks for saving his little brother Luffy. You and Ace instantly clicked for some reason even though you both have nothing in common, but Ace was funny and made you feel safe and mattered. You made your decision to leave with him, you packed a few essentials and wrote a letter to everyone instead of saying it to their face that you were leaving. In your small bag you kept you medicinal journals, first aid kit, few pairs of cloths and underwears. Your sword on your waist with the staff that you brought and modified to your liking.

Your adventures with Ace were amazing, you both fell for each other, confessed in the stary night. About 2 months later he proposed, you obviously said yes. You met Whitebeard and his crew, they accepted you as their own. You wedding was held on the ship where Whitebeard literally held you like thumblina due to the size difference. After your wedding, Thatch was hurt badly but with your help, he was able to make a full recovory. Ace was adament on going after Teach, and you wanted to accompany him. He refused saying it was too dangerous, but you were firm so he didn't exactly have a choice.

You guys left together, and even met his little brother Luffy in Alabasta. The fight with Teach caused both of you to be captured, and in line for the execution. Ace was worried, not about him, but about you. How could he have put you in danger when he was supposed to protect you? He should have knocked you out before leaving. Now you suffer with him..

Luffy and others came to help, but...... Ace died..... You tried to heal him but due to the malnourishment and lack of mana, you couldn't. You held him close crying, begging the God above, just once, just this once allow you to defy reality. But your begging was left unanswered..... You didn't move from the spot and awaited your death by the hand of the Admiral but Koby steped in front of you, your soft voice telling him its okay and he could move but he didn't, he couldn't.

Shanks arrived to your utter surprise, saved Koby and you. He looked at you expecting a reaction but you were too busy mourning the death of your husband. Benn was the one who was finally able to calm you down, and make you stop hugging Ace since they need to Burry him. You let go.... You had to. The Red Hair pirates took you to their ship, Red Force, and in your old room. They laid you there since you had gone numb, they closed the door on their way out, telling you to call them if you need anything.

The only thing that was going through your mind was, to burn that goddamn place down, the place that took away your Husband, Love, and Your Will to Live. After Luffy's anouncement, you did exactly that, Burned that shit to the ground. The Red Hair crew were finally treating you better and soon enough you let your guard down. But all good things come to an end don't they?

Shanks had brought a girl, who looked like she was about 16-17 years old, and severely malnourished. He told everyone how this girl, who introduced herself as Rina, was sold at a brothel and he had to do some thing, so he bought her and decided to adopt her as his daughter. You thought nothing would change, but she stared showing her true colours (atleast Uta didn't try to take something which was yours, so she was tolerable). She started making comments about your stuff and how she would love to have things like that, in front of everyone, so they (the crew) would ask you to give it to her. If you refused, she would play the victim until you gave in.

She crossed a line one day by asking you to give her your ring.... Your WEDDING RING. You bluntly refused, she played the victim again, but this time you Refused to the whole crew. Saying she won't be getting this ring. When guilt tripping didn't work, they tried to coax you. You told them to cut the bullshit and this ring will stay with you forever. Shanks got mad and told you to give the ring to Rina since its just a ring and he can buy you another one. You shouted at him telling him to by Rina the new ring, instead of you. This turned into a shouting match and Shanks tried to intimidate you by using his conqueror's haki, but he forgot you also learnt it and from him.

Finally you said that if He could answer 3 of the questions you ask him, correctly, Rina can have your ring. The 3 questions were "When was your birthday?" " What your age was?" and last " What was your marital status?" He repiled, "1st October" , " 18 years old" and "Single". He was so confident that he asked for the rings. But you started laughing hysterically to the point tears were forming in your eyes, this caused everyone to be confused. Why are you laughing? You told him that all 3 questions were wrong and You weren't Uta, since it her information he gave you. He was about to argue but you told him Your birthday was on (your birthdate), you were 20 years old and now a widow. Your eyes were cold and numb, without a spark. A broken 'What' came out of thew whole crews mouth. You gave them the fakest smile and then went to your room, leaving everyone to process the information. Okay they may have gotten your birthdate and age wrong, but you were a Widow?

When they finally processed everything and wanted answers they saw you, with a bag on your shoulder and going to get a small boat. They asked you where you were going. And you replied, "where I won't see your face." Just as you wee about to get in the boat you heard gunshots. Yassop had shot the boat.....Bitch . You looked unfazed and just used a levitating spell, over the year, you had goten good at controling your mana, so it wasn't a problem for you to cast precise spells anymore. Just as you wee about to take off, Shanks grabbed your wrist and threw you on the floor ( having no choice) and asked you, who your husband was. Looking directly in his Eyes, you said a name that made their blood run cold... Portgas D. Ace. The man who died in your arms.... was your Husband. It made sense, it made so much sense about why you weren't letting go of him when they wanted to burry his body.

You Suffered So much ALONE.

Just as Rina opened her mouth again, about the ring. Benn shot her while Shanks beheaded her. The blood splattered everywhere, even on you face. The cold look in Shanks eyes when he looked at the dead body, TERRIFIED you. You screamed causing shanks to look at you. He cooed at you while wiping the blood from your face and picking you up, like a baby. Whispering and cooing about how sorry he was to have done this to you. And how he will make it better. He was looking at you like you were 5. You on the other hand were frozen in fear.

Your flight or fright reflex activated and you kicked him and in the split second of surprise, where he loosened his grip. You flew, faster then ever before. You had to get away. What if you were next who would die by his hands. When you were high enough, You scremed telling him not to look for you. And then Teleported, you forgot you could do that due to the overwhelming fear because YOU KNEW what he was capable of...

But Shanks couldn't do that. You were His Daughter, His little girl. You would be in danger out there in the New World without him. You Said you Joined Luffy, didn't you?

I guess Shanks will have to pay him a visit.

Soon....

Stay Safe, Healthy and Hydrated ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[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!

[littlejuicebox]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: The first winter post-BG3 / You became Astarion's consort and you're at a ball... he likes to toy with you. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Spoilers for the game / Cursing / Improper use of mage hand / BSDM vibes / Dom Astarion vibes / teasing, masturbation, overstimulation, exhibitionism, mentions of flogging, etc. Word Count: 3K Notes: This is 3/5 "Days of Star-mas!"

Click here to see my master list.

-----

Yet another holiday ball, how dreadfully boring.

You sigh as you tug on your dress for the millionth time before a sharp pinch on your rear stuns you into stillness. You let out a soft hum as you feel the warm breath of your lover against your ear, tickling your neck before he playfully nips at your ear lobe.

“Now be a good girl and quit fidgeting, my treasure. I want everyone to see how beautiful and desirable you look in that dress, and your hands keep getting in the way of such a delectable view.” Astarion chides, running his fingers down your bare spine, leaving a tingle of excitement in their absence.

You’re sat, as always, on the Vampire Ascendent’s lap; it’s quickly become a well-known peculiarity of your coupling that your ornate throne beside him hardly sees any use. You wriggle as the elf continues to wander his pale fingers up and down your spinal column. Apart from your neck, your back was Astarion’s favorite part of your body to display. Almost every gown he dressed you in nowadays, as his perfect, beautiful little doll, left that sinewy form around your spine well-exposed.

Tonight, he’d dressed you in another one of his custom, ridiculously expensive and more ridiculously provocative pieces, commissioned by one of Baldur’s Gate’s most revered clothiers.

The gown was a deep burgundy, hand draped to your curves and covered in countless glimmering crystals. A deep sweetheart neckline was barely held up by two dainty, useless straps. The back of the gown left your muscled form on full display; the final bits of your lower spine were partially obscured by a crossed set of laces, tied neatly in a bow and not leaving anything to the imagination as the skirt of the dress clung to your hips.

The Vampire Ascendent had called you the “perfect present” for his Midwinter Ball, and you were expected to play the part of his perfect consort as he presented you to several of the Guilds this party hosted.

Astarion’s hand grazes up your leg, fully exposed to him by the thigh high slit cut into the gown. You writhe as your lover teases you, letting out the softest gasp as his hand just barely brushes under the slit of your gown before traveling back down toward your knee.

“My perfect little present,” He murmurs as the music from the band swells, “Take a turnabout the room for me, little love. Let everyone feast their eyes on your beauty and covet what is mine.”

You knew the Vampire Ascendent always aimed to use you as a status symbol at these silly parties. You were quite the spectacle as the renowned hero of Baldur’s Gate turned into his obedient, and always provocatively dressed, consort. It was such a stark change from the heavily armored warrior woman you had been less than a year ago. The statue in the town square, made to your likeness, truly looked nothing like you anymore. You had been a fearsome, rugged, warrior… always caked in dirt and blood; but now, you were a perfect doll, always pristine and well-kept.

You groan, not really wanting to partake in the charade tonight, but Astarion gives you a little tut, and the sharp warning look on his face was enough to force you out into the crowd. The Vampire Lord may have a soft spot for his consort, but he was not above punishing her, if need be.

You slink off your lover’s lap and saunter about the Great Hall, gold chalice in hand, politely nodding here and there to several of the guild members that meet your gaze. More of them, you notice, are too distracted by the high cut of your gown and the spilling of your cleavage to actually meet your eyes. Typical.

Soon enough your pathway is interrupted by the leader of one of the Mercantile Guilds, a tall blonde human woman with an accent, whose name you’ve all but forgotten. You truly had no interest in the elbow rubbing and political chess matches that occurred at these soirées.

“Lady Ancunin… I was hoping for a moment to speak with you.”

The woman begins to ramble on, promoting her Guild, which currently holds control over majority of the sea trade to and from Baldur’s Gate. She is expressing concern over a smaller, but growing, faction and asking for support from the Ancunin House. You find the entire thing unbelievably boring, and barely stifle a yawn.

Suddenly, you hear Astarion’s voice in your ear, and your attention shoots to the high table where the vampire is lounging in his throne, sipping from a chalice, his scarlet eyes locked on you. It’s clear the lady merchant is none the wiser as she babbles on, and you soon realize the Vampire Lord is communicating to you through your blood bond.

“Now, now, little love. Pay attention and look interested. You know as well as I do that Lady Beauchamp prefers to use you as the middle person in our dealings, hoping your supposed “mutual alignment” as the "fairer sex" works in her favor. Perhaps you require a bit more… stimulation to keep you from looking so terribly bored.”

His voice reverberates through your mind, enveloping your psyche in a lover’s caress that quickly causes you to become slick with desire. You watch Astarion subtly snap his fingers at the high table, and shudder as you feel the cold tracings of a finger along your spine — an invisible mage hand, no doubt. Your eyes widen and flicker from Lady Beauchamp and back to your lover, where he is smirking in twisted delight before he turns away from you to laugh at some comment made by another one of the nobles.

The tall guild leader continues, “So, as you can see, Lady Ancunin… this faction is cause for— are you alright?”

You’re trembling as you attempt to hold some level of control over your reactions. How could he toy with you like this? The invisible mage hand has now trailed underneath your gown and started petting your barren slit with two cold, invisible fingers. Damn Astarion for never allowing you to wear undergarments and compelling you to take them off every time you tried to preserve a modicum of your own dignity.

You cough, trying to cover up the gasp that so desperately wanted to escape your throat. “Y-yes Lady Beauchamp, my apologies, it’s a bit cold in here what with the winter air. Please do continue… w-what is it you’re asking of our House?”

Lady Beauchamp’s eyes flicker over your scant, silken gown and you catch a glimpse of judgement in her eyes; you know she thinks you improperly clothed for the season. But she’s wise enough to hold back any comments and instead continues on with her end of the conversation, pleading her case for aid to you.

You are held as a hostage to your own arousal, thighs trembling as you are held on an edge your lover will not allow you jump off of. You wring your hands on the stem of your goblet, nodding at the merchant woman and trying your hardest to feign interest.

Gods you were dripping. You absently wonder if the signs of your arousal were becoming visible through your gown. Your eyes flit back to Astarion, and his gaze is fixed on you once again, a cocky eyebrow raised as he traces the rim of his goblet with one slender finger. You’re silently pleading with the Vampire Ascendent for mercy with your wide eyes and all he does is chuckle and shake his head, eyes crinkling in dark delight.

No. There would be no mercy. You feel the slickness dripping down your thighs as the mage hand plunges into you and you roll your eyes up to the ceiling as you stifle a moan.

“So… what do you think?” Lady Beauchamp asks, her head tilted in confusion. You realized too late that she’d been waiting for your answer, and that the pause in conversation had become uncomfortable enough for her to prompt you.

You nod your head slightly, barely able to breathe as you form the next sentence. The mage hand was back to stroking between your folds, and as you barely catch the scent of your own arousal, you worry that Lady Beauchamp would soon smell you, too. “I-it is much to consider, but I will plead your case to Lord Ancunin. Now I apologize but if you’ll excuse me, my husband has beckoned for me at the high table.”

Astarion has, of course, done no such thing. But you swiftly exit the conversation with the Guild leader and head back towards the Vampire Ascendent.

When you finally make your way back to your lover, he grabs your trembling hand in his own solid, strong one. He possessively tugs you closer to him, and then the Vampire Lord plants a kiss to your knuckle. He smirks mischievously, eyebrow cocking as he flits his hungry eyes to your groin. The mage hand is still continuing its ministrations and has now started to lazily circle your sensitive little nub.

“I can smell you, my treasure… and see your little trembles as you try so hard to be a good girl and keep it together. Absolutely delicious. What a tempting little treat… look at you, with your cheeks all flushed.” He coos, scarlet eyes moving up to look into yours. When you meet his gaze, you see hints of dark, possessive desire in his eyes... and a bit of sadistic pleasure as he witnesses your suffering.

You moan as the mage hand plunges into you once more, and even though the high table is now barren as everyone else has swarmed to the dance floor, you feel the pricked heat of embarrassment spreading across your face.

Astarion chuckles and drops your hand before running his fingers up your exposed thigh. “I think you’ve been a good little pet tonight. And you will soon get your reward. Go to the bedchambers and wait for me... I’ll send the mage hand with you to keep you company, of course.”

All you can do is nod your head, before turning on your heels and swiftly exiting the ballroom. You nearly sprint to your bedchambers, certain now that the evidence of your arousal is seeping onto the gown. As you enter the bedroom, you move to rip your gown off, but the mage hand swats your hands away from the laces. It seemed the Vampire Lord wanted to be the one to unwrap his little present tonight.

For a moment you consider touching yourself, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you hear Astarion’s tut of disapproval within your psyche.

“Now, now, little vampling. Be a good girl and wait. Before I’m forced to have the mage hand bring out the flog."

You whine in desperation again and hear that dark chuckle within your mind. The mage hand is continuing its ministrations, now aggressively teasing your nipples as you settle yourself on the bed to wait for your lover. Your entire body is wracked with overwhelming desire, every inch of you trembling as the invisible hand continues its torture.

“How long will I have to wait?” You breathlessly ask to the air, but you know that Astarion is always listening. There is a beat of silence where you think perhaps the Vampire Lord is purposely ignoring you, but then he responds, clearly entertained by your little predicament.

“Oh… not much longer, my treasure. Patience is a virtue. I’ll see you at the end of the party.”

The party wasn’t set to end for another hour. You nearly scream in anguish as another dark chuckle caresses your mind. Pinpricks of frustrated tears begin to form as you wiggle with the mixture of anticipation and overstimulation. Gods you wanted to touch yourself so badly; you were wringing your hands together to avoid the temptation.

“Little love… it is up to you if you’re going to be naughty or nice. But you know what I will be forced to do, should you choose to be naughty.”

You whine again. An hour… you could withstand the torture for an hour, couldn’t you? Surely you could choose to be nice.

And hells, if you chose to be naughty… the pain was always worth the pleasure, in the end.

[delulustateofmind]

Potions & Shadows (Part II)

Summary: An old neighbor of Feyre's is revealed to be not who they seemed when Feyre was a child. Leadign to Feyre needing the once village apothecaries help. Inspired by Frieren: Beyond Journey's End.

A/n: This part is more background heavy to build up the plot a bit. Hybern in the books doesn't have a lot to build off of so I'm going to try to make him a greater villain tbh. At least make him a bit more feared. Thank you all for 100 follows btw!

Word Count: 3k

Part One, part two, part three. part four

Warmings: Mini trauma dump on Azriel, mentions of death.

Taglist: @cherry-cin, @sassybluebird, @aehllitas-blog

I shouldn’t enjoy doing this. what the hell is wrong with me

Is what Azriel had thought as he stared at the documents laid out before him in the middle of the night. Rhysand assigned him to look into you the moment you arrived in the night court. Of course, Rhysand trusted his mate that you were a good person. But one could not be too eager about letting someone foreign into the court. Also, it wasn’t like Azriel wasn’t curious about you. In fact, you were currently his muse. As you were easy to find information about, and perhaps in the future would inform you not to leave such an easy paper trail.

The sound of ruffling papers filled the room as he scanned the documents. 

By all means, you were an outstanding citizen. You were top of your class at a prestigious mage academy on a sponsorship a hundred years ago. You kept your mage certification current and renewed it before it expired. Initially, Azriel had thought that your adventurer guild meant you would be a mercenary, however, he was wrong. As he sifted through the quests you took on, he saw that they were for small rewards- helping farmers, rebuilding villages. You paid your taxes on time and your home in Feyre’s village is fully paid for. Mother above, there was no hidden information about you except for an eighty-year period where he couldn’t find a single piece of evidence that you existed anywhere, aside from word of mouth that a young elf lived alone in the woods.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his face. You were too sweet—not even a small fine for failing to pay a toll. There was nothing bad about you, yet here he was, investigating your whole life, feeling like it was more for his own sake than for Rhysand's. A report sat in his hands that he had written about you for Rhysand, perhaps Rhysand would offer you a position in the inner circle. It wasn’t like a court mage would be bad, in fact, mages in Prythian were rare.  A knock pulled him out of his thoughts. He opened the door to reveal Elain standing in the doorway.

“Elain, you should be asleep, it’s the middle of the night,” Azriel spoke lowly as he shifted to lean against the doorway, one of his wings blocking her view of the room behind him. It was a subtle gesture that would go unnoticed by her, as she spoke softly. 

“I couldn’t sleep and I saw your light, so I figured I would come to check on you, you seemed distracted at dinner tonight,” Elain looked nervous as she looked up at Azriel whose eyes softened. Perhaps he was getting a soft spot for mortals. Yet, neither of you was truly mortal. You smelled like one, with a faint scent of blossoms, you seemed fragile like one but your eyes spoke of an immortality of knowledge. Had he been staring for too long into the distance because Elain’s soft voice pulled him away again, “Azriel? I asked if you wanted to walk with me to the gardens?” Azriel brought himself to look at the once mortal in front of him. There was no doubt she was beautiful, becoming fae just heightened those features and the way she looked at him, spoke something. Yet, when he looked at her, he had wished it were you asking him to escort you to the gardens or whatever hell you tasked him to do. 

What in the hells have you done to him, he had just met you yet he felt like something was pulling him to you. 

“I cannot tonight,” Azriel offered a small smile, one that caused Elain to stiffen as she looked away, a gesture that did not go unnoticed, “When I return from the camps tomorrow, I will join you though” he answered softly as she nodded and offered a goodnight before she went back to her quarters. Azriel gently closed the door, his shadows caressing his frame and mentions of sleep in their whispers. Azriel rubbed his eyes before finishing the report and heading to a short slumber. 

**** 

In the morning when Azriel walked out of his quarters strapped in his Illyrian leathers, Cassian was waiting down the hallway, leaning against the wall.

“You hate the camps, is this healer cute or something” Cassian flashed a grin, but his expression changed when he noticed Azriel flash him an annoyed look, “Given her race, I don’t want her to have trouble at the camps. If those potions break, we will be behind schedule for the war. It has nothing to do with how ‘cute’ she is” Azriel mentioned with a smile tugging his lips as he gave Cassian a gentle nudge with his wing as he made his way past to head out for the day. 

Cassian nodded a small smile still on his face, though Azirel sensed that his brother wasn’t waiting for him this morning. Cassian’s eyes flicked towards the eldest Archeron sister’s room, perhaps Cassian was waiting for a meeting with a viper. 

****

Meanwhile, at the healer’s cottage, you were carefully packing potions and elixirs into crates. With your staff in hand, you guided various bottles to float gently into three crates, the soft clinks of glass filling the room. As you worked, Madja entered.

“One of the members of the court is going to escort you. These Illyrians can be… unwelcoming to folk like yourself. Better safe than sorry kid,” she said, her tone awkward. She avoided meeting your gaze, but you understood her concern. You knew you were different and that the Fae in these parts might not be kind to you. Offering Madja a soft smile and a nod, you continued your preparations.

Once the crates were filled and securely clasped shut, you used your magic to float them into the main room of the cottage. Madja followed quietly as the front door opened, revealing Azriel and his shadows. His wings were tucked in tightly as he entered, his gaze immediately locking onto you and your staff. Your watercolor eyes met his golden ones that hid behind his dark curls that fell just above his eyes as you gently set the crates down and desummoned your staff.

Azriel felt his heart tug when he saw you. His shadows seemed intrigued, attempting to pull away from his grasp and head towards you. Azriel just held onto them tighter, not letting them dare touch you. 

So pretty, pretty little mage, the shadows whispered to him. They spoke of your mixed heritage, and your connection with nature, and reminded him of your humanity. So fragile their whispers ceased when he waved them off. As he looked at you, he did not have a clue what you were thinking as you gazed at the talons on top of his wings. 

“You probably might want to winnow, I fear flying will be a bit difficult. Even with your mage magic y/n,” Madja said, nodding your way. However Azriel was not paying attention as once he finally heard your name, it sung like a prayer in his mind. Finally a name for that pretty face. Azriel picked up the three crates with ease.

“Can you winnow?” He asked, Azriel was unfamiliar with mages as they were quite rare in Prythian, their magic was different than the fae, as mages were limited to spells. You shook your head in response. Azriel simply balanced the three crates in one hand, as he extended his other hand to you. 

“I can winnow us to a point, but it will be a mile or two of walking. Can you handle that?” Azriel stated softly. You seemed so fragile as you placed your small hand into his large one. He had been around full-blood humans in the past and knew how fragile they were. Elves weren’t much different besides their mana making them only somewhat stronger than humans. Azriel wondered where you may lay between the two. 

“I’ll be okay, I’m used to traveling,” offering him a reassuring smile. Within seconds, shadows swirled around you both as you winnowed to the middle of the woods a few miles outside the Illyrian camp. 

You stood a couple feet smaller than him, his shadows whispered, So petite, so fragile. With a wave of your hand, you summoned your staff, a crescent moon on top of with a glittering blue stone hanging from the crest. The magic lifted the crates from his arms as you both walked. A smile tugged Azriel’s lips as he clasped his hands behind his back slowing his pace to match your stride.

Time to fill in the gaps of his knowledge about you. He struck up a conversation, an interrogation of sorts, “How did you become a mage?” Azriel spoke softly, his voice a melody to your ears as you sheepishly glanced back at him. You feared that if you looked at him for too long, you would fall for this deadly presence, for whatever reason every instinct in your body feared him yet a part of you wanted to be closer. A new emotion seemed to fill you with every glance you sent his way. 

You released a sigh as your gaze shifted to the large pine trees that grew along the dirt path, “When I was young, I was saved by a human mage,” Human mages were something that had only occurred in the continent. The continent had a more progressive approach by human and fae standards, allowing humans to practice magic if they had the mana for it. Meanwhile, the human villages in Prythian still feared the presence of magic. 

“Saved?” Azriel echoed as he glanced at you. He knew most of the Elven villages were burned by Hybern centuries ago, by the thousands, Hybern had sought to eradicate most of the elves because of their high amounts of mana, a possible threat to fae kind. Whoever wasn’t killed, he had them as slaves wearing collars that stripped them of their mana. 

“Hybern’s generals still wreak havoc in the continent,” you murmured with your gaze still on the path, “My entire village was slaughtered one night when one of his generals arrived, many of the people in my village were half-breeds like myself, my mentor, the human mage found me that night after the war party had left,” 

Azriel looked at your face, expecting to see a sad expression. Instead, he found a look that was unreadable, devoid of emotion. Not even your eyes revealed your thoughts. 

“I never got your name,” You spoke as your gaze shifted to meet his lingering one, “or what you do for the court.” Azriel looked ahead to the path. They were nearing the camp soon enough. 

“It’s Azriel. My position, however, is a secret,” he said quietly, bringing a finger to his lips. “You can just assume that I do a lot of paperwork. A boring position, really.”

A lie, you thought as you looked into his eyes. From your time as an adventurer, you had learned to read people. One thing you learned was to look into a person’s eyes to discern who they truly were. Azriel’s eyes revealed much more; they showed that he had done many unsavory acts, perhaps with killing being the least brutal. His golden eyes, like a pot of honey, hid a sinister predator behind their warm facade.

One of his shadows moved to twirl around your wrist at his command. You jumped a little at the cool, silk-like touch of the shadow. “We are nearing the camp. I will take the crates to the camp leader. You will stay here by this tree,” Azriel commanded. He was not asking you to stay; he was telling you to. The shadow seemed to serve as either a way for him to track your location or to signal that you were his companion in case any other Illyrians came near. You made a mental note that Illyrians seemed to be territorial or overprotective.

You desummoned your staff as Azriel grabbed the crates and carried them the rest of the way to camp. Sitting down next to a tree, you waited for him. Around half an hour later, you felt a brush of wind against you as Azriel landed. His wings outstretched before tucking in behind him, instilling a sense of awe within you.

“You don’t have fae senses, do you?” he asked quietly. You shook your head as he helped you up from the ground. If you did, you would have sensed him the moment he was within a few feet of you. “Can you detect scents either?” he asked. Another shake of your head. You mentioned that you could detect mana, but only if it was from another mage or a magical creature. Azriel made a note of that, perhaps feeling thankful for your lack of senses. This way, you couldn’t sense how his heart pounded every time you met his gaze.

“Would you like a tour of Velaris?” he asked, “I promise I won’t drop you in flight,” he added with a hint of amusement. You looked at him and then at his wings as he stretched them slightly. A fear still instilled within you.

“I should help Madja with preparations…” you whispered. Azriel listened to your soft voice, noting the fear behind your words. He smiled—a genuine smile that he reserved only for his family. A smile that heightened his beautiful features, causing you to look away. “I promise I will go slow. It won’t be so bad, I assure you,” Azriel said, hearing your heart pounding. You were nervous. Were you scared to be near him?

“Another time,” you responded finally, grabbing his hand without a thought. “For now, can you winnow me back to the healer’s cottage?”

“Of course,” he said. With that, he led you back to the cottage, shadows swirling around you both as you disappeared from the forest and reappeared at the healer’s door. You waved him goodbye as he bowed slightly at the waist, causing a warmth to form on your cheeks when you saw his dark curls fall above his eyes that seemed to pierce you.

“Until next time, y/n,” Azriel spoke softly before he took off into the skies, his wings outstretched as if they were big enough to block the afternoon sun, powerful enough to rustle the trees. Such a powerful creature, you thought as you entered the cottage.

*****

Azriel took off to Rhysand’s office to drop off the report on the new healer. As he arrived, he found Rhysand at his desk, poring over piles of paperwork in preparation for the upcoming High Lords' meeting. Azriel observed the signs of stress on Rhysand—his disheveled hair, evidence of having run his fingers through it one too many times, and the dark circles under his violet eyes.

Rhysand glanced up as Azriel entered the room. “How was the camp?” he mused with a hint of amusement. “And the healer?”

Azriel smirked as he took a seat across from Rhysand, crossing one leg over the other and letting his wings drape behind him. “Camp was decent. Devlon scented her on the bottles and was asking if the humans were slaves again,” Azriel said, rolling his eyes. The healer's intoxicating scent still lingered on him, not that he minded. Rhysand muttered "Illyrian bastards" under his breath as he signed another document.

Azriel continued, “As for the healer, I have my report done. She’s a bit more closed off in person but leaves a paper trail. Overall, a good citizen. Only eighty years after her mage exam is left without any trail of her existence.” Azriel glanced at the document Rhysand was reading—something about budgets. “I have a feeling that was around the time her mentor passed away. Her mentor was human, after all.”

“From the continent then? Do you feel like she’s strong? From what Madja has praised, she’s a damn good healer,” Rhysand said, looking up.

Azriel nodded before continuing, “A first-class mage, one of the six that still remain. I can’t sense any magic or mana on her. I have a feeling she is suppressing it at all times—a skill even most fae can’t master.” Azriel smirked slightly. A damn good mage indeed.

“Your call then, Az,” Rhysand replied. “Is she a threat? Feyre wants her to come to dinner. Perhaps it would make her sisters feel more at ease with someone familiar around. Preferably Nesta,” Rhysand grimaced slightly with his last comment. 

Azriel looked at his scarred hand that once held your soft, dainty one. “Not a threat at all,” he murmured.

[dhampling]

bramble jam girl!dadstarion, <1k

“I thought it’d be nice! Everyone likes jam!” “In what realm would we need this much jam?” - (x reader) christening this most inaugural of dadstarion fridays with the most fang-rottingly sweet fluff i could muster. enjoy! w/c: 700+

He kneels next to her with a pensive furrow, the critical moment; small wooden spoon in hand nudging little closed lips smeared already in a sticky purple. 

Bated breath. 

Astarion taps as her mouth remains closed. She looks at him with the same half-baked incredulous look he gives you - a firm ‘no’, with notes of why would you even ask me to do this, you freak?

“Come on! It’s delicious. Look!”

He lifts the spoon to his own mouth and pokes his tongue just past his lips, darting briefly into the bizarre gloop. 

The resulting wince is priceless. It tastes of nothing to him; of cinders and dead syrup. The wobble of a smile as he aims to convince her that whatever the spoon yields is lovely wrapped in a deeply unsatisfied ‘mmm’. 

Looks at him with genuine disgust. She’s too perceptive. 

Behind his back the kitchen sits a picture of disarray - spattered in bramble pulp and dotted with various wooden stirrers, bubbling cauldron atop the stove, littered granules of sugar now crystalline on both the countertop and your floor. 

“What is this?” You break your cover, his head whipping round to find yours sheepishly.

“I made jam! She won’t eat it.” 

A feeble quirk of his lips. Whoopsie! 

“Why would she eat plain jam?”

“Why wouldn’t she! Yummy jam! Yum!” He speaks in a sing-song lilt, cracking in sleep-deprivation.

“Why have you used all my brambles on said jam?”

The tar-like brew looks awful. Thick and dark, smelling of dark sugar and burnt lemon. He winces once more.

“I thought it’d be nice! Everyone likes jam!”

“In what realm would we need this much jam?”

The shoulders sag and he stands from his kneel, tilting his head to look at her and putting the spoon on the bare table. You fight the instinct to roll your eyes knowing full well he won’t be the one wiping the sticky spot later.

“I don’t know! Jam!”

Hands wide around his head, a tired smile wracked with mirth. Eyes round.

He tried. He really did try. Recipe book pages open on the side now splattered with maroon fruit juice. The air is thick with the smell of sugar. You take a spoon from the silverware drawer and try a little straight from the pan, blowing the purple globule to cool it; and it isn’t bad in the slightest. 

Not particularly good, granted, but he’s neglected the aromatics - you presume because his target audience is just breaching a year old. You clear your throat in preparation for the most saccharine baby voice you can muster.

“Little love! Look!” 

You take the spoon from Astarion and suckle on the cool jam, smiling animatedly and nodding in visible contentment. A joyous ‘mmm’. 

She watches on with genuine awe. Nods along. Her own attempt at a ‘mmm’ sounding more like a kitten mewl. Chubby fingers reaching for your spoon in little bunny bounces until her face looks to be on the verge of crumpling with want.

He watches on in amazed resent, eyes soft. 

“She can tell you don’t like it. That’s why she doesn’t want it.” 

You refill her spoon from the pot and blow over it for a minute or two while he lifts her gently from the ornate baby chair and brings her little form over. 

“That was witchcraft. I’m calling in on the nearest guild of mage-breakers first thing, you know.” He whispers as she burbles and reaches out for your warm hands. You press a small kiss to the high of his cheekbone. 

She grabs messily for the spoon as you bring it to her lips. Opens wide in anticipation of ‘the red dragon’; one of the smallest seeds on top of the gloopy pile christened after Lae’zel with both you and Astarion wailing in mock horror as she eats your long-time friend. Her little laugh is like a singing bell, the messy flicks of her tongue as she relishes the taste and bounces in his arms.

“No. She simply just reveres you. Why would she eat something if she knows you don’t like it? Clearly something of a tastemaker in those little eyes.” You smile at him with a slow blink.

He looks to you and back to her with the warmth of a Kythorn highsun. Rests his head atop yours.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Ok hear me out

Auron accidentally gets hit with a spell by finn and turns him into a cat (fluffy cat) and fem rook just got into his Penthouse ready to make dinner for both of them and calls out for auron only to see a fluffy boy, and immediately pets the cat that is auron and for the hole day *day off* she talks to auron the cat and whn it's dinner time rook looks for food that safe to wat for cats

(Auron is actually loving the attention rook is given him and pets*

Here kitty kitty!

Auron looked down at himself, his...fur was long and soft. Turning his little head up he glared at the mage who stood in his room. Who, was panicking because he didn't mean to do that it was just that Auron surprised him. So, What did the blonde do to fix this? He simply told him it should wear off and left.

Cursing the bastard in his mind, Auron went to the living room to try and figure something out. Only to hear a key unlocking the front door and seeing his partner walk through it. The red furred cat paused trying to think of what to do.

"Auron? I'm here!.....Love?" Worry was in his lovers voice as they slowly stepped into the penthouse. The man, well now cat hid behind the couch listening to their footsteps.

Only to freeze seeing Rook leaning over and spotting him. They gasped I awe seeing the bug fluffy cat behind the couch. Slowly going to the ground they held out their hand.

"Hii, ooohhh the pretty baby! Where'd you come from?" Cooing at him, Rook rubbed their fingers together at him. Auron sighed in his head and slowly went to them, rubbing against their hand.

"Oh my god! Your so gorgeous! Oh the pretty..." Mumbling Rook gently lifted Auron's leg. The red cat felt embarrassed and swatted at their arm. Rook giggled and kissed his head as an apology.

"I'm sorry, baby boy. I had to check real quick!" Gently taking him in their arms Rook scratched him gently. Auron closed his eyes and purred, the vibrations surprising him. This caused Rook to make a happy noise, then leaning down giving him kisses.

"Ooohh the handsome man! Your so fucking cute! I could eat yoouu!" Smiling Rook then looked around pausing. As if remembering why they came to the penthouse in the first place.

"Auron?....hhmm I wonder did he get you for me? If not I'll just steal you from him~" Cooing at Auron's cat form again, Rook started walking into the penthouse more. Auron wanted to speak, only giving Rook meows and little squeaks.

His partner nodded along as if having a conversation with him. Rook checked every room looking for Auron, sighing with every passing room. The red cat felt bad for them, he wished he could speak to them.

"Yeah, text me to come over and not be here. Ugh, he's so weird sometimes." Shaking their head Rook went back to the living room and sat with Auron on the couch. The comment made Auron glare at them a bit, but Rook only giggled and kissed his forehead.

Looking around Rook decided to play with Auron and talk to him. Laying him down on the carpet Rook laid on their stomach. Smiling at Auron as they played with his hair.

"I wonder when he got you? Hhmm, must have been a bit after we went on our date last night. He's always been one to take in strays. That's what I love about him." Absent-mindedly saying, the comment made Auron blink at them. Rook then sighed and laid their head fully down looking at Auron's cat form.

"You know, you kinda remind me of him. The color of your fur, the way you glare at me, and how grumpy you look." The last bit made Auron glare again. Causing Rook to giggle and point at him, "See! Just like my grumpy lover......I wonder where he went?"

Rook's voice went lower as they looked up at the ceiling. The penthouse was really quiet, usually when they were here Auron would help make noise. The man turned cat frowned a bit and went to them, headbutting their hand to pet him again.

"I swear if that other 'business' side took him from me tonight I'm going to kill someone." Huffing Rook went back to petting the cat. Calming down as Auron purred to ease their anger, causing Rook to smile again.

"Well, I have you. Even if your not Auron your a good stand in." Whispering Rook leaned down and kissed Auron's forehead again. The cat seemed to be enjoying their attention, the way he kept purring at them.

The moment was interrupted by grumbling, pausing the petting Rook looked at their stomach. Then giggled and turned back to the cat, gently picking him up and walking to the kitchen. Placing him down on the island and turning to the fridge.

"Hhmm, I'm hungry are you?" Looking back at the cat who sat on the island just staring at them. Rook awed at him and took out their phone, snapping pictures. "Ooohh my handsome man! Ugh I need to print these out and put them around my home."

Placing the phone down, Rook then grabbed a quick thing to eat. Sighing as they saw nothing for a cat to eat they wondered if they could order something?

"Hey.....Oh....I dotn know your name baby." Whispering Rook pet the cat once again. Humming to themselves Rook giggled throwing out a name "Edgelord the first." Auron moved away from their hand as he realized the name.

Rook laughed seeing the reaction and wiped a tear, cooing out apologizes to the cat. Auron only turned back when he got love scratches from Rook.

"Hhmm, how about....Red? For your fur. This is so well kept!" Auron simply blinked at them and laid on the island where they finished their meal. Rook kissed him one more time before turning back to their phone.

"It's really late....I wonder where he could be? I swear if he's hurt I'm killing him." Whispering out Rook then started calling Auron's phone. Only to hear the ring in his bedroom, Rook had a even more worried face. Getting up Rook went to the bedroom and plucked the phone up.

Auron jumped down from the island and rushed after them. His paws tapping the flooring in the penthouse, causing Rook to look at him.

"Fuck, um okay, Rook don't panic. He's Auron, he wouldn't get hurt he's.....he's smart and probably forgot his phone! I don't have the number to his other so that's out the question....." Rambling Rook slowly went to the ground. Wrapping their arms around their legs and started sniffing. Auron slowly approached them, placing a paw on their leg to ground them.

"Yeah, your right Red. He's....He's definitely safe. I'm just over thinking." Wiping their face Rook then got up and sighed. Then leaned down and grabbed Auron, or Red and walked back out of the bedroom.

"I think I should order cat food....or is there a tuna thing in here?" Searching for a few minutes Rook made a triumph noise. Showing 'Red' what they found, it was a tuna can and Rook opened it and placed it in front of Auron.

Who sighed and ate a bit of it, he was a but hungry and it's been a while since he ate. Rook smiled as they sat watching him eat, then went back to their phone. Still wondering where Auron was, but little did they know Auron was there the whole time.

Just in a cat form that was about to change back in the next hour.

[wooyoong]

🌼 freya's recent svt reads (& recs)

disclaimer : these are my RECENT reads, and i haven't added some of my old reads! also i have tried to add atleast one for each member to the list hehe (except jihoon he has two)

note : fic titles labelled with a * mark are series. minors please stay away, strictly. almost all fics here are 18+ !!

— also, i am @angelwoozi 😭 incase you wanted to check out my writing blog then.

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

* yours, but not yours by @gyukult (fake dating au, 18+)

when a nice guy gets too overbearing, you’re stuck with the option of having a fake boyfriend.

YOON JEONGHAN

Jeonghan's Guide to Insurance Fraud (And Falling In Love) by @starsstuddedsky (f2l, fake dating au)

your best friend offers a way for you to get your wisdom teeth removed without going into debt. the only catch? you can’t fall in love

HONG JISOO

Plush by @bitchlessdino (est relationship, 18+)

soft joshua cockwarming drabble, with love and yearning.

WEN JUNHUI

Love, Actually by @haet-sal (single dad, boss jun, kind of infidelity au, 18+)

You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

KWON SOONYOUNG

i don't understand but i love you by @hvcmixtape (est relationship)

soonyoung has only been the kindest and most gentle husband. sometimes you feel like you're floating on the stars, and sometimes you feel like you've just jumped into the most romantic book.

JEON WONWOO

rich girl by @blushnote (rich girl x street punk wonwoo, 18+)

wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

LEE JIHOON

You Make Me Breathe by @hwanghyunjinenthusiast (hanahaki au)

Jihoon is utterly in love with you. Too bad you're into his friend Soonyoung, and he's too much of a coward to ever tell you how he feels. He's happy to take his feelings to the grave but soon finds that his body doesn't agree with his decision.

* As a Matter of Fact by @starsstuddedsky (co-workers to lovers, fake dating au)

when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in your heels and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

LEE SEOKMIN

(Not) A Gentleman by @wonusite (est relationship, 18+)

Your boyfriend is the sweetest man alive—a perfect gentleman. However, you’re determined to show him that he doesn’t always have to be a gentleman.

KIM MINGYU

Good Dad, Better Daddy by @bitchlessdino (dilf au, bestfriend's dad mingyu, 18+)

you were hesitant when your friend said you should just stay at her house for the summer, especially knowing you can barely contain yourself with her hot dad around as well as the thought of not getting caught.

XU MINGHAO

at dawn by @sluttyminghao (domestic au, est relationship, 18+)

domestic sex with boyfriend minghao!

BOO SEUNGKWAN

pussy sport by @duhnova (fwb au, 18+)

leave it up to boo seungkwan to almost suffocate between your thighs, eat you out till you’re crying, and to figure out a new kink of his.

CHWE HANSOL

You Get Me So High by @cheolhub (f2l, 18+)

smoking with your best friend (who you totally don’t have a crush on) is super fun till all you can think about is him… well, doing him, to be more specific.

LEE CHAN

promise ring by @lovelyhan (royalty au, f2l, 18+)

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.

🌼 show love to all the authors, and don't misuse their content. all rights reserved by the respective authors!

[thekatebridgerton]

So this is another episode of stories I want to read and I don't have the energy to write because it's 2am and I still can't sleep: real enemies to lovers past life au

And I mean I want a real enemies to lovers Bridgerton au where the Bridgertons straight up killed their love interest in the most Brutal way possible because they were that bad. Maybe its a past life in a fantasy world where the Bridgertons were dark overlords and their enemies were a powerful band heroes trying to defeat them who were killed by them to maintain power. But when the heroes died, the Bridgertons realized that there was nothing woth conquering anymore without an arch enemy and pretty much destroyed the world

But then the reincarnation happens and it's 1800 regency England and the spouses immediately recognize the people who killed them in a past life and go like ' nope, I don't like people who murdered me in my past life 'while the Bridgertons themselves don't know why they feel drawn to these people who keep fighting/avoiding them.

Kate knows Anthony murdered her in her past life, she remembers and he doesn't, in her past life she was a powerful mage who saw her friends die one by one trying to eradicate the Bridgertons and faced off with Anthony in a brutal final battle, in this life she's trying to protect Edwina from the vultures of the ton and he's trying to get close to Kate, for someone unknown reason. she's going to shoot him one of these days and struggles with the knowledge that in this life he's done nothing to deserve it. he's all she ever trained to destroy in her past life, in this one, he's just a foolish man, how can she let go of old grudges if he keeps frustrating her so much and trying to get on her good side

Sophie was a saint with healing powers in her past life, she's a maid in this one, big deal she can get trough this. Her plan is to reach spinster age, hunt down Phillip or Simon and start her own medicine practice. Except that the guy who killed her in her past life somehow found her first, he's offering to help her get a job as a maid in his house ( serving his other 7 muder happy siblings? No thank you) she's trying to avoid him, found work with Lady Danbury, and he thinks they're soulmates just because she nursed him that one time. Seriously if she wasn't honor bound as a healer in her past life she would have left him to die!! Why wont he get away from her.

Penelope was killed in the least violent way, past life Colin was almost gentle when he killed her, so she's always had a soft spot for him. She was willing to let the past life lie and be his friend until he said he'd never court Penelope Featherington!. As if she would want him to! That idiot!. In her past life she was a paladin who never married and had her life cut short by Colin..She's going to save up her LW money, buy herself a husband and move far away from her former executioner... Wait a minute! He should take responsibility for that, she didn't even have a first kiss in her past life because of him! He should give her one! She's determined not to die a virgin in this life and she's going to make it Colin's problem if he keeps sniffing around her business!

[mrsrookhunt]

Not me forgetting its Mermay until the last day of May. Anyway, idk if it really counts but now I don't have time for plot planning so have an Azul X Reader.

I really love the idea of present day chubby Azul. Maybe he gained weight over stress, I'm not sure. But you still think he's more than adorable when you see him again a year later.

Leave Me Be

Chubby!Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Self-shaming, Depression, reader is probably also chubby but maybe I'm just projecting

Traveling to the deepest depths of the Coral Sea was less than easy. Honestly, the amount of potions and formulas you had to drink from weaker mages made you feel like shit. Azul could've done far better for you, but upon your accidental return to Night Raven College through some portal you'd found in a puddle, you'd found that he'd left the school and decided to take a year for himself at home.

You were shocked, but there wasn't much you could do; he wasn't returning your messages. You waited a couple of weeks for school to let out, and had Jade and Floyd take you to his home.

You quickly found out that Azul had moved out of his family's home, into the outskirts of town, apparently, according to the rumors, depressed and ashamed of himself.

Alone, with Jade and Floyd already gone to their own destination, you swam unguided to where you hoped was at least the general direction of his new home.

The other Mers had said his home wasn't easy to miss, but for someone as unsuited to water as you, particularly in these dark depths, a serious worry that you would get lost ruminated in the back of your mind.

Around 30 minutes of aimless swimming later, you saw a dim light in the gloom.

It seemed to glow a dim purple, somewhere off in a hole in the side of a massive rock formation.

Bracing yourself to swim upwards quite the distance, you realized just how massive this wall of rock and sediment was.

It was just a guess.

No one had mentioned Azul's home as being on the human equivalent of a mountainside. But then again, it didn't seem like many people had visited him. They spoke strongly of his gloomy, irritated demeanor, and unwillingness to use his magic anymore. It seemed that shortly after he moved, he began rejecting visitors all together.

You pulled yourself along the rough rock wall with your hands, following the light, which became clearer and brighter the closer you swam.

It was just a guess, but you were certain if there was any place the Azul you knew would hide, it would be far away from others, holed up in a spot where he'd be safe and unbothered.

The relatively small opening to the cavern you were less than a few feet from fit the definition to a tee.

Maybe 12 feet across both directions, the mouth of the cavern felt tucked away.

You took in a deep breath when you reached the edge, seeing the gauzy purple light brighten from within, relishing the strange feeling of water filling your lungs instead of air.

"Azul?" You called out, unsteady and feeling small in the vast ocean around you, hands still tightly gripped on the rough rocky surface.

A small flurry of bubbles, and the light turned off with a tick.

"I'm not accepting visitors at the moment." A voice called from within, annoyance pricking every syllable.

You sighed and valted yourself into the entrance of the cave with relief, not going any farther.

"Did you not hear me? Step out of my home, I have not invited you here!" His tone was sharp and outright angry.

You couldn't see a thing in the dark now, but you could feel the soft swish in the water of Azul's swift movements nearby.

"Zullie, it's me." You called into the dark, feeling unsettled.

A silence seemed to fall over the small space.

"...Yuu?"

His voice shook, a little weaker than he had clearly intended it to come out.

"I've missed you." You said tentively, hoping he would turn the light on already.

"Why are you here?"

His voice was composed and sharp again.

"W-well," it was your turn to stutter. He seemed almost angry that you were here. "I found a portal back to school and.. I found out that you had left, and I just..." Though you tried to keep yourself together, tears began to flow freely into the ocean. "I couldn't leave you alone. The first person I went looking for when I came back, was you."

You could hear the heavy breathing from what you could now identify as across the room.

That swish of movement again, and--

"Leave me be."

"What-?"

"You heard me." He sounded solemn. "Go, Yuu. Go back to school, or go back home." His voice was softened and shaky; you could hear small sniffles.

"Azul, please, I've missed you so much!" He must have heard the panic, the hurt in your voice, but he only sank deeper into the depths of his cave.

"I don't want you here." He mumbled. "I don't want you here, and I'm not coming back to school either. Don't wait for me."

"Zullie, please! What happened? What's made you like this?"

"You have," He grumbled into the waves.

Your voice dropped to a whisper. "Me? What did I do?" You sat at the edge of the cave.

He didn't respond.

"I'll sit here until you tell me," you warned, in a voice softer than you thought you could manage.

The silence answered you.

"Azul.. I'll go. Just, listen for a moment. I'm sorry if I hurt you... I.. I really missed you. I'm so, so sorry, I'm--" You were crying into your hands at this point.

A single tentacle wrapped around your arm and gently tugged it away from your face.

"It's not your fault.. I shouldn't have hidden it from you. Yuu.. there was something I neglected to tell you before you left. I.. love you. And I didn't tell you. And I've regretted that every day since. I didn't think I would ever get the chance to tell you again."

The tentacle tightened around your arm.

You wiped your tears away, a wry laugh escaping from your mouth amongst the remnants of sobs.

"That's.. what I regretted too. I didn't tell you either.. I love you too, Azul."

You crawled closer to embrace him.

The tentacle rapidly whished away, and you heard him scoot back. You stopped in your tracks.

"..Azul?"

"Yuu.." You could hear the pain in his voice. "It would still be better if you left."

"Absolutely not! You can't j-just confess and expect to escape it now!" You protested. "I've missed you for far too long. Please, I don't want to leave you right now."

You grasped in the dark, coming into contact with a tentacle you gently pulled toward you, sensing Azul moving closer with it.

"You.. you won't like me anymore." His voice is breathy and he sounds pitiful.

"Who said that?"

"You don't understand... I'm not.. what you remember."

"What does that mean?"

"I look different."

"Your mer form, you mean? I've seen it before."

"No.. I looked different in.. other ways."

"...What do you mean?"

The air that hung between you was dampened by the cold, lonely feeling of sadness.

"I used to be fit, and beautiful, for a time... but I couldn't keep that up after you left. Now I'm just a disgusting remnant of who I was when you knew me. I've done nothing but indulge myself in treats, forgotten all about ideal caloric intake, I've not exercised or--" His voice was tangibly anxious, fast and unstable. You could guarantee his eyes were glazed over with tears.

You squeezed the tentacle you were holding tighter, watching him quiet as he wrapped it around your hand, shaking and softly crying.

"Azul, are you trying to tell me that you've gained weight?"

"I look disgusting."

You cast your eyes downward with solemn understanding. "I doubt that, Zullie. I can't imagine you could ever look anything other than perfect in my eyes." Your voice was whisper quiet, but his breath still caught at the sentiment, whimpers lessening as you gently ran a finger back and forth over his suckers to calm him.

"Don't hate me." He muttered, suddenly pulling away from you and shuffling to the other side of the cavern again.

Click

The light revealed your beautiful octo-mer, still as wonderfully entrancing and gorgeous as you'd remembered.

He took your breath away. You could hardly even see any imperfections, even now. His stomach was rounder, his arms were less toned, his jawline was softer and his tentacles looked more full than before. But he was still the most beautiful man you'd ever lain eyes on.

His icy blue eyes were filled with tears you couldn't overlook, and before he could say another word, you launched yourself upon him in a tearful embrace, soothing him with soft whispers while your tears intermingled with his into the open ocean.

His tentacles wrapped against you, words of love and passion falling from both your lips.

You put your hands on each side of his face, guiding him to look into your eyes.

"Azul, I don't see any difference. You're still you. And I love you because of the Azul up here--" you pushed a finger at his forehead. "Not because your body has changed. I love you, Azul. And I won't leave you again."

He buried his head against your neck.

"I love you, I love you so much, Yuu..."

"Zullie.. I'm here to stay. Do you hear me? I'm never leaving you again."

He pulled you tighter to him, sobbing once again.

"Thank you... thank you for coming back, Angelfish."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

May 31st, 2023

Yeah, this was healing, I know I'm not fat but damn I feel horrible about my body :(

-Kaori

[ukranianacearo]

"Mother", a strong word

Part 1 Part 3

Fem!Reader

Word count: 558

Mentions of Innocent zero's original name

TW: mention of [Y/N]

Pairing: romantically none, but reader had to marry Innocent zero

Tag: @makima1345

Genre: fluff I guess

Author's note: It's preferably to read part 1 first, because most of the lore is already explained there and I'm not a parrot to repeat it all over again. Someone wanted a part 2 so here it is😭 probably will write mash x reader fanfic soon, (probably gn or fem) and reader will have the same powers as here and a similar background, I think

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

The room was in complete silence. Which was awkward. You were sitting in the nursery's bed, your back against the headboard of the bed. Mash, who just came in, was standing in front of the bed's feet. Never you would think that it would be so awkward to talk to your own son, but here you are.

- "Um, hello, Mash. I'm [Y/N], your biological mother. You can call me whatever you're comfortable with. Also, sorry for letting Cyril, I mean, Innocent zero hunt you down for sport and almost kill you and your loved ones. Please, sit down. " - Saying that you patted the chair next to the bed you're sitting on.

- "M'kay." - This was getting really awkward. You didn't know what to say, but still tried to act calm. - "Why did you join him in the first place?" - You didn't expect such a question from him. Although, maybe you did. It wasn't too surprising after all.

- "To secure my own survival." - Your answer was in a soft voice, just like a mother's one should be. Mash was silent for a few moments, seemingly thinking about your answer. Then, he replied.

- "Didn't you have another choice? I heard people liked you back then." - You laughed lightheartedly at his words; he really didn't know as much as you thought. At first, you thought that Wahlberg or someone else told him about your persona, about how you are such a bad, lying, manipulative witch. But even if someone did, Mash seemed unbothered.

- "Silly, they didn't like me as a person. They liked what they say, what I gave them, what I showed them; they liked the happy and positive mage not the torn out lack magic who all can do is steal magic and throw punches. Innocent zero knew me, the actor, and not the character of the play. While he didn't plan to reveal it, enjoying the show too much, he also wouldn't try to help me in a dire situation unless I helped him." - You said calmly with a soft smile. He seemed to process the information, but there was some sort of lag in his brain halfway through. Before you could explain it again in simpler terms, someone barged into the room. It was a young boy, the same age as Mash, with pink hair and pink dull eyes. You knew it was Domina from the pink necklace, very similar to your own necklaces in design, around his neck. Domina looked agitated, as if he just run a marathon; he looked distressed and as if looking for something. When he finally spotted you sitting on the bed with Mash by your sight he had a complicated expression on his face. It revealed relief, doubt, nervousness, excitement and much more. He started slowly walking towards the bed you were sitting on and Mash seemed calm at his appearance.

- "Oh, hi Domina." - Mash said casually as he looked at Domina who stood already next to the bed, probably on the verge of tears as you looked at him with soft eyes and a smile, just like a mother should. It was the first time he felt so loved even without knowing the person personally well. You guys really had a whole bunch to talk about...

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I'm sorry it's so short compared to the first part, but I just couldn't wrap my head about how would Mash react😔 maybe, I'll do headcanons, like, post-""Mother", a strong word" but idk. Hope you enjoyed and take care of yourself! <3

[intheticklecloset]

The Tickle Demon: Second Strike (Black Clover)

Collab with @giggly-squiggily!

**Spoilers for Season 4 and beyond of Black Clover**

To read Part 1 (her fic), click here!

Summary: Part 2 of Squiggily's fic! Yuno offers to teach Liebe the best ways to tickle Asta, which the demon readily accepts!

A/N: EEEEK this was so much fun to work on! Asta and Liebe have had all of my brainspace since the latter was introduced in Season 4, and when we got to fangirling about them, this was the result! (Her idea, by the way!) Thank you so much for collabing with me again, friend! I had a ton of fun! 💖

Word Count: 2179

~~~

“Now, now, Liebe,” Asta said, putting his hands up defensively. “Let’s…let’s not get hasty, all right? This whole tickling thing is still pretty new to you—”

“Hey, it worked fine with your friend, didn’t it?” Liebe shot back, beginning to grin. “What’s the matter, human? You scared?”

Asta opened his mouth to retort, then decided – stupidly – to try and make a run for it.

Behind him, Yuno stared in bafflement and exchanged a brief glance with the demon before the latter of them took off after the shorter mage. Beginning to feel a giddiness rise up in him that he hadn’t felt in months, Yuno sprinted after them both.

“Are you seriously trying to run away from me?” Liebe called after Asta, cackling with amusement. “We’re contracted! You literally can’t outrun me!”

“I can try!” Asta shouted over his shoulder, but his huge grin gave him away – to Yuno, at least.

Catching up to Liebe for a split second, he panted, “He just likes to make things difficult. Think you can take care of that?”

“Heck yeah, I can,” Liebe replied, then put on a burst of speed that had him caught up to Asta and tackling him to the ground in seconds.

Asta yelped and flipped onto his back just as Liebe caught his arms and pinned them at his sides. “Waitwaitwait!”

“Let you catch your breath, I know, I know.”

Asta blinked up at his demon, surprised. That hadn’t been why he’d been protesting, but it made him feel oddly proud to see Liebe catching on to his earlier lessons so quickly.

Yuno caught up to them then, unable to help but laugh a little. “What were you thinking, taking off like that?”

“You did it, too!”

“I had a chance to escape.”

“No you didn’t!” Asta and Liebe retorted in unison.

Yuno smirked and crouched at Asta’s side beside Liebe. “Well? Are you ready, Shortsta?”

“You’re still hung up on my height—?”

Suddenly Liebe’s unfairly pointed fingers were in his ribs, cutting Asta off mid-rant and making him choke on a startled laugh, trying to pull his arms out from under his demon.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Liebe told him with a grin.

“Wahahahahahait, nohohohohoho!” Asta giggled, squirming as much as he could even though the demon had barely begun. “I dihihihihihidn’t sahahahahahay I was reheheheheheady, you jeheheheherk!”

Liebe snorted. “You were talking just fine, so I assumed you could breathe.”

Yuno barely bit back another laugh of his own. He’d only known Liebe for a few minutes, but he liked him already. And the friendship he seemed to have with Asta was clearly strong, so he liked him even more for that.

“Why aren’t you laughing as hard as he did?” Liebe asked after a few moments of soft snickers, fingers poking and prodding all along his ribs.

At this point, Yuno felt it was time to step in and do his share of teaching as well. “Different people are more ticklish in different places. You just have to find the right spot.”

“Oooh.” Liebe hummed, nodding as he dragged his fingers to Asta’s waist.

Asta’s giggles grew a tad softer at the change in location, much to Liebe’s obvious frustration. “Nihihihice try, Liehehehehebe! You’ll hahahahahave to do behehehehetter than that if you wahahahant to take mehehehehehe down!”

Yuno rolled his eyes playfully and reached in to help, wiggling a finger into the space where Asta’s armpits were clamped to his sides. “You’re in no position to be sassing us like that, now are you, Shortsta?”

In response, the smaller mage whined and bit his lip to keep from laughing any harder, determined to hold out at least a little bit.

“Come on, where is it?” Liebe grunted, releasing one of his arms to better access the hollow of his armpit and scribble his claws into it.

Asta yelped and tried to pull his arm back in again, but Liebe only grinned and pinned it out to his side as he tickled. “Oooh, is it here? Is this the spot that will make you laugh?”

Liebe – for all his enthusiasm – wasn’t very good at gauging what human reactions meant in this context, Yuno decided. He scooted around so he was sitting behind Asta’s head, then gestured to get the demon’s attention.

“Here, give me his arms,” he said.

Both of them ignored the giggly “nononono!”s that were coming from Asta as Liebe handed his wrists off to the wind mage and watched as he pulled them above his friend’s head to sit on them. They both knew full well that despite his small stature, Asta had strength to spare. Best to take precautions.

“Try again,” Yuno encouraged, slowly trailing his own fingers in Asta’s armpits to keep him giggling and squirming while still allowing Liebe the pleasure of finding the best spot on his own. “You’ll know when you get to it. Oh, and don’t forget to tease him, too, remember?”

Liebe’s eyes lit up at the same time that Asta shot Yuno a “what the hell?!” look that had the wind mage smirking back at him.

“Oh, yeah!” The demon grinned and finally went for Asta’s stomach, making him shriek at the same time he let out a long string of, “Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle!”

“Gahahahahahaha nohohohohohoho! Liehehehehehehebe, it tihihihihihihihihihickles!” Asta screeched, laughter spilling out of him in waves now as he struggled and writhed on the ground, unable to bring his arms down protectively anymore. He arched his back when the demon dragged a claw along his navel and cried, “Nohohohohohohohoho!”

Yuno grinned, watching the two of them. Liebe was a bit clumsy, but his eagerness made up for it, and despite his protests, he could see that Asta was having a blast in this moment. He always looked so happy when someone he cared about was tickling him. He thought it must really mean something that he and Liebe had bonded so quickly. He’d have to ask about their story later.

For now, he gave the demon a minute or so to enjoy Asta’s usual happy laughter before deciding it was time to bring out the big guns.

“You’re pretty close to making him really laugh,” Yuno said, smiling as Liebe looked up to meet his eyes. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to teach you the best way, because I doubt you’ll get it on your own.”

“Yuno!” Asta screeched, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Dohohohohon’t you dahahahahare!”

“Do dare!” Liebe interjected, grinning even wider. “If he doesn’t want you to share, it must be good. Tell me, human!”

“My name is Yuno,” the wind mage reminded him gently but firmly, “and I will. Watch this.”

“No! Yuno, don’t!” Asta whined, trying to bring his arms down to throw him off, but a quick scribble over his belly put an end to that.

Yuno finally allowed himself to grin mischievously, leaning in close to Asta’s face and digging a little harder into his armpits, cooing in his most annoyingly babyish voice, “What’s wrong? Whittle Asta can’t handle some whittle tickles? Hmm? Is that it?”

Asta twisted his head to the side, blushing furiously, trying desperately to keep his laughter at bay.

Yuno glanced at Liebe and said, “Tickle his stomach again.”

“No! Nohohohohohohoho!”

“Aww, whittle ticklish Asta can’t take some tummy tickles, can he? No, he can’t~ You’re so red now! Does it tickle too much? Huh?”

“FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—!!” Asta barely cut off a curse as he finally exploded with laughter, writhing on the ground like he wanted to burn a hole into it. “I TRUHUHUHUHUSTED YOU, TRAHAHAHAHAHAITOR!!”

Liebe watched Asta fall apart with rapt interest, eyes wide at the human’s reddened cheeks and more panicked state. Despite his curiosity, however, he found himself confused, and he frowned. “Why are you talking like that?”

Yuno stopped what he was doing to look up at him. He opened his mouth to explain that it was baby talk, but then – did demons have babies? Would they understand the concept? He found himself blushing a little, knowing how childish it all was. But it worked, and they both liked it, so he shrugged off the embarrassment and did his best.

“It’s a type of teasing. It’s called baby talk,” he said, glancing back down at Asta as he caught his breath and going right back into it before he could fully recover. “And it works soooo well on our whittle Asta! See? It makes him laugh sooo much, yes it does! Aww, are you ticklish, whittle Asta?”

“CUHUHUHUHUHUHUT IT OHOHOHOHOHOUT!!” Asta shrieked, shaking his head as he laughed helplessly under the onslaught.

Liebe still didn’t fully understand, but he thought he might have enough information to give it a try, so with a shrug, he dragged his claws down Asta’s stomach and cooed, “Oh, whittle Asta is a whittle baby, is he?”

His first instinct was to cringe – what was this insane type of human speech? It was ridiculous! – but then he saw how much Asta began to struggle and laugh in response to the words, and he felt something close to excitement well up inside him. He grinned, met Yuno’s approving gaze, and tried it again.

“Where does whittle Asta think he’s going? Hmm? I told you, we’re contracted! No escaping me, ticklish whittle Asta~”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UP!!” Asta pleaded, laughing even harder now that his worst spot was being tickled in tandem with the teasing words.

Then the reality of them hit Liebe, and his grin went from pleased to utterly wicked in the span of a second. Asta could almost see the devil horns sprouting out of his head (besides the ones he already had).

“That’s right,” Liebe taunted, his voice lowering on instinct as he continued to coo at Asta’s laughing, squirming form. “You can’t get away from me ever, whittle Asta~” He dug his thumbs into the squishy bits of the sides of Asta’s stomach, earning a louder squeal for his efforts. “You said it yourself – I’m your tickle demon, aren’t I? Tickle, tickle, tickle! Whittle Asta is just soooo ticklish right here, isn’t he?”

Asta tossed his head back and positively cackled, his laughter coming out unfiltered in a way Liebe had never heard before. At a glance to Yuno, who gave him a smiling nod, he kept up his attack for another couple of minutes, watching the human utterly crumble beneath him and loving every second of it.

Eventually, though, he seemed to shift from this “having fun” thing they kept talking about to something else.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ENOUGH!! NO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!!” Asta begged, cheeks so red they looked like strawberries and a sheen to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “YUNO!! LIEHEHEHEHEHEBE!!”

Yuno held up a hand to the demon, signaling for him to stop. Much as he would have liked to keep going, Liebe followed his direction and ceased tickling, though he didn’t immediately climb off of him like the wind mage did.

“There. Now we’re even,” Yuno said, ruffling his hair playfully and hiding his wince as the bruise on his elbow from his own ambush reminded him it was there. Asta gratefully brought his arms down to cover his stomach, hands inadvertently resting on top of Liebe’s. “You good?”

“Y-Yeheheah,” Asta managed, gasping for breath and turning a halfhearted glare on his best friend. “You traitor.”

Yuno smirked, glancing at Liebe. “I think we both know you don’t mind him knowing about this.”

Asta groaned, but he grinned up at the demon anyway. “Yeah, it’s fine. As long as you promise not to kill me with it, you jerk.”

“I promise no such thing.” Liebe smirked, suddenly grabbing onto his wrists and pinning them down again, his eyes flashing in a way that made Yuno nervous but that only made Asta giggle again. “Like I said, you’re stuck with me. And now that I know about this little weakness…”

Asta squeaked as Liebe used his tail to prod his side momentarily.

“…I intend to have all kinds of fun with you. Soft whittle Asta~”

“Stooooop!” Asta snickered, twisting his body so that Liebe fell onto his side, both of them grinning. “Go back to being a puffball! I want to hang out with Yuno. I haven’t seen him in forever.”

“Who are you calling a puffball, you little—!”

Yuno watched the two of them wrestle and couldn’t help but grin. It was strange; he saw how close and comfortable Asta was with this demon, yet he felt no jealousy. If anything, he was happy for him. Happy that he had another friend within the Black Bulls to look out for him.

They did eventually get to walk around the kingdom and catch up, with Liebe piping up once in a while but mostly leaving them to it, and Yuno was even more grateful that he was willing to let them have their time, unlike a certain wind spirit he knew.

Whoever this demon was, he felt good about entrusting him with Asta’s safety and well-being.

And his laughter.

[feyascorner]

Preview | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. 0, TBA

a/n. This is just a preview of the multi-chapter fic I thought of :)) I'm not sure if I'll be able to continue writing it yet, but I'll definitely try lol. It takes place after the game!!!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else besides you, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help out today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check up on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

[owlespresso]

Leander -> to MC: “Are you seeing someone else?”

The room smells of sex and leather. It gets under your skin, makes your whole body prickle something unpleasant. Underneath the sheets, it’s suffocating.

You’re surprised, almost, since Leander tends to run cold. Beside you, he breathes slow and mellow, balmy warmth brushing up against your skin. Dark lashes fan against his cheeks, his expression gone loose in sleep. Your gaze dips to his parted lips, then down to his chest, observing each breath he takes with tepid neutrality. 

He’s beautiful. It’s hard to say it when he’s awake and therefore more annoying. But he’s beautiful and—and you can’t really stand it.

Carefully, you prise yourself from the cocoon of sheets and clamber for your clothes. They’ve been discarded at various points across his room, ripped off in a rapid frenzy. You can’t believe anyone would be as desperate as he was to get to your skin, to you. It opens something inside of you, cracks you open in ways you still don’t feel comfortable with. 

Each garment you slide into is another piece of armor put back on. Your smallclothes first, then your trousers, then your blouse—your fingers fixing up the buttons. The routine gesture is grounding.

“Where are you going?” Leander calls out into the dark, voice still soft and deep with sleep. Ah. His first nap in years and you’ve interrupted it with all your rustling. 

“Out.”

Fingers curl around your wrist. One moment you are standing beside his bed, the next you are pinned underneath him, caged against the mattress. You’re pinned in the warm impression he was just occupying, for he runs cold but there is no getting around the fact that he is warm like any other living, breathing animal. Even a mage as talented as he cannot flee those mortal trappings.

He looks at you, searching, conflict written clear as day across that handsome face. 

“Leaving already? You don’t have to, you know,” he begins, looking down at you with a fretful furrowing of his brows. He kisses your forehead, then your nose, and then your cheeks. You squirm as his lips press all over your face, hand finding purchase on one of his broad shoulders. “Has all the quality time we spent together mean nothing to you?” He continues, voice extra pleading once he realizes he’s not getting his way. 

You look over at him with a scowl, mood dampened further at the outright pitiful expression he attempts to ply you with. You don’t owe him an explanation, but you know from experience that he can cross the room and cling onto you before you get to the door. 

“I just wanna get something to eat.”

“I’ll bring you something from downstairs,” he insists, nuzzling his cheek into the crook of your neck. Warm breath brushes across your clammy skin, chilled from your time out of bed. He warms you eagerly, runs his big hands along every part of you he can reach. “What do you want? Eggs and toast? Beef roast and steamed vegetables? Champagne? Name it and you’ll have it.” 

“I told Ais I would meet him at the pastry stall down the street,” you mumble, almost shyly, knowing he won’t like the answer. His touch stills. 

“...You’re seeing other men,” he says. The affection and raw need that’d dwelt in his voice gives way to something softer, quieter, but emptier. There’s some sort of resignation there. Something that makes a chill sweep down your spine.

“If by seeing you mean bringing him along to intimidate the stall owner into getting a better deal, then I guess so.” you mumble, rapidly blinking up at the ceiling. Leander’s lips dance up and down the column of your throat, a flurry of kisses pressed over pre-existing marks. Your skin twinges in the spots where he fixed his teeth, Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, fingers flexing over the cool, broad muscle.

“Oh, so you’re leading him on?” The levity returns to him. “I can’t believe you’d take advantage of such a sweet guy. I guess it’s my fault, though. I didn’t tire you out enough.” he mumbles, touch drifting to your midsection. Nimble fingers nudge underneath the hem of your blouse. His hands are cold.