#billboard is still corrupt

[lokisasylum]

'LIKE CRAZY' what a Queen👑

[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!

[thesiltverses]

Hey I wanna buy the rpg but none of my friends have listened to the Silt Verses. Will the game still make sense to them?

Hey! This is actually something The Gauntlet figured might be a concern for some listeners, and they've factored it into the advice for Keepers/GMs:

Obviously there's never any guarantee that any group will click with any setting, but as they mention, the rulebook does have a ton of helpful text to introduce the world of TSV to players who've never encountered it before.

I actually ran a short session last week with some friends who'd never listened to the show, and this was the one-pager introduction text I gave them (which seemed to work just fine!)

The game is taking place in a modern world much like ours, a nation-state called the Peninsula, but with one crucial difference - gods are real, and they’re everywhere. All of them hunger for attention, all of them hunger to be fed, and all of them yearn to transform the world around them into their own image. In the cities of the Peninsula, major businesses conduct industrial-scale mass human sacrifices to appease the gods of electricity, oil and coal, while ordinary citizens walk past huge billboards for deities of coffee, processed pork, and breakfast cereal. In the countryside, towns and villages may worship their ancient gods of harvest, hill, river, and forest in secret, conducting ancient, brutal rituals and holding to their old traditions even as modernity threatens to overwhelm them. The government of the Peninsula - the Legislatures - do their best to control and regulate worship, licencing certain faiths while banning others outright. Depending on who you ask, this is simple common sense to prevent population collapse from unsustainable sacrifice, a safety precaution to keep certain dangerous gods from spreading too far and wide, or a deeply corrupt act of oppression to help their friends in the world of commerce maintain a monopoly of worship. However, there is no such thing as a ‘safe’ god. Illegal or legal, in the cities or the countryside, any god may break free from the control of its worshippers, evolve or grow beyond their understanding, or bestow its horrible blessings upon ordinary citizens, transforming them into the twisted image of the deity. The world around you is broken-down, often abandoned, and always dangerous. ‘Angels’ and ‘saints’, reshaped manifestations and servants of a god’s will, stalk the land, uncontrollable and almost unstoppable. Local law enforcement, when it isn’t corrupt, apathetic, or compromised, has a tendency to go missing in the backwoods if it interferes too closely with the affairs of an illegal faith… You begin the game as Custodians - government stooges and former convicts who’ve been press-ganged or ‘volunteered’ into a dangerous and thankless field role, travelling across the territories of the Peninsula to investigate cases of volatile worship, or to mediate in situations where an angel or saint has gotten loose. Each of you has your own history of dangerous, fanatical, or illegal worship, a past life where you were beloved by a particular god, and even now its whispering shadow haunts your steps… Where you go from there is up to you.

[semisgroupie]

THE CHASE

professor!aizen sosuke x virgin!fem.reader

wc: 3.1k

warnings: college au, age gap (aizen is in his 40s and reader is 21), virginity loss, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly possessive aizen, power imbalance, dubcon, slight stalking

synopsis: you make your virgin hunting professor work for what he wants

a/n: this is for my lovely nymph @nymphoheretic’s poppin’ cherries collab!! check out the other links!!

Sosuke could smell virgins from a mile away. Call it his sixth sense but he just knew. Maybe it was due to how many he’s already deflowered over the years. Or maybe it was just obvious.

College is a time for exploration and fun and so many students coming onto campus have this idea in their heads. They want to mix and have a balance of fun and scholarship. Some were a little too desperate than others but they weren’t the ones that caught Sosuke’s attention.

The ones that caught his attention were the shy ones, the ones who never really knew or understood how deprived and depraved they really were. They were the ones that stared at his body a little too long when he wore a particularly tight button up shirt, the ones that always got flustered at the slightest bit of praise for getting a correct answer in class, the ones that were so easy to lure into his office for an “after class discussion”. It was a little too easy how he could lure them in and within an hour their worlds were turned around. From being an innocent, shy virgin they became depraved sluts.

New semesters meant new students to corrupt and Sosuke couldn’t wait.

He normally eyed his next notch in his belt within the first class, it was like they had a blinking billboard above their head with an arrow that said “CORRUPT ME” and how could he ignore that?

Deep down he was a little tired of the constant ease of finding virgins and luring them into the deepest parts of a lust filled hell. He wanted a little struggle, he wanted a thorough chase. He wanted to feel like a lion stalking a gazelle before making the kill. Maybe he will get that this semester. Maybe if he finally got it, he wouldn’t have to look for new prey to satiate his hunger. Maybe he would finally be satisfied.

As everyone started gathering in any hope of a challenge to his usual routine started fizzing out, some of the girls that walked past him had blinking “FUCK ME” signs on their foreheads, others were some that he had already tempted and most likely want a second chance, others just didn’t pique his interest. He leaned on the wooden podium that stood at the head of the classroom and watched everyone come in and take their seats but then you walked in. You looked like you were probably rushing into the classroom, probably woke up late but you still caught his attention. There was a fire burning inside you that he could just sense but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too soon.

As the semester went on, his hypothesis proved right. You were a challenge. You didn’t get as flustered as the other girls whenever he praised you in class but you did stare at his muscles for a little too long whenever he wore a tighter dress shirt. He could practically read your mind as you stared at him but whenever you realized he caught you staring at him, you didn’t flinch or tear your gaze away, rather you stared right back at him. Almost challenging him before he had to break his gaze so he could continue his lesson. Whenever he announced he had office hours, you never jumped at the opportunity. You never accepted the invitation he laid out for you and it frustrated him a little but that just meant he had to try that much harder.

He would admit now that what he was doing was quite creepy.

He was able to convince someone who worked in the admissions office to access your schedule and email him a copy. Once he had that he was able to coincidentally walk by the buildings or the lecture halls you were in whenever your other classes ended. It happened so frequently, you quickly caught on and figured that it wasn’t just some coincidence. But you didn’t even give him the time of day, only offering him a small glance before walking away with your friend.

It was very frustrating but he had some tricks up his sleeve that he knew would work on you. He was going to make you his, even if it was the last thing he did.

He overheard from your friends that you were looking for a work study opportunity or just anything that could keep you busy, but wherever you went there were no openings. Well, it’ll be your lucky day because a new position is opening up with the lovely Aizen Sosuke.

You were sitting on your bed scrolling through your laptop when you saw a notification of a new email. You opened it up and your eyes widened a bit when you saw the subject: PROFESSOR’S ASSISTANT POSITION OPEN. You quickly opened it and looked through the details, only stopping when you saw who the professor was. “Professor Aizen?” From what you’ve heard around campus he was one of the only professors in the English department who never had an assistant. In the back of your mind you wondered if there was a specific reason why he decided to change his mind now but you didn’t dwell on it for too long. You scheduled an appointment with him in the evening after you had him for class.

The next day went by quickly and it seemed like the hours went by even quicker. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t immune to his charms, there were nights where you laid in bed and fantasized about him, there were moments in class where your thoughts wandered but you had to refocus yourself so you could focus on the lecture. Now, you would be in a room alone with him. To say you were anxious wouldn’t even be enough to describe your current emotions.

You held onto the folder that had your resume as you walked through campus to the building where his office was located. You got in the elevator and pressed the button to the top floor and tapped your foot against the ground as it rose through the floors. You were nervous, you tried to do whatever you could to make sure there wasn’t a moment where you would be alone with him but now that you were in a time of need, any caution was thrown to the wind.

You walked through the hall to his office and looked at all the empty offices. It was completely past normal office hours for any professor and then there was a dim light luminating the end of the dim hallway that came from Sosuke’s office. You smoothed out your skirt and knocked on the door that was partially open. “Come on in Y/N.” You took in a deep breath to try to ignore the chill that ran down your spine when he said your name and then walked inside, “close the door behind you.” You did as he said then took the open seat in front of his desk. The top four buttons of his shirt were undone to reveal his chest and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal his toned forearms.

He finished typing away at his computer then turned his attention to you. He adjusted his glasses and took you in, “Did you bring your resume?” You nodded and handed him the little folder you brought with everything you needed. You sat there in silence as he skimmed through the pages, only low hums and paper being sifted through prevented you from sitting there in complete silence. After a few minutes he put the folder down and let out what sounded like a disappointed sigh.

“You have an impressive resume but I don’t know if you’ll be ready for a workload that I have to handle. I mean, what can you do to show that you’re qualified for whatever I'll throw your way?”

Your eyes widened as he spoke, there was no way he could be serious. How was your resume not enough? You worked your ass off to make it look perfect and here he was telling you that it wasn’t. As much as you wanted to tell him off, you had to remind yourself that he was still your professor and you really needed this position. You swallowed your pride for a moment and looked up at him, “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I’ll be a useful asset.” He raised an eyebrow at your words, for such a smart girl, desperate times really blinds someone.

He pushed his seat away from his desk and stood up, “stand up.” You furrowed your eyebrows at his words, why would you need to stand up? Still, you weren’t really in the place to ask a million and one questions so you did as he commanded. He walked over to you and pulled the chair you were sitting on away. Once it was out of the way he walked around you, his eyes roamed your body and you were frozen in place like a fly that was stuck in a spider’s web. He stuck a hand out when he was behind you and lifted the back of your skirt to see your panties, a pretty pink that contrasted beautifully against your skin. “Cute.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and instinctively you pressed your thighs together, it was a futile effort since he had already seen what he wanted to see. “Lean forward and hold onto the table.” You looked back at him and opened your mouth to protest, “I said lean forward and hold onto the table, you said you’ll do ‘whatever it takes’ to prove you’ll be a useful asset and I expect to cash in on that offer.” You cursed yourself for using the phrasing you did, but you didn’t expect him to take advantage of his position like this. You chewed on your bottom lip as you leaned forward and gripped the edge of his desk in front of you. He flipped your skirt up again and kicked your legs open, making you spread them for him.

You shut your eyes and bit on your bottom lip harder as he kneeled down and placed his hands on your ass. He didn’t really say much as his hands explored your lower half, you just heard little mutters. Then your bottom lip was released from your teeth as you felt something wet lick over your panties. “Mm, I can spot the taste of a virgin from anywhere, even over the soft cotton of your panties.” You gripped his desk tighter and your knees buckled as he repeated the action. “Sir, please.”

“Hm?” He mumbled against your clothed cunt before pulling back, “come on, you’re a smart girl. Finish your sentence.” Just as you thought you had a moment of reprieve, you felt his thick fingers dip under the waistband of your panties and felt them go down your legs until they were at your ankles. You took a deep breath and turned your head as best as you could to get a look at him, his chocolate locks were still in place, excluding the few hairs that framed part of his face, his glasses were placed on the chair you were seated on and his eyes held an indescribable emotion.

“How did you know I’m a virgin?” It was a naive and innocent question that erupted a chuckle from the man kneeling behind you. “I told you, I could taste it. Plus it’s like my sixth sense to know who’s a virgin and who isn’t. From my surveillance of you, you only go out with your female friends and then you’re locked away in your dorm for the rest of the time.” With that he spread you open and dove in, you felt his tongue explore your pussy with such fervor. You had to grip his desk even tighter to prevent yourself from falling to the ground. The sensations were foreign but they brought immense pleasure. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as he sucked and licked you thoroughly. The slurps and groans coming from him were beyond lewd and practically pornographic but any embarrassment you felt was clouded by the pleasure you were feeling.

Your legs shook as his tongue explored every fold and crevice and a gasp left you when you felt one of his thick fingers enter you. The stretch was slightly painful but the pain quickly subsided when his lips latched onto your clit. Moans and whimpers of his name left your lips as if you were reciting a prayer, a prayer for more pleasure. A prayer for your new god.

He pumped his finger slowly to get you adjusted to the stretch before he picked up the pace. A faint sound of squelching could be heard through the cacophony of all the other sounds that filled the room and he slowly pushed his second finger in. He knew you would cum soon, he could feel it. These were all feelings you were experiencing for the first time, no matter how many times you pleasured yourself. None of the toys you used or your own fingers could compare to another person’s touch, especially someone as experienced as he was.

His assumption was proved right, your legs shook more and your moans got louder until you let out a cry of his name. Your body shook and he licked and fingered you through your orgasm. You dropped your head on top of the desk and panted as he pulled off you. His face was a mess of your orgasm but it was a mess he’d proudly parade around campus.

“Good girl, that was the first orgasm someone else had given you. Now I’ll give you another but with something else this time. To really show you’re worth filling this position, you need to learn how to take my cock and your first lesson starts now.” His words just filled the space of his office, you were too busy regaining your sense of self in the moment. You slowly lifted your head and looked back at him, his cock was out and it was throbbing. There was no way he could make that fit inside you.

“Sir, it won’t fit. It’s too big.” You took your bottom lip back between your teeth as he chuckled. “Oh dear, don’t you worry. It’ll fit, we’ll go nice and slow.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek before pressing two fingers to your chin so he could tilt your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was soft and slow, you were enveloped in the warmth of it until you felt his cock start to enter you. You broke the kiss and your mouth fell open as you felt each inch slide inside you. You felt like you were being stretched beyond belief but a familiar feeling joined the mix. His fingers rubbed your clit in tight circles which helped aid you in taking a cock for the first time.

His other hand moved to hold onto your waist as he bottomed out. The feeling was beyond pleasurable for him, nothing could compare to the feeling of breaking a virgin. Well, nothing could compare to the feeling of taking your virginity. He worked so hard for this moment and he was going to relish in it for as long as he could. Once he felt you relax around him he started thrusting, the pace was slow at first but then instinct took control and he started snapping his hips into yours. He threw his head back as he heard the lewd snaps of skin on skin with each thrust.

“Fuck, I’ve never had a pussy this good. It’s like you were molded for my cock.” He groaned out as he dug his fingers into the soft skin of your hip. You moaned underneath him, his words just added to the burning in the pit of your stomach. If this was what it was like to get fucked then you’re glad you waited this long, you’re glad he took the initiative and gave you both what you wanted even if you hadn’t realized it.

As he kept thrusting, you felt the familiar feeling build up in the pit of your stomach. You were going to cum again. You were going to cum for him again. But you didn’t need to announce it, not when he knew you were close. All you had to do was focus on the feeling and let it take its course. You moaned out his name and your back arched as your orgasm washed over you. The feeling was even more pleasurable than the first time. He moved his hand from your clit to hold onto you tighter as he pounded into you with reckless abandon. All caution was thrown to the wind now that he was focused on chasing his orgasm. Your pleas of “too much” and “I’m sensitive” only served as background noise as he reached his own orgasm.

He didn’t bother pulling out of you. Why should he? It’s not like this would be the only time he would fuck you, definitely not. He was going to make sure that his cock would be the only one you would take. You felt the warmth of his cum fill you and you let out another moan. He dropped his head on your back as he panted then he lifted himself off you and pulled out slowly. Your legs could barely hold your body up but it was like he could predict every future event as he scooped you into his arms and placed you on the small loveseat in his office. He covered your body with a blanket and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest dear, once I’m done with grading these papers I’ll bring you back to my home. We’ll spend the weekend together and I’ll teach you all your duties as my assistant.”

He watched as your eyes fluttered shut and he fixed himself up. He walked over to pick up your panties, “hm, must’ve fallen off when I brought her to the couch.” He looked at them with a smile and brought the trophy of his conquest to his desk and put it away in one of the drawers. He sat down and looked over at you with a smile, you were sleeping like a baby that had its nighttime bottle. “Fuck, I just love virgins.” But you would be the last virgin notch in his belt, coming across a virgin like you was a rare occasion and he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

taglist: @jctaro @benkeibear

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

hi! i just saw your analysis of the “treasure of my heart” quote and omg you have a GIFT for analysis! In that post you mentioned the “Rare Spices” billboard Inej talks about in CK; I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on that!

Hi, thank you so much!!! I personally think that the “Rare Spices” advert is one of the most important pieces of information we get to further both worldbuilding and charactisation, so let’s talk about it.

The advert is massive sign painted on the side of a warehouse in Ketterdam, near Sweet Reef, and alongside the words “Rare Spices” it depicts two young Suli women in “scant silks”, mimicking those that Inej was forced to wear at the Menagerie. When she’s first liberated from Tante Heleen, Inej begins to explore Ketterdam and one of the first things she sees beyond the city centre is this advert. It terrifies her. It terrifies her so much that she stands there just staring at it for an unspecified amount of time, before turning and running back to the Slat faster than she has ever run before. In fact, it terrified her so very much that she has a nightmare about the girls on the billboard that night. In Inej’s nightmare the girls come to life but are trapped in the paint, banging on the billboard to get her attention to ask her to free them, whilst she is powerless to help them. Inej at the time comments on the horror of seeing this scene mere miles from where “the rights to her body” were bought and sold and haggled over (I think most of that is quotation but I don’t have my books to hand so I’m not 100% sure), and it tells us so much about how the Suli culture is exploited and fetishised within this community; whether it’s Ketterdam, the rest of Kerch, or the world at large (we could argue this is highly implied through Zoya’s POV, but it’s a whilst since I read KoS and RoW so if anyone wants to weigh in on Zoya in this then please do I’d love to read it 😁).

In my post where I mentioned the Rare Spices poster I was specifically focusing on the way Inej’s culture was sexualised for the purpose of being at the Menagerie, and how we know that other cultures are appropriated and fetishised by the Pleasure Houses as well (the Fjerdan girl at the Menagerie wears the wolf mask, an animal sacred to her people, and Nina wore a fake Kefta that was made in Kerch and is described to be a pale imitation of real Ravkan-made Kefta). But for Inej, up to the point of seeing this sign, that was a small part of the world; the actions of the few, a localised evil that she understood to be the opposite of the rest of the world because she still viewed everything with a childlike innocence. Seeing this sign breaks that façade for her and is arguably the first step towards what she views as the ultimate corruption of her innocence: murder. Because once she knew that the world on mass would see her and her people the way she was forced to present them, to appropriate her own culture, and to be fetishised for her “caramel” skin and “farcical mockery of a Suli caravan” she was forced to admit to herself that there was no way of returning to the person she used to be; not only someone who had been violated, exploited, and abused but also someone who believed that on the whole the world was a good place and that as long as you avoided the small parts of it that were dangerous you’d be okay.

And consider the wording of the sign. “Rare spices” next to two young Suli women wearing “scraps of mint-coloured silk”. There is a long history in our world of sexualising the so-called “exotic”; even the English/British idea, that I assume is what led to this same idea in the USA and much of the English-speaking world, that blonde women are more attractive, often leading them to be over-sexualised, can be drawn back to the Roman Colonisation of England because the vast majority of Romans were brunette or dark-haired and they saw the blonde Anglo-Saxons as “exotic” and attractive. (To be clear, in our own society this long history sexualisation has been mostly aimed towards people of colour and I’m absolutely not ignoring that, I’m just using this example because it’s the furthest back in history that I know of being as the colonisation was around 43 CE). The presentation of not only the spices but these women as “rare” to increase their sex appeal enhances this idea of ‘the exotic’ and by comparing them to the spices it, very similarly to all of the language surrounding Inej at the Menagerie, labels the women as stock, as produce, as something consumable like spices.

But something that I personally find really beautiful that Leigh Bardugo does surrounding this sign as well, is that Inej never condemns the girls on the billboard for the ‘suggestive’ outfits they wear, as long as they are worn by their own choice. She imagines that when she has her ship and begins to hunt slavers that the paint will peel from the sign and that she will have finally succeeded in freeing the girls, that they will “dance for no-one but themselves” and this is so beautiful but also so important as a declaration of female empowerment and autonomy because they have every right to dance and wear whatever they want to, but no-one has the right to force them to do that.

[shinolavolume1]

Boys be like

It was Coney Island. they called Coney Island the playground of the world. there was no place like it in the whole world like Coney Island, when I was a youngster. no place in the world like it, it was so fabulous. now it's shrunk down to almost nothing, you see. and I still remember in my mind how things used to be. and, you know, I feel very bad. but people from all over the world came here. from all over the world. It was the playground..they called it the playground of the world over here. Anyways, uh, you see, I, uh, you know.i even got, when I was, uh, when I was very small. I even got lost at Coney Island, but they found me. On the, on, on the beach. and we used to sleep on the beach here, sleep overnight. they, uh, they don't do that anymore. things changed, you see. they don't sleep anymore on the beach

Girls be like

The car's on fire and there's no driver at the wheel

And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides

And a dark wind blows

The government is corrupt

And we're on so many drugs

With the radio on and the curtains drawn

We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine

And the machine is bleeding to death

The sun has fallen down

And the billboards are all leering

And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

It went like this:

The buildings tumbled in on themselves

Mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble

And pulled out their hair

The skyline was beautiful on fire

All twisted metal stretching upwards

Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said: "kiss me, you're beautiful -

These are truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand and we fell into it

Like a daydream or a fever

We woke up one morning and fell a little further down -

For sure it's the valley of death

I open up my wallet

And it's full of blood

[eatommo]

Tear You Apart [m.m]

A/n: The follow-up is here! Finally! thank you for hanging in there for me. I'm pretty happy with how this turned out and I love to report that I am feeling a lot better. Fill up my inbox with asks/requests, we are nearing 300 followers, and I would love to do some requests, even new characters (really into Din Djarin right now) so ask away!

Cw: Age gap, a continuation from wake-up call (same pairing but you don’t need to know to understand), object insertion, improper use of weapons, feral!matt, corruption kink, breeding kink (minor), praise kink, meandom!matt, reader doesn’t stand up for herself. (hell she can hardly sit straight), choking kink (this is intense), little bit of throttling, mentions of catholic symbolism, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

w.c: Just over 9.2K

Summary: Not long after finding out Matt is Daredevil, do you get to experience him.

The first night you spent in Matt’s apartment comes to mind in flashes.  You could still smell the musk on his sheets, and feel the heat of his chest at your back as he fucked you relentlessly with his hand placed firmly over the necklace he had secured in place just an hour before. 

The way his hands spread over your throat, spanning collar bone to collar bone, had you feeling completely at his disposal.  There was absolutely no way you could overpower him, he had you however he wanted you, and you wore a reminder of that very deal you had struck around your neck. 

No matter the bruises and palm or belt shaped welts he left on you, the familiar weight of the chain swinging freely fropm your neck grounded you.  You were his to bend over, you were his to eat, you were his to command.  

He came hard, perhaps the hardest you’ve seen him before.  With your brain scrambled and the coating of your tangled releases clinging to your thighs, you rolled to face him.  Body aching with aftershocks, and from being so taught with drawn-out tension that had you feeling like an over-stretched rubber band, you collapsed. 

For the first of many times, Matt snuck out.  You must’ve been stupid, or too fucked out to care.  Because while no new scars appeared out of thin air, bruises and small lacerations floated across his skin from one location to another like some twisted Timelapse of a color inverted sky. 

Weeks later, if it wasn’t for a nightmare about a man watching you while you slept, you probably never would’ve caught him standing over you.  

The matte red of his suit dulled the shifting colors from the billboard outside, and while you hadn’t lived in New York for very long, the form was unrecognizable.  

You start to scream, the air burning your windpipe as it reaches the back of your throat and is muffled by a gloved hand before it bubbles from you. 

“Ease up princess,” the hair on the back of your neck stands up, feeling like a dog who had been backed into a corner, “It’s just me.” 

The adrenaline in your body is shoving each rational thought out of reach.  “Matt?” You squeak, not able to hear your voice clearly through the tightness of his hand.

“More or less.”  He smirks, teeth flashing in the dim light of the room, “Don’t make a sound, be my good girl and let me speak hm?” 

You stay silent, unable to patch a cognitive sentence together.  His hand falls back to his side, and your body flinches, pulse still loud in your ears. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,  I heard you and I thought something was wrong.”  His breath is uneven, and his hands are uncontrollably twitching at his side with the energy of the hunt coursing through his veins. 

You open your mouth to speak, but decide better to stand up and examine him.  His silhouette looms over you, the broad expanse of his chest covered by a thick red armour like material, the cowl on his head covers his forehead and eyes, your gaze floats down to those lips you know so well, and you lean in for a short kiss, reassuring yourself.  Perched on his head are two small horns, Matt is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Your confusion melts away into disdain and anger.  The scars, the bruises, split knuckles, and cracked ribs are because he’s fighting crime in the city, not because he’s boxing in some underground fights.  “How are you doing this?” Somehow it’s the only question you’re able to form.  

“It’s all… complicated.”  The playfulness in Matt’s tone is dismissive; it only infuriates you further.

“I don’t even know where to start–“ your voice is teetering on the edge of sobbing and yelling, “Are you hurt?” 

“No. Not tonight at least.” He lifts the helmet off his face, his hair is tousled like you’ve seen it so many times before. “Go back to sleep.” 

“No. Don’t dismiss my concern for you.” The sadness in your voice felt like ice on his skin.  “Matt, how is this even possible?” His gloved hands brush a single tear from your cheek. 

“I was blinded by chemicals that enhanced my other senses.  I can smell your tears, and the vanilla soap you used this morning, I can hear your heartbeat and tell when you’re lying.” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “I can taste you on the air, every time you walk into my office, right now… I can discern your heartbeat from the rest of Hell's Kitchen.” 

You nod your head as he speaks, and now you realize he knows when those things happen.  “I forgot to ask, have you spoken with Foggy and Karen?” 

He turns away from you almost immediately, clearly hoping you had dropped this topic entirely.  “I haven’t. I don’t understand why it’s such a huge deal for you.” His voice cuts the air like a knife, settling in tension you hadn’t recognized.  

“What do you mean for me?”  Your brows knit together in a cocktail of confusion and anger. “You said it wouldn’t matter, that they might be surprised but it wouldn’t change anything?  I thought I made it clear I didn’t want to sneak around anymore.” 

Through gritted teeth he retorts, “I don’t want things to change.  Plus I had to tell you about this before or Foggy would’ve asked me to chase you away.  Or even did it himself.”  His head tilts every few seconds as you realize with a start that he’s reading your mind through your body language.

“Im not going to be your house pet.  That’s not what I want out of this, you know that. Why would he chase me away?”  You feel your temperature rising, and a small shake starts at the base of your spine and makes its way to the ends of your fingernails. You’re completely frustrated by his words, and to make matters worse he’s completely aware. 

“It’s dangerous.” He states as if the answer is clear as the night sky.  

“What is? To be sleeping with the Devil?”  A raging laugh simmers in your throat, unable to escape the failing hold you have on it.  

“Everyone around Daredevil gets hurt–“ 

You cut him off, that ominous snicker breaking free, “Daredevil isn’t hurting me, Matt, you are.”  

He turns as if to walk away, before changing his mind and spinning back around to face you.  “I know.” The words are cracked and the bitterness in them tastes like salt on your tongue. 

“Why am I here? With you?”  You can feel your resolve breaking, tears burning your eyes, you want him to taste them, to understand the gravity of what you’re saying.

“Because I’ve been selfish. Realistically, Foggy is right, I can’t be both people.”  His voice is lifting in volume and desperation. 

“You're insufferable.” You plant your feet on the ground, looking for a burst of willpower to pull you out of his bed.  “Was this whole thing just to get me ‘out of your head?’” You pander, eager to see more than a flicker of emotion in his gaze.  

“Absolutely not, I care about you.  I can’t stop thinking about you.  I just can’t be what you need.”  He’s frustrated, voice inching higher with every passing moment.  

Your patience wears thin, running a shaking hand through your hair, you gather yourself.  Finally, your feet are planting not so firmly under yourself, carrying you to your overnight bag.  

Matt shifts his weight from foot to foot, head-turning to track your movement, “Can I at least walk you home?” The words fuel the sting in your eyes.  

“You’re going to, no matter what I say, Matt.” You heft your backpack onto your shoulder, “That’s part of the problem.” 

His shoulders are hunched, almost as if he is trying to recede into himself.  “You don’t want to go.”  The low timber startles you, and you know he’s surprised the words came out of his brain. 

“You don’t give me a lot of choices Matt.”  You take a few unsure steps towards the door, waiting for his footfalls to join yours. 

They don’t.

You debated on calling out from work, not being able to bear the kicked puppy look he would carry, even if he didn’t mean to.  It felt like he would win either way because he was right. 

Matt’s inability to be honest with the people around him, even if for fear of their safety, was never going to be acceptable.  As much as you craved to love him and all of his flaws, he is constantly putting himself in danger, and even the little bit of dread you felt just now was minuscule to the grand scheme of the danger he experiences.  

You loved him wholly, and you wondered if he would ever love you enough to take that into consideration.  

The streets were alive with the energy of a Friday night, not that New York City was ever dead.  You walked to the nearest subway station, keen to clear your head with the white noise of the rhythmic skipping on the tracks.

You settle into your stiff seat, letting your brain listen to the familiar noises around you.  You fiddle with the strings on your sweatshirt, mulling over the emotions that are cement blocks in your chest.

This hurt.  

Part of you wondered if he was still standing in his apartment, skating around feelings he pretends not to have.  

The pang in your chest seems to grow the further you get from his apartment, and you wonder if you’re making a mistake.  

Would Foggy think that Matt didn’t deserve you? 

You let the thoughts roll around in your head. 

Soon the subway slows to a halt and you stand with your bag.  You begin the short walk to your small apartment, praying that your roommate is out to avoid the awkward conversation about being out so late. 

Your luck runs dry, she’s sitting in the living room watching the newest period drama on Netflix.

“Hey.  You okay?” She perks up, as awake as you’ve ever seen her.  

You go to speak, but the words turn into a cry.  You shake your head, spreading your arms in invitation for a hug.   

The only person in the world who knows about you and Matt is standing in this living room, she knows almost everything.  But you couldn’t tell her what happened, and that made you feel small. 

“He’s been lying to me.”  You cry, taking shaky breaths in between sentences, “He doesn’t want us to be seen together, he goes out and lies about where he is.”

You paraphrase, unable to unburden yourself completely. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry babe.”  She squeezes tight, rubbing a soothing hand between your shoulder blades.  “Was he seeing someone else?”  

“He’s not, he’s just living a double life I guess.”  You hiccup, the gravity of the words finally sinking into your heart.  “Just different priorities I guess.”

She strokes your hair a few times, before offering you a spot on your loveseat to snuggle up and watch the rest of the movie.  

When you settle into your room a little over an hour later, you look at your phone.  Expecting a missed call or a voice message, but you find nothing.

You begin to type Foggy an apology for having to miss tomorrow, but as the words appear on the screen you can’t bring yourself to lie. 

You delete the message and replace it with a much shorter text.   

I know. 

You clutch your phone to your chest, you feel numb and anxious all at the same time.  Your heart pounded in your chest, and you debated on how to follow it up to get you out of your predicament. 

Oops wrong person sorry. 

The cursor revealed the words as they formatted on the page, but before you could click send the screen shifted to a call screen. 

He was calling you.  

“Mr. Nelson. I’m sorry I sent-” You rushed hoping he wasn’t angry with you, but of course, you were met with concern. 

“Do we need to meet up?  Were you hurt?”  His voice is much calmer than you expect, so much so you feel like there’s been a misunderstanding. 

“I’m okay.  Have you heard from him?”  You wince at the inflection in your voice.  “When I left he was upset?” 

“I haven’t. Is he hurt? Were you on the street?”  You sense a growing bit of annoyance in Foggy's tone as if he’s had this conversation one too many times.

Your heart races a little, how would you have found out? You can’t exactly say you were in his apartment this late.  “I think I upset him, that's all.” 

“I can’t believe he told you, there’s no reason to put so much on your mind.”  He’s talking to himself now. 

“It’s okay, it makes a lot more sense than what he told me initially,”  You backtrack a little, “On ou-the trip to Detroit.”  The heavy feeling in your chest returns, like with every breath you take your lungs fill with cement.  You force a dry laugh, “He told me he was in an underground fight club.” 

Foggy snickers, “Are you coming in tomorrow?  I’ll bring you some of that expensive coffee you two have a taste for.” 

You hesitate, unsure if you can handle confronting your feelings so quickly.  “I’ll be there, you know I can’t stand the way you file paperwork.” 

Foggy laughs a response, “Neither does Marci, we’re thankful to have you around kid.  I know he doesn’t always voice it but I think Matt enjoys your company.” 

Breath catches in your throat as it constricts, “It’d be nice if he told me.”  You fumble the thought in your brain and speak before you can stop yourself.  You fiddle with a loose knot on your quilt.  “I’m sorry Mr. Nelson, I guess I’m still in shock.” 

“It’s alright, I’ve been there.  What made him tell you?”  You hear him clear his throat as he clarifies, “I just didn’t think you were such an important part of his life.” 

Ouch.

Your heart stops as your mouth runs dry, “I-uh I was being followed…on the street.  He chased the guy off and came to check on me and couldn’t hide it from me.”  You’ve never outright lied to Foggy like that before, and you’re sure this wouldn’t be the last time. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, if you want me to talk with him about something, or need to come to me for anything, I am here for you. Consider me president of the Matt Murdock support group.”  He really is the most genuine person alive, and you can practically hear his worry on the line. 

“Of course, thank you, Mr.Nelson.”  The conversation hasn’t helped as you wished it would, the pain in your chest seems to reverberate with the sound of the dead line.  

You looked at the patchy quilt on your bed, you could practically picture Matt laying beneath it.  The first time you shared your queen bed, compared to his king, was quite the adventure, with tangled limbs, and endless giggles.  You remember comparing the scars and bruises on his skin to the blanket that, at the time, didn’t mean much to you.  

Sleep evades you for a while, it feels like your skin is too tight on your body, or that you’re too hot under the sheets and too cold without them.  Your mouth runs dry, and forcing down endless glasses of water does nothing to save you.  The weight of the world feels unbearably heavy, but you can’t help but feel like your world, instead of growing in richness, is wilting in grief. 

Miraculously you make it to work the next morning, not bothering to hide the bags under your eyes or the resting concern in your brow.  The sugar filled coffee Foggy promised you is sitting on your small desk, next to Matt’s steaming flat white.

He wasn’t here yet.  That wasn’t surprising in the least, but your hope that he would make an appearance diminished with each curl in the steam coming from his coffee.  

You ground yourself with a list of tasks you’d like to accomplish: Organize the new filing cabinet, alphabetize the witness accounts from Karen’s latest venture, and run the disposition notes through the braille embosser for Matt’s folder. 

One by one you pick off tasks.  Each shuffle of feet outside the door of the office brings your heart into your throat.  

You hear the telltale tap, tap, tap, of Matt’s cane as he makes his way down the hallway.  The door creaks open, and you feel as though your brain is gonna scramble in your skull.  

He looks exhausted, his hair is damp and a fresh bruise sits on the edge of his jaw.  You fight the urge to speak, you want to check on him, make sure he isn’t hurt, or talk with him about your conversation with Foggy.

“Good morning.”  Foggy’s voice startles you from your stupor, “Have you heard from Brett?”  His eyes move between the two of you, almost like he’s offering to broach the conversation on your behalf. 

You shake your head vigorously, trying desperately to come up with an excuse to leave the room.  Matt’s voice cracks like he hasn’t spoken in days, “I haven’t.  I have to transfer my notes from yesterday's discovery meeting.”  

“She’ll help you with it.  We need to get that witness’ name from Brett, the case depends on it, Matt.”  Foggy reached down taking Matt’s now cold coffee from your desk and handing it to him.  

You grimace and shoot Foggy the most intimidating glare you can muster.  Clearing your throat you offer to help with whatever they needed to be done, “Do mind if I leave a little early Mr. Nelson?  It's been a long couple of days.”

Matt’s head tilted, the rich coffee mixing with the taste of your mouth in the air.  Your heartbeat was erratic, and the muscles in your throat were tight like you were fighting the urge to cry.  

“That should be fine, is there anything else you need her to do for you?” he let his voice trail off, and you never wished you could disappear more.  

“I would like her to volunteer, you don’t need to tell her what to do Fog.”  His voice cuts, and you feel everyone in the room recoil.  

You run a shaking hand through your hair, “With all due respect Mr. Murdock, this is my job, and I don’t need you speaking on my behalf,” You turn on your heel, directing the next words at Foggy, “Thank you for understanding Mr. Nelson, I will see to getting those notes done and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”  

You stand up to throw your empty coffee cup into the trash as Foggy walks toward his office.  You stand a few feet from the bin and toss the cup underhand, Matt’s hand darts out and plucks it out of the air.  

“I’ll leave you two to it then.”  Foggy’s office door closes, and you hear Karen’s hushed whispers.

You sit back at your desk, thumbing through your personal notes from yesterday, gathering them to your chest as you walk over to the embosser.

“Can I talk to you in my office?”  Matt’s quiet voice draws you out of your stupor.  He drops your cup into the trash, as your hands come to cover your face.

You look towards the office across from you, and Matt gives you a they’re listening look.  Your chest grows tighter like a snake is coiling around each lung and tightening with each exhale. Eyes flittering to the bruise on his jaw, he must’ve gone out after you left.  

Without thinking you nod your head, standing while straightening your skirt under your shaking hands.  He glides past you, and you notice a small cut on his hairline as he walks by, and your heart aches, longing to reach out and caress him. 

You shuffle inside behind him, latching the door behind you with a thud.  You allow your eyes to rake over his frame, taking in the smooth skin stretching over the back of his neck, and the swell of the muscles in his against the collar of his shirt.  

Your gaze is steady, even as he turns to face you, your eyes remain trained on the bob of his adams apple as he clears his throat.  You’re plagued by the memories, the taste of his skin against your tongue, and the shift of his shoulders under your nails, the weight of him next to you in bed.

“I’m buying Foggy lunch, and I’m going to get him a few drinks, and then I’m going to tell him we’ve been sleeping together.”  Matt’s fingers card through his hair, “I’m going to assure him it won’t happen anymore.”  His voice begins to falter, “Marci is going to offer you a similar position, it will pay much better, it’ll look better on a resume, there’s no reason to turn it down.”

You begin to protest, but he cuts you off with a raised finger. 

“You will take it, you’d be an idiot if you didn’t.” He shifts so his hands rest on his hips.  

“I told Foggy last night, I told him I knew you were Daredevil,” Your voice is quiet, but the tone and clear definition of each word made it seem like you had been rehearsing the words in your head for days. “He was concerned for me, he was compassionate,” you struggle to keep tears from falling down your face, “he was worried you were hurt, and he was surprised that we were close enough for you to tell me.”  

He stands before you, his stance stoic but the blood draining from his face the longer you spoke.  Whether he knew it or not, you were begging him to give you an admission.  It was going to come down to an ultimatum. 

Subconsciously, your hand moved to fiddle with the chain around your neck.  He had so delicately and tenderly bestowed it upon you only weeks earlier.  You had believed it was just a step in your relationship together.  Matt was a man who needed to commit to something completely, there wasn’t place in his heart or time in his life to devote part of his energy.  You felt like he was branding you as permanent, in his apartment, walking you home on the street, in this very office, he had your every thought tied to his existence.  

“I never would’ve asked you to change for me, I wanted to feel like you weren’t ashamed of me.  As much as I enjoyed sneaking around with you, I don’t want to only be another secret in your life Matt.”

You eye him carefully, it looks like he’s seconds away from raising his voice or swiping the contents of his desk to the floor in anger or despair.  

“It’s not fair for you to say that sweetheart, you deserve a pulpit and devotion that I can’t commit to.”  His mouth sets like he’s grimacing in pain. 

“I’m not asking for more of your time, I’m asking for you to be forthright with me about what you want from me.”  Tears finally fall from your eyes, you see his tongue dart out for a split second.  “I just thought this,” you let your finger run over the quaint circle at the base of your neck, “was going to be more of a commitment to each other, rather than a collar on a pet.” 

He takes the red glasses off and you see a glimmer of tears threatening to fall down his cheek.  “That’s not what I wanted for you or for us.  I never thought I’d be have an opportunity to have such a smart, beautiful woman in my life.”  his emotions and running through the muscles in his face, skipping over the blank but frantic movement of his eyes. 

The tightness in your chest returns, the flames of anger in your lungs turning into the smoke of grief.  

“I wanted- want a life with you, for the first time in my painful existence I thought about waking up next to a wife to the sounds of crying babies, and hastily getting ready for church on sunday mornings with toddlers.  I want nothing more than to wake up with you for the next millennium ready to take on big cases or mortal enemies or school principles.  I’ve lost almost everyone I’ve loved, I almost lost Karen, I almost lost Foggy…” 

He rolls the buttons on his cuff between his fingers, he’s anxious and emotional, you want to comfort him, hold him and tell him that you know he’s capable of protecting you, that you want to be in his life regardless of the risks.  But you are angry, that he has been bearing the weight of this conversation himself, brutalizing himself, and that made your heartache.

“Matt, you need to understand that I want to share these burdens with you,” you step slightly closer, fighting the urge to pull him to your chest so you both can cry your heart out, “I want to be a bigger part of your life.” 

He sniffs, swiping a tear off his cheek, “It's not fair for me to bring you into everything-“ 

“Let’s not call it that, neither one of us understood what this was going to be.” Without thinking you motion between the two of you it’s your hands.  “I think we just need to come to terms with the reality that I’m,” you hesitate, the words dangling on the tip of your tongue until you are engrossed with the warmth of the moment completely, “in love with you, and pushing me away isn’t going to make life any safer than it would be with you in it .”  

His head falls back, and his forehead creases like he’s in pain.  “You’re in love with me?” The way he phrases it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself that it’s the truth. 

You chew your lip, you weren’t even sure you loved him until he started doubting that you could.  It was like something in his awestruck tone broke the last little bit of the iron rods around your heart. 

“I lied to you, I am breaking the law every night, I have no money, I have so many reasons why I would expect you to hate me it’s impossible to list them all.”  

You watch him carefully thumb through his thoughts like he’s handling decades old photographs, “I just don’t think I’m ready to accept you feeling like that about me.” 

You wrestle a breath from your lungs, tightening from stress and anxiety over the confrontation.  “You don’t have to love me, not right now, you don’t have to look out for me, I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because you feel like you have a responsibility.”  

Silence hangs in the air for a beat, you watch with curiosity as he tilts his head slightly.   “Are you listening to my heart?” 

He nods. 

“I wish you could hear my brain think, you’d understand my feelings for you.”  His concentration falters and a small smile plays on his face.  

“I wish I could give you everything you deserve.”

“You will.” You retort, not willing to let him think on any negative thoughts for too long.  “Are we broken up or am I allowed to kiss you?” 

He sighs exasperated, before whispering a soft, “Please kiss me.” 

You take the few steps between you in quick strides, and reach up onto your toes to meet his mouth.  His hands shoot to their favorite places, one resting on the pulse in your throat, the other squeezing the flesh on your hip lightly. 

You lick and suck on his bottom lip, and you feel his fingers twitch against your throat itching to tighten as you lift your chin practically begging him to.  Fire skips up your spine and the heat settles on your chest in your face as arousal pools in your belly.  

Almost immediately, he groans, as if attuned to your thoughts.  Your hands run up his chest and play with the soft hair at his nape, you feel your own body tense realizing you don’t know the extent of his injuries.  

“Am I hurting you?” 

“I don’t care.” He snaps, attempting to lift and push you onto his desk.  

You hesitate, his boldness frightening you.  The dull throb from your core wins, as you jump to help him set you on the desk,  feeling the ridges of his laptop dig into the back of your thighs.  

The intensity of the kiss falls when Matt begins to kiss along the shell of your ear.  

You fist your hand in his shirt, fingers catching on a button that pops under the force and clatters to the ground.  You feel Matt’s smirk against your jaw, before he pulls the skin between his teeth.  

He parts your legs with his knees, slotting himself between them and pulling your legs up and bringing your ass to the edge of the table.  

You shutter as your body shifts back to keep your balance.  “Matt, we can’t.”  Your voice is a little louder than you anticipated, making your body flinch in embarrassment. 

His head dips lower, playing along the u-shaped collar of your shirt, teasingly grazing his teeth as if threatening to leave a mark. You tilt your head back, your thoughts becoming more and more corrupted with every single touch of his tongue to your skin.  

“Lie down.”  The warmth of his hands on your thighs sends shivers across your skin and you are coaxed into complying by the brush of his thumb over the top of your thigh highs.  “Fuck.  I love when you wear these.” 

You whine as he begins to place short chaste kisses along the hems, nibbling at the sensitive skin to irk a reaction from you.  “We shouldn’t be doing this here.”  Your arm moves to cover your eyes from the overhead light, in a fruitless attempt to hide your shame, but as he nudges your thighs to open impossibly more you obey.  

The room is hot, your skin is alight with frustration and every skim of his mouth feels like ice, reassuring you and bringing you the pleasure it knows the taste of.  “Can’t I just have you to myself sweet girl?” he mumbles, barely audible to your ears, “I want you every moment of every day.”

His thumb brushes over the growing wet spot on your panties, “Matt-” you whimper his name like a final plea for mercy.  You’ve spent hours with his face in between your legs, but this, his tone, his intentions, they feel sharper.  Like a man who spent hours ready to finally ambush his prey.  

He continues lanquid stokes over the spot, feeling the slippery liquid sink into his skin, and if he takes a deep breath he can smell remnants of your last time together on you, its faint, and the need to replenish your cunt with his cum is overwhelming the anxious fear of you walking out on him.  

Not here. 

He stands, and you lift your head off the table with a ferocity he admires.  “What the actual fuck?!” He avoids your hands pushing him away.

“You’re right about all of it.”  He smiles, bringing the thumb up to his mouth and sucking it between his teeth, nearly coming in his jeans at the sweet taste on his tongue.  “I’m going to take Foggy and Karen out to lunch.” And tell them everything. 

The words hang in the air as you both catch your breath, “If you think that’s enough then I’ve got news-”

He interrupts you, again, “It’s not.”  He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a set of keys with braille labels, “Here, this one is to the apartment, take it to a hardware store, make a copy.”  He reaches out and you give him your hand, he closes your fingers around the key, “I’ll come and get you from yours in a few hours, I’ll tell you everything, I’ll show you everything.”

You watch him with a curiosity you haven’t felt in a long time, it’s not often anymore that his actions surprise you, but this seems like a big leap for him in such a short amount of time.  Worry starts to settle in your bones, but you shove it down in hopes that you’re overthinking things.  

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you tonight.”  He smiles down at you, blank eyes unknowingly staring at your chest and you blush lightly.  

“Maybe I should pretend to look at them more often.” A hand reaches up and pinches at the skin through your shirt.  

Your mouth falls open at his taunt, and you shove him away gently.  He grabs your hand and brings it to his mouth and kisses your knuckles, “I’m sorry.” 

“Thank you, Matt.”  You whisper, your breath finally evening out.  

…

You fiddle with the pink key in your hand, anxiously waiting for a knock on the front door.  The Hello Kitty emblem on the key replaced his key on the labeled key ring, and his worn key now sits upon your various goofy keychains on your oversized keychain.   

You hear a wrap of knuckles from your room, and see Matt standing on your fire escape, in his infamous sweatpants.  “Hey sorry, I didn’t know if Addison was home.” 

You furrow your brow, “Why would it matter?  She doesn’t mind.”  In reality she probably cares a little too much.  

“Well, I wanted you to get a good look at my suit.”  He gestures to the dark purple bag over his shoulder, “I didn’t want to scare her.”  

“She’s going to be back later, and there’s a lot we should talk about.”  You walk up to his slender frame, enjoying the way his t-shirt clings to his skin in the humid summer air, and stand on your toes prompting for a kiss.  

“Capizzi?”  He reads your mind, the thought of pizza and spending the night at Matt’s almost as enticing as seeing him fitting into his suit.  

“Can I still see you in your little outfit?” You poke at his stomach, playfully running your hands over the soft skin exposed as he jumps away from you.

“If you ask nicely.  Might even take it off for you.”  He teases as he lunges to pull you against his chest for another quick peck.  

You sigh, feeling less woeful than earlier, but still teetering on the edge of mourning someone you hadn’t lost.  You force a smirk, “Is there a magic word?” 

He beams at you, and you feel like his light is creeping into your own shadows for a moment, “You’ll have to put that together yourself.” 

Not an hour later you’re settling into his couch with a fresh slice of your favorite pizza, and he’s pouring some wine into glasses.   “I am going to go out just for a quick sweep later, so this is my only glass.”  He states, more as if he is affirming it mostly for himself. 

You nod your head quietly, now knowing he can tell. “So how was lunch?”  You bite your lip, the walk over had been peaceful, and not unlike any other date you’ve been on.  Nights with Matt seldom started in public, he was always afraid to run into someone who he knew and might gossip about him.  

He smiles brightly, “Surprisingly, not terrible.  I did get my ass chewed, but Karen just insisted that she knew.” 

“Did she? And Foggy?”  Your voice was cracking, and ice crept along your spine.  “Am I going to get to work with Marci?” 

“I think she figured it out today, I don’t think she knew before then.  Foggy was upset with me, for many reasons, one being a repeated argument, that I ‘find the most beautiful girl in the room’ and then he has to ‘suffer’.”  He laughs lightly, recalling the moment.  “It was nice to hear from someone else.” 

You tilt your head a little, mouth full of pizza.  “He thinks I’m beautiful?” you mumble through bites of piping hot food.  

“Why wouldn’t he? He gets to actually see you all the time.  I just get to imagine.”  He is a bit woeful, but his hands reach for the crest of your kneecap, dragging softly over the skin.  

The light touches make your heart jump at the crawling tickle falling down your spine.  

“But if it means I get to touch you all the time.” He moves his hand to rest on top of your thigh squeezing gently,  “I guess that’s a plus.”  

Heat replaces the ice as a blush crawls up your neck.  “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.” He leans down and takes a bite from the side of your slice of pizza, “Get your own devil man.” you scoff, scooching away from him slightly.  

He twists you toward him, pins you to the couch, and has the pizza in his hands before you can even begin to fight back.  He lifts his leg to slot between your legs, “You need to get used to letting me take what I want.”  He punctuates the words with a bite from the slice.  

Your heart rattles in your chest as you fumble from some retort short of a groan of approval.  “Oh yeah?” you open your mouth and make a small click with your teeth, asking for a bite.  “If I don’t?” 

He smirks above you, “I’ll tease you until you’re begging for it.”  The pizza hovers inches above your mouth, and when you go to take a bite he pulls it away with a taut, clicking with his tongue in jest. 

“Let me do a quick lap.”  He lowers the food to your mouth finally allowing you to bite off a chunk.  “If everything goes well I should be back in an hour.”

You feel the muscles in your face twist, as you suppress the urge to beg, or even bribe him to stay.  “Okay,” you trail off letting your body adjust to the next train of thought, “does that mean I get to fuck you in the suit?” 

His body tightens, and his voice shifts to a grave timbre thick with lust,  “I never knew just how beautiful those filthy words could sound.” 

You smirk, holding his admission close to your chest.  “Yeah? My little altar boy like when I use nasty words?  Does it make him wanna fuck me silly?” 

He chuckles, “This little altar boy,” he shifts his hips so the thick line of his cock digs into your abdomen, “wants to hear you try to talk with your mouth full of my cock.”  

“Maybe. I want you to give me a little show first.”  You run a finger down his chest, making sure to catch a nipple, and stop at the waistband of his sweats.  

Try as he may to hide the little bit of desperation in his gait as he walks towards the chest in the closet, you catch a glimpse of the swell of his cock tucked into the waistband of his sweats. 

You sit up keeping your eyes trained on him, eager to see his body transform from the mind mannered lawyer into the feared vigilante.  The muscles in his back flex under the shirt as he lifts the chest with ease and sets it in front of you.  

The chest itself has the earthy smell of old leather, you lift the lid to reveal an old yellow and red wrestling uniform.  “Your dad’s?” You run a thumb over the stitched  lettering.  

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”  He nods, a shy smile shared between the both of you.  You sort through a set of black clothing, and what looks like two baton-like pieces of wood before brushing your fingers over a material unlike anything you’ve ever felt.  

You lift up the cowl, feeling the harsh ridges of the horns with your finger as a shutter rolls through your body as you picture the mask settled on Matt’s head.  Leaving just his beautiful jawline and his plush mouth exposed, millions of scenarios run through your head, how it would feel to have his mouth pressed to your cunt as he dons the horned helmet, seeing nothing but the silhouette of the deadly man known as Daredevil loom over you as he fucks into your pussy.  

Your eye twitches at the thought, and blood begins to rush between your thighs as you squeeze them together.  “If I would’ve known this is how you’d react, I would’ve told you a lot sooner.”  

You glance back up at his face, noticing the flush of heat spread across his neck and cheeks, matching the heat you feel creeping up your spine.  You reach for his hand, splaying it out so you could place the disguise in his hands.  He runs his hands across the helmet, tracing the ridges you had gone over with his own finger.  

You see a metal pole sitting along the edge of the trunk, you lift them to examine the texture of the metal and notice scuffs and dents along the ridges.  “What’s this for?” 

“It’s a club of sorts.”  He takes it from your hand, raises it above his head and throws it at the wall behind your head.  Before you’re able to duck the weapon zips past your head and returns to his waiting hand.  

“Jesus Christ.”  Your heart is accelerating in your chest with each passing moment.

“Not exactly.”  His fingers notch at a button on the metal rod, a soft click and the pole separates into two pieces. 

You press your legs together and suppress a small groan, but watch in dismay as his head tilts to your chest, clocking your reaction immediately.  

The devilish grin on his face doesn’t leave until he leans to press his mouth against yours. Heat blooms over you both, swallowing down every little sound he makes as he uses his hands to seal your body against his.  

A tingle crawls up your spine, the dull ache at your core growing more incessant and your worries seem to be brushed away.  All you can think is how well he knows the curves of your body. The fingers of one hand drawing circles over the crest of your ass.

Suddenly you hear a click, and a soft slide of metal on metal.  The next thing you know you’re being lifted onto his waist, you look down, either one of the poles is in his hands, and see the ends of what looks like a sleek cable connecting the two.  The thin cable digs into your flesh, the bite on your skin painful but the warmth of Matt’s abdomen against your pussy only spurs you on further.  

“I want you.”  The whine escaping from your mouth surprises you, “Please.”  

You’ve begged for him before, but the eagerness in your voice is different from what he is used to.  He can feel the rapid clip of your heart against him, and the way you buck against him ever so lightly with each passing moment.  He lets the clubs zip back together, setting them on the coffee table before dumping you onto the couch. 

He sinks to his knees in front of you, knocking your legs open with his hands and quickly getting to work massaging up your thighs, occasionally letting his thumb brush over your clothed center, leaving feather-like kisses in their wake.  

You lift your heels to the edge of the couch in effort to grind against his fingers with each chance you get.  “Such an eager little girl.” He taunts, pulling away slightly so he can remove his shirt.  

You shake your head, playfully denying the obvious.  

“Oh? You’re not eager? Don’t lie to me sweetheart.”  He traces the waistband of your shorts with his index finger, allowing the rest of his hand to skate over the sensitive skin of your abdomen.  

You bite the side of your cheek to hide your smirk, “Nope.”

He cocks his head to the side in challenge. “Okay, if that’s how we’re going to play this.  Get on your hands and knees.”  

Your gasp in surprise, settling onto your knees perhaps too quickly, and letting your hands rest on the arms of the couch.  You blink and Matt is towering over you, gripping the flesh of your ass with a small moan.  He bends, grabbing a black cloth from the chest, folding it expertly in his hands, before bringing it to cover your eyes. 

You begin to protest, “Matt-”. 

You're cut off by the sound of the trunk closing,  “We’re doing this my way now sweetheart.  You’ll just have to shut up and take it.” 

You groan, pushing your hips back in effort to find his hand, his hips, his mouth, anything.  You feel nothing but the cool air of the apartment, before you feel his rough hands run up your back, lifting your shirt, the change in temperature causing  goosebumps to spread over your skin.  He begins to pull your shorts down your legs, kissing and biting harshly as the sweet scent of your skin fills his nostrils.  

You lift into each lave of his tongue, desperate for each little bit of contact he gives you.  He pushes your head down further, so your chest is almost flush with the couch, your ass proudly stuck up in the air.  

You hear the loud crack of your skin being slapped before the sting hits you, blossoming across your skin causing you to clench your jaw in pain.  A second follows quickly behind, and even blindfolded you know how a bright red handprint looks on your skin.  You whimper again, feeling your slick wet your panties even more.  

He massages the raised flesh between his fingers, and you push against him even wiggling a little in hopes to entice mercy from him.  “Not eager at all.” He taunts, “If only everyone else knew what you looked like, ready to be fucked by me.”  He rubs a single finger on the wet patch, fighting the urge to lick at it, “Anytime I want.” 

A moan escapes your mouth, but then you hear a soft click followed by the cold bite of metal against your sex.  “Matt-”. 

“Nope.” He mocks, following your hips as you pull away from the baton.  “Take what I give you.”

You still, letting him rock the rod against you, the pressure just avoiding your clit.  The contrasting temperatures make you flutter against the metal, and he basks in the sounds coming from your desperate little mouth. 

Your clench around nothing, the begging and whining in your brain barely able to escape the fog and make it out of your mouth. “Please.” 

“Please what?  Use your words.”  He hooks your panties with his thumb, moving to hold them aside exposing your sweet cunt to the cold air.  

“Please fuck me, touch me, anything please.” 

He chuckles, and you feel the tension in the room become heavier with just the sounds from his chest. “Anything huh? You’re going to regret that baby girl.” 

His mouth is against you with no warning, licking and parting you expertly.  Tongue caressing your clit, as he nudges your entrance with his nose.  Inhaling and drinking any drop of you he can get.

You whimper under him, fingers digging into the cushion of the couch trying to focus on the growing warmth in your belly.  His tongue moves to your entrance, slurping and sinking into your heat with a fever you haven’t felt in him before.  

You cry out, nearing the edge of your release before he stops.  Hand coming down on your ass again, a yelp startled out of you.  You feel the cool metal against your bare sex this time, the metal glides through your wet pussy with ease, gathering the juices along the shaft.  It not until he’s notching it at your entrance do you really understand what is about to happen, if it possible for your brain to fog up more it was.

Torn between protesting and pushing back against it, you stay still, allowing him the freedom to do what he pleases.  

“You can take it sweetheart.”  You feel yourself stretch around the unforgiving metal, he hears every single squelch as your body struggles to accommodate his weapon.  “God you sound so beautiful.”  

He angles it down, and slowly starts to pump the shaft of the billy club grinding it against your g-spot.  With each shallow thrust it gets harder for you to catch your breath, Matt brings his other hand to gently toy with your clit, stroking it in time with the slow movement.  You feel yourself tense, the pain and pleasure beginning to feel unbearable.  

“Matt, please I’m gonna cum.”  You cry, shame crawling up your cheeks at being so fucking desperate for him to let you cum you don’t care if its with his weapon inside of you.  

“Yeah? And if I stop pretty girl? Still gonna deny that you’re eager for me then?”  His pace quickens, fingers pushing harder against your clit.  “You’ll do anything if it means getting to come for me. Right?”  He mocks your quick pants, starting to slow his movements as if allowing you to think enough to answer him, all you can muster is a nod.  

“Words.”

“Yes, God please let me cum.” you cry, legs beginning to shake. 

He circles your clit gently with his fingers, “Go ahead baby.”  He speaks the words against your skin, biting and leaving marks on you desperately wanting to feel the rush of your orgasm.  

You swear as a blisteringly hot wave of pleasure sears through your nerves, knees buckling beneath you as Matt struggles to keep the baton inside you as you squirm away from him.  

“That’s it baby, so good for me.”  He continues to work away as you whimper, he pulls the club from you with a sick string of wet noises and a rush of your pheromones hitting him in the face.  

You rip the blindfold from your head, trying to orient yourself.  You look back over your shoulder, and see that Matt has somehow been able to put his entire suit save the helmet on.

He looks incredible, the muscles in his arms and chest are well defined by the cut and fit of the suit, and it does little to disguise the bulge that is sitting untouched in his pants.  You rise, suddenly feeling refreshed, legs less confident beneath you.  “Daddy?” your voice is hoarse but you try and keep the tone as playful as you can.  

His head falls back, “I have to go out.” he repeats it again to himself, almost like he’s convincing himself more than you.  

“You can make the first one quick.”  You lift your shirt over your head before settling your knees on the couch, and bending over the back of it.  

“Have I not made that little cunt cum hard enough?”  You hear heavy footfalls as he steps closer to you, crude slaps filling the room as he brings a hand down on your ass again and again.  

“Please Daddy, I want you to fill me up.”  You stutter through your plea, the crack of his palm on your skin piercing your ears and forcing your pussy to clench around nothing.  

“Yeah?”  You feel him press his hips against you and you shake your ass against him hoping to draw him closer.  “I fill that beautiful pussy with my cum, come home and suck it all out of you, just to fuck more back into you pretty girl.”  He gathers a handful of hair into his hand, “I’m gonna fucking tear you apart.” 

Theres blood in your mouth, and suddenly you realize you bit your lip so hard you’re bleeding, but you continue to grind against his suit.  “Yes, please.  I want everything.” 

Suddenly he’s balls deep inside of you, you shriek in surprise and pain.  His cock nudges into your cervix as he grinds up into you, before inching out just to shove right back in.  You let your head hang between your shoulders, unable to spare your strength to hold it up anymore, his pace is building and the walls of your pussy are squelching and burning trying to accommodate the thick muscle of his cock as it pounds into you.  

He huffs and groans into the air above you, praising and degrading you all at once.  His boot nudges at your knee and you bring them closer together as he bring his foot onto the couch, allowing him to drill into you faster.  

He hits the bundle of nerves inside you a few times as you cry out for him, “Don’t stop -oh my god I’m gonna-”.  The sound of his clubs scraping the coffee table bounces around your head before you gather whats happening, the cord from between the clubs is thrown over your head.  You reach for it in shock, sitting up and bringing your back flush to his chest.  

The change in angle has you seeing stars, the deep strokes are quickly bringing you over the edge.  He grabs one of your hands and brings it to right above your pelvic bone,  “Can you feel how deep I am inside you?”  He thrusts even harder into you, and you swear you can feel your organs shift and your belly bulge under your hand.  

You nod, the cord so tight to your throat you’re afraid to speak.  “Keep your hand there while you cum, and then maybe you’ll get to feel my cock fill you up.”  He leave his hand over yours, but extends his middle finger to graze over your clit.

Just like that, you cum all over the place, body threatening to collapse at any moment.  Vision white as he continues to thrust into you, the slap of his hips the only thing your brain can focus on.  The cord tightens even further around your neck as his thrusts grow sloppy and he cums deep inside you. Even though you can’t feel it, he feels the bulge in your stomach throb as he spills rope after rope of his seed.  

He slows to a stop, loosening the cord around your neck until you can finally take a deep breath.  “That was,” you struggle through the aftershocks of your orgasm, “just wow.”

He smiles against your shoulder, placing a quick kiss to the soft skin, before running his hands over the skin of your throat, “Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head, “Not at all, but I am glad you can tell if I’m gonna pass out.”

He laughs lightly into your hair, “I meant what I said in the office.”

You turn your head to look towards him breathlessly, “huh?”

“I want more for us.  I want to be working towards marriage, towards babies.”  He sounds shy, but confident in his words, “I want to be everything you deserve.”  

You feel the steady clip of his heart at your back, and you know he can hear yours in return, “Good, I love you.” 

He nods, kissing and smiling into the crook of your neck, and even if he’s not ready to say it to you, he loves you just as much.  

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

man being a young teenager sucks yall I forgot how terrible it was 😭

part five

❝ REGISTRATION ❞

TUESDAY — JULY 17 — 12:02PM

BENTLEY, BRUCE, ASTEN, JASON, AND DICK WERE IN MANHATTAN COME NOON ON TUESDAY.

New York City was a lot different from Gotham.

Gotham was dark, and dreary, and kind of sad — Bentley had walked through the whole thing at night and was never spoken to. But New York; it was sunny and bright and happy and… full. So full that the sidewalks couldn’t hold anymore people and the roads couldn’t hold anymore cars. Everything was bright and colorful, and every single building seemed to reach impossibly high up into the sky. There were people and clothes and hairstyles Bentley had never seen before, and so, so, so much stuff. He was practically glued to the window of the car for the entire (long) drive through the city.

“Oh yeah. This is where I belong,” Asten muttered from the middle seat, between Bentley and Jason. He was peering out the windows as well, though maybe not as shell shocked as Bentley considering he’d seen stuff like that before. He pointed at Bentley’s window, a mischievous look on his face. “Want me to roll it down so you can stick your head out?” 

Bentley glared blankly over at his blue mop. “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you, it was a serious question!” Asten defended with a smirk, his green eyes shining from all the sunlight outside. 

“I’ve always loved New York City,” Dick commented from the passengers seat. He glanced back at them with a smile and glimmer in his eye too bright for words, a nearly contagious giddiness about him. “It’s just like the movies.”

“If the movies make it a cesspool of corrupt rich people, dirty trash, and bad smells, then yeah. Spitting image,” Jason replied, staring blankly out the opposite window. 

Asten elbowed Jason in the side, hard enough to make Jason whip around and jam his own elbow into Asten’s shoulder in return. 

“Ow, freaking hood,” Asten grumbled, rubbing his shoulder. “I’m taking this abuse as an open display of affection.”

“Don’t,”

Bentley smiled faintly, and Asten snickered. “Oh, I know what’s going on here.”

He reached over and poked Jason in the shoulder. “Jay is sad to see us go!”

Jason slapped Asten’s hand away, then glared at him, blankly with those (kind of scary sometimes) icy cold eyes. “I’m weeping,” He deadpanned. 

“Bentley, look outside,” Dick ordered. Bentley did, turning quickly — there were glowing billboards and screens everywhere, and everywhere meant everywhere. The buildings that towered upward on either side of them seemed to be plastered with them, all moving and changing and glowing neon colors. Even in the daytime with the sun shining, it was the brightest thing Bentley thought he’d ever seen. He wondered what this place would be like at night.

“This is Times Square,” Dick continued, and Bentley caught him smiling back at him from the front seat. “Pretty awesome, huh?”

“Whoa,” Was all he had to say. And whoa was right. As much as he’d seen since he moved into the Manor, he still thought he was discovering new colors. And nothing he’d ever seen before even slightly compared to New York City.

There were more people in Times Square than Bentley had ever seen in his entire life, all moving like an ocean. Even more than school, than the gala, than in public ever — he he never, ever, ever seen so many humans in one place, and it was incredible.

But there was one thing he didn’t like about New York City.

Driving through it took forever.

After about fifteen minutes of hardly any movement, Asten breathed in and out deeply and crossed his legs in a way that (purposefully) put them inside Jason’s personal bubble. “I hate to be that kid, B, but how much longer until we get there? I’m about to suffocate in all the golden retriever Dick and Bentley are exuding in here. And I think Jason’s plotting my demise.” 

“You’re correct,”

“GPS says we’re about twenty minutes out,” Bruce responded, glancing in the backseats for only a moment before looking back at the road. Bentley didn’t miss the little I-love-my-kids glimmer that set apart his gray irises from anyone else’s.

Okay, so Bentley didn’t hate the drive that much — he was having a blast looking through the windows like a child who’d never seen a city in his life, and listening to Jason and Asten bicker. But after the three hour mark in the car passed, and they still had barely moved, he thought he was starting to go a wee bit stir-crazy.

Fortunately for him, at three hours and seventeen minutes, they arrived at the Redwood Academy Campus.

It was separate from the bustling streets of Manhattan, situated on a giant piece of land so flat and green and pretty that it had to be fake. The buildings, somewhat like castles, somewhat like mansions, jutted out of the perfectly manicured courtyards and into the bright blue sky. (Was it bluerover here?) The fluffiest white clouds were sailing endlessly overhead, although they never seemed to cover the sun.

Bruce drove like he knew where he was going, while Bentley and the others just looked, silent. (It took a lot to silence Dick Grayson, and apparently, Redwood Academy did it.)

There were giant willow trees around the campus displaying the bright colors of summer, and sidewalks weaved through the perfect grass like rivers, going from building to building to building. There had to be at least a dozen that Bentley could see, all stone and brick and really old and cool looking. Every now and then there were fountains sprouting up out of the ground, and there was even a big pond in the center of the campus, which seemed to be what the buildings were situated around, now that Bentley was paying attention.

There were several large parking lots and directory signs right near the buildings, and Bruce took up residence in one of them, parking close to one of the biggest buildings they could see. There weren’t very many cars there — which surprised Bentley, because the school year started, like, soon.

As soon as they came to a stop in the parking lot, everyone piled out of the car. The bright sunshine was warm against Bentley’s skin, and there was a gentle breeze coming and going, making the temperature outside just right.

“I downloaded a campus map from the website. The Headmistress told me to go to the-“

“Mister Wayne,”

Everyone, Jason Todd included, jumped when the Headmistress — Headmistress McCall, Bentley remembered — seemed to materialize out of nowhere behind them. They all looked at her, wide eyed, and she got this sheepish look on her face. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Headmistress McCall; we spoke over the phone.”

She had her red hair in a tight, slicked-back top knot, and was wearing a red pencil dress that looked just like the one from the video on the Redwood Academy website. She also had these massive black heels on. (Where had she come from?)

“Yes, hello. Thank you for agreeing to give us a tour,” Bruce moved forward and held out his hand, which the Headmistress took readily.

“Of course. It’s an honor someone as renowned as yourself is considering sending their children here,” She smiled, her green irises traveling down to Bentley and Asten, who were standing side by side. (Asten could rest his elbow on Bentley’s head now, which was embarrassing. Thankfully he wasn’t.) “You must be Bentley and Asten.”

The woman held out her hand toward Bentley with an expectant expression, and after a brief moment, he shook it. “Yeah. Hi.”

She took a turn shaking Asten’s hand, too, which was equally as awkward. 

“And you must be the brothers I was informed were coming,” She smiled up at Dick and Jason, shaking their hands, too — one with a bit too much excitement, the other, barely any. (She seemed a little intimidated by Jason, actually. Maybe that was good? Dick made up for it with his enthusiastic: Hi! Dick Grayson!)

“Forgive me for popping in like that. I didn’t want you guys getting lost trying to navigate the campus,” She smiled, her green eyes flicking between them. “I’m a metahuman myself; teleportation.”

With a whoosh and a warpy, swimmy flash of light, she disappeared and reappeared a few feet to the left. It looked familiar. Really familiar.

It looked… exactly like the way Titus used to teleport. Bentley hadn’t seen him since their escape from Keene’s labs — he wondered how he was doing. Where he was. 

Bruce said something, but Bentley was too distracted thinking about Titus to hear it. 

“If you’ll follow me,” the Headmistress smiled brightly and started out of the parking lot, toward one of the many walkways around campus. “Keep in mind, you’ll see a few students here who’ve chosen to board over the summer. I already have an open dormitory chosen for you, should you choose to register, which we’ll see here in a bit.”

They rounded one of the massive stone buildings to the front, which was lined with perfectly pampered plants. “Our campus buildings here are divided up by subject, not age. For example, the Galileo building on the West side of the campus is our primary science center, which houses our science classrooms, laboratories, astronomy tower, and other science facilities, while our Herodotus building here on the East side holds all our history amenities.”

The Headmistress gestured up to the massive building they were walking by, which had the name Herodotus carved on the stone front in massive letters.

“Our Austen Building is on the North end, which is our English lecture rooms, and the Pythagoras building on the West side holds mathematics. The Shakespeare building is on the north end, as well, which houses our fine arts like theatre, music, and dancing,” She explained. “The Einsteinbuilding is where we’re going now — it holds all the schools main amenities, such as gymnasiums, the cafeteria, the libraries, computer labs, commons areas, theatres, and more.”

Bentley stared at the massive Herodotus building as they passed. What did Herodotus even mean?

“There are buildings your boys won’t have to fool with, like the Parksbuilding, which is where children under the age of eleven are housed. There are seven separate dormitory buildings here on campus — Lincoln, Luther, Hamilton, Napoleon, Washington, Aristotle, and Columbus. The best fit for your boys is the Aristotle building, so the others won’t be ones they have to stress about knowing. Ah, here we are. The Einstein building.”

They stopped at another massive stone building with a grand staircase outside. There was a giant fountain in front of it, and perfect little bushes lining the outside. The giant word Einstein was carved into it. (Bentley had never seen so many big buildings in his life.)

Headmistress McCall turned to them, clapping her hands once with a bright smile. “Let’s get this tour started, shall we?”

—

The tour was the longest tour Bentley had ever been on in his whole entire thirteen year existence. 

All the buildings looked the same — beautiful and lush. They all had an old, thin hardwood floor that was perfectly restored, and incredibly intricate wainscoting that climbed up the walls. Each light fixture was massive and detailed and bright, mostly chandeliers. Everything seemed to be larger and more expensive than life itself. Perfect. Weirdly perfect. They talked to a few students throughout, who loved the school enough to stay for summer. They even spoke to a graduate who swore by it.

Bentley and Asten were registered for the school year before five in the evening.

It took a while of sitting in the Headmistress’s office, but they did it. They each got a fancy little dark green binder to take home with the Redwood Academy crest on the front — a  shield with a lion, an eagle, and a snake. Supposedly, it had schedules, maps, lists of sports and the like inside.

“Aw, my baby brothers aren’t babies anymore!“ Dick cooed from the passengers seat of Bruce’s car, reaching back just far enough to ruffle Asten’s hair. (Bentley was too far away, or he’d have surely gotten him, too.) Asten shoved him off with a scoff.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m literally about to die if I don’t eat some food,” Asten said, completely ignoring Dick’s sentiment.

“Did you eat anything today?” Jason questioned, glancing over at Asten with that big-brother-but-also-kind-of-dad look. 

Asten leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs. “Nope.”

Jason punched him in the arm, and Asten growled, then punched him back.

“Stop doing that,” He ordered, and Asten stuck his tongue out at him. “You need food to survive.”

Asten scoffed. “Trust me, I know.”

There was a look shared between them, a knowing look, and Jason relented, ruffling Asten’s hair. He groaned, but didn’t shove him away like he did with Dick.

“Luckily, there are plenty of places to eat in New York City,” Bruce replied from the front seat, staring out the window intensely. (There were a lot of cars in New York.) “As long as I can get a parking spot.”

“You’re Bruce Wayne. Someone would probably give you their parking spot and ask you to sign it,” Asten replied, and Jason snickered.

Bentley smiled, too, watching the buildings pass outside the windows. It was official — they were coming to Manhattan in less than a week. Five days. Moving day was Saturday, when they would move into the dorms, and then, he and Asten would be in New York City all by themselves.

He never thought, in a million years, he’d be doing something like that. (But a few years ago, he’d never thought he’d be living in Wayne Manor, either.)

Something he’d never imagined doing, that turned out really, really well.

Hopefully Redwood Academy would turn out that way, too.

It was only a few minutes (which, in New York traffic, is, like, fifteen.) before Bruce found a parallel parking spot lined up perfectly in front of some old looking diner. It was on the bottom floor of a bright, greenish-blue building. There were pink and green neon lights that lined a bunch of little red and white awnings over the windows, and a giant neon sign sat right over the door that read Spoons.

Who names a diner spoons?

Again, they all climbed out. It was much louder there, and there had to be at least two dozen people on the sidewalk in front of the place at any given moment. Bentley had never seen so many people use a sidewalk in his life.

Asten climbed out of Bentley’s door behind him with his Redwood folder, then Jason came out last. 

“This place is certainly a choice, B,” Jason muttered as she shut the door, eyes flicking around on the little diner. 

Bruce shrugged. “There was a restaurant with a parking spot, so I took it.”

Bentley was too busy watching all the people pass to really listen to them. There were so many people. Couples and teenagers and old people and guys in suits and girls in next to no clothing and fancy dresses and business outfits. What made Gotham so much different? Why were there so many more people here? A few teenage boys went by on skateboards. One of them noticed Bentley staring and did a fancy trick where he flipped the board around under his feet and landed perfectly.

“You coming, little B?”

Bentley flinched when someone grabbed his shoulder, but relaxed when he looked up and realized it was just Dick with his sparkling eyes. “This city’s pretty amazing, isn’t it? A far cry from Gotham.”

“Yeah. It’s really cool. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bentley replied. 

“Jason may hate it, but I think New York is one of the best places on earth,” Dick said with a smile. They all filed into the little diner building. The interior was just another thing to add to Bentley’s never seen list.

The floors were a black and white checker, and the whole place was lined with red and white booths. There were glowing neon lights everywhere, lining the bar, the ceiling, the floors. There were big old spinning stools lining the counter, and a giant glowing jukebox on the other end of the room that was playing some old style music that Bentley first heard from Dick. Not to mention the waitresses — there were a few in the room in pink dresses with little apron things and roller skates.

Roller skates. 

Bentley would die if he ever so much as attempted to ride a roller skate.

“Welcome to Spoons! You can sit anywhere you’d like!” One of said waitresses announced as soon as they made it through the door. “A server will be with you in a moment!”

With that, the five of them took a seat in one of the empty booths near the door — Bruce, Bentley, and Dick on one side (Bentley squashed in the middle.) and Jason and Asten on the other. (Asten was against the window.)

There were six menus already standing on the table, waiting for them.

“This is a cool place,” Bentley stated, and Dick smiled down at him.

Asten put his Redwood Academy folder down on the table with a whack, flipping it open with another whack to look at the pages inside.

“Are you so excited?” Dick questioned, bumping his shoulder against Bentley’s. The teenager smiled up at him with a quick nod.

“If they think I’m waking up for breakfast at six in the morning, they are sorely mistaken,” Asten muttered, looking at a paper Bentley assumed was a schedule of sorts. “And if they think I’m going to bed at eight at night, they are also sorely mistaken.”

“Maybe you’ll actually start sleeping since you won’t have any video games,” Bentley snickered. “You do realize there aren’t video games at the school, right?”

Jason quickly leaned over and covered Asten’s ears, feigning a harsh glare in Bentley’s direction. “Don’t say that, he might die.”

“Get off of me,” Asten ordered, batting Jason’s hands away. “I don’t play them that much.”

“Tell that to your five-hundred-plus hours in grand theft auto,” 

Everyone at the table snickered, and just as Bentley was contemplating saying something else, a waitress rolled up to their table with a bright and happy: “Hi there!” That gained everyone’s attention.

All of their heads turned in tandem. Their waitress looked young — way younger than Bentley was expecting, like, Asten young. She was smiling almost blindingly bright as she dished out silverware to each of them. Her black hair was situated in tons of little braids that fell all down her back, and her deep brown eyes and skin sort of reminded Bentley of Duke.

“I’m Georgia, and a I’ll be taking care of you today. Do you know what I can get you to drink?” She asked with seriously the biggest, brightest smile Bentley had ever seen. 

She pulled a little pen and notepad out of her apron and let her eyes bounce around the table until they landed on Bruce and stuck there, and the five of them literally watched the realization of who he was seep onto her features. She blinked a few times, looked at everyone else at the booth, and then resumed her professionalism. 

“Just water, thank you,” Bruce replied with a light smile. She began to go around the table collecting drink orders, and when it got to Asten, he didn’t say anything.

Bentley glanced over at him, and he was looking at her like he’d never seen a girl in his whole entire life.

Jason kicked him under the table.

“Uh, water,” He said suddenly. Georgia smiled awkwardly, her eyes flicking around the table again. 

“I’ll have those right out for you,” She tucked her little notepad away and rolled off, and as soon as she was out of earshot, Jason, Dick, and Bentley busted out laughing.

“I think part of his brain just melted,” Dick chuckled, and Bentley laughed, too, as Asten shrank further down into the booth.

“Pelo menos eu tenho gosto,”

Bentley glanced back over toward the counter and kitchen, just in time to see Georgia disappear into another room. 

“Little Asten’s growing up,” Jason muttered, wiping a fake tear, and Asten shoved him with enough force to make him totter in the seat.

“Shut up,”

“I’m just saying,” 

Bentley tapped his fingers on the table lightly. Nico had a girlfriend, and Asten was clearly into girls… Bentley was getting older but he didn’t really care about any of that. Why was he growing up different from everybody else? Why was he growing up wrong?

Not five minutes later, Georgia came rolling back out with drinks situated nicely on a platter. (Bentley had no earthly idea how she didn’t drop them all, especially with the skates.) She slowed to a stop in front of their table with a shining smile, and immediately began handing out the cups.

Her eyes caught on Asten’s folder. “You guys go to Redwood Academy?”

Her attention was now fully on Asten, who blinked, blankly.

“Yeah, we just registered,” Bentley replied, smiling lightly. Georgia smiled back, glancing between him and Asten.

“Believe it or not, that’s where I go. Maybe I’ll see you guys around campus,” She smiled a blinding smile, pulling her notepad back out. “Are you ready to order?”

Dead silence.

“I think we need a few minutes, thank you,” Bruce smiled, and Georgia smiled back, rolling away to tend another table. 

Jason looked mischievously at Asten. “Forget how to talk?”

“Jason,”

“It’s cool, just let it go. It happens to everyone,”

Bentley glanced down at the white tabletop.

So why wasn’t it happening to him?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld ❤️

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[jmdbjk]

This really needs to be a...

Bangtan Weekly Report

They really are pulling us kicking and screaming along with them. If we choose to go, that is.

Normalizing naked Bangtan...so much more exposed skin these days. Smoking Bangtan (audible pearl clutching and gasping occurred)...vaping, whatever, we don't have to approve but it's not illegal. Cussing/swearing Bangtan... F-bombs flying from everyone EVEN JIMIN! Tattooed Bangtan... long gone are the days of using dishwashing gloves to conceal tattoos. Bangtan who wants to express themselves with even more explicit sensuality... Jimin having to forewarn us that we will see him being touched during a choreography (more pearl clutching omg). Bangtan who wants us to be more engaging and less vapid during the valuable and rare moments they choose to try to spend time with us...don't hold back Tae. Normalizing Bangtan enlisting in the military service, no matter how hard it is for us to send them off... our able-bodied sunshine:

They want to be raw... explicit... real humans. Imagine that?

They want us to be ok with them being the awesome and free artists that they WANT to be.

Army needs to grow up, act more mature and intelligent, be less alarmist, divisive and more open-minded. Still think it's scripted and fan service? Stay stuck in the past if you want, the rest of us will move on.

I know we think we are all these things because I see it on the daily everyone on their high horse on all platforms spouting their righteousness over everyone else. It's tiring y'all. Cultivate a little humility maybe? Stop judging petty, irrelevant shit.

Yoongi said so many things surrounding this album and the documentary but especially started kicking everyone in the teeth with Haegeum.

SHOUT IT FROM THE ROOFTOPS, KING!

"Interpretation is free for all, out with the nonsense, freedom of expression, could be reason for somebody's death, could you still consider that freedom?"

"If your convictions are reflected in your judgement and speculations and you believe your freedom is on the same level as others' then don't hesitate, just get on board, liberation from all that's forbidden."

"This song's simply about freeing what's forbidden."

What is the most volatile forbidden thing? Bangtan being able to date openly in public like normal people. If only we can finally set that free? Bangtan being able to touch each other and other people... hell, just STAND next to another person... without a tsunami of jealousy from the outside world. If only we could erase that toxicity.

In the MV, Yoongi's "outlaw character" proceeds to go to his living space with his bag full of money, being pursued by "law and order." In his space he has everything and is "free" but of course what kind of freedom is that? He stares at the epitome of his life: a goldfish in a water tank.

Law and order being corrupt. The outlaw coming and taking without remorse.

"Slaves to capitalism, slaves to money, slaves to hatred and prejudice, slaves to YouTube, slaves to flexin'... selfishness and greed have gone off the rails."

"Everyone's been blinded by envy and jealousy, without realizing they're putting shackles on each other."

PREACH, KING!

We are all slaves to capitalism. You can't be sitting here reading this unless you are beholden to some capitalist technology company. None of this is free. But we can choose not to be slaves of hatred and prejudice.

My thought for the day (something very esoteric)...Yoongi killing Billboard with his chopsticks. BTS is here to stay motherfuckers. And they're gonna eat while they are here.

[akajustmerry]

I had to wait for like an hour for a ride under a 20ft billboard of johnny depp, it was scary.

(even though amber heard likes israel, i now just hate both of them, my hatred for johnny depp hasn't diminished)

honestly, lumping someone in the same category as their literal abuser so quickly is a bit of a red flag. advocating for amber heard or indeed anyone's right not to be abused, and to be allowed to speak about their abuse without retribution was never about liking her or agreeing with her beliefs (which i couldn't give a fuck about). broad-based organising and advocacy, the most effective organising and advocacy, means working broadly toward a future better for everyone regardless of their individual beliefs. i am not telling you you're wrong to hate her. feel however you want to feel idc. but advocating for human rights isn't about liking or hating anyone. no permanent friends, no permanent enemies. amber's support of isnotreal is honestly so immaterial because every issue we're talking about when we talk about it; Palestinian occupation, abusers weaponising court systems to further abuse their victims, misogyny, corrupt governance - are still worth fighting against regardless of whether you like or agree with her. there's no such thing as a perfect victim. even people with the most vile beliefs that literally contradict their own struggles and marginalisation, those beliefs are not a forfeit of their human rights. advocating for people's autonomy isn't about liking them.

[cyarsk52-20]

While this might sound like (just) a fandom post for Taylor Swift, it’s not.

It’s a remark about how social media sways public opinion and how the patriarchy is still alive and well in American society today.

If you’re not listening to Taylor, you cannot objectively claim a lack of talent. You cannot objectively claim she’s overrated. And you definitely cannot claim to not like her “genre” (unless you listen solely to like death metal or trap).

Taylor has recorded 10 studio albums in 17 years. She has fluidly moved between country, pop, rock, synth, hip hop, folk, alternative, and indie genres.

She has written or co-written 243 songs, some in collaboration with or even for such names like: Little Big Town, Miley Cyrus, Sugarland, The Civil Wars, and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

In her 200 million records sold, Taylor has won 324 awards, including 12 Grammys, 23 MTV Video Music Awards, 40 American Music Awards, 40 Billboard Music Awards, 12 Country Music Awards, and an Emmy.

She is the most-awarded artist of all times at the AMAs and BMAs, and she ties with Frank Sinatra, Stevie Wonder, and Paul Simon for most Album of the Year Grammys.

Swift was “the most streamed artist of 2023 on Spotify, Apple Music, and Amazon Music; the first act to place number one on the year-end Billboard top artists list in three different decades (2009, 2015 and 2023); and the first living artist to simultaneously chart five albums in the top 10 of the Billboard 200.”

Rolling Stone described Taylor as “a songwriting savant with an intuitive gift for verse-chorus-bridge architecture,” and scholars and critics have compared her to literary figures such as Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, and John Keats, as well as to modern songwriters such as Bob Dylan and Paul McCartney.

Over 20 universities include a Taylor Swift course in their catalog, including Harvard, Mizzou, Berkeley, Stanford, and Brigham Young.

Taylor has acted in five movies, headlined six tours, and can play guitar and piano. She has developed, written, and directed several of her own music videos.

She has influenced the music business by revitalizing vinyl records, championing artists’ rights on streaming services, and changing the way label contracts are written. Her journey to take back her intellectual property by re-recording her first six albums is one of the best business and personal decisions any artist has made regarding rights.

She’s not just a talented performer and savvy businesswoman. She is also very human and fights for things she believes in. Taylor speaks up for the rights of women, LGBTQ, and artists.

She has donated millions to charitable relief and philanthropic efforts, as well as to the arts. She generously gave millions of her revenue in bonuses to her Eras Tour team.

She was sexually assaulted by a DJ in Colorado and reported it. The DJ was terminated and sued Taylor for $3 million in damages, so she counter-sued for a symbolic $1 and spent over two years in a legal battle that ended in a jury deciding in her favor. Since then, Taylor has been even more active in fighting for the rights for women to be heard.

She genuinely enjoys her fans and has fun leaving clues and hints in her music to keep her fans engaged and like they’re part of the story. She always seems sincerely delighted to be doing what she’s doing.

Her 17 years in the industry have proven her talent. It shows that she’s earned every fan she has and dollar she’s made. (And if you think she’s only country-pop, then you need to spend a day with Folklore or Evermore.)

If you have a negative reaction towards her as a person, it’s because our society still goes after successful women in a way that men avoid. The media turns on celebrities - especially women - who dare to do things like countersue a sexual assault case, speak against corrupt politicians, or not laugh at misogyny.

I will never apologize for being enchanted by this one. She is a poet, and she’s possibly the most self-aware artist I’ve ever heard speak. 🫶🏻

(ETA: I did not pay for this post. I did not anticipate the shares. And I wasn’t out to seek attention. Why strangers feel the need to message me rude things because I posted on my personal page is beyond me. This is why we can’t have nice things.)

Author: Megan K Hall

[k1nky-fool]

Truth of a Parallel

Part 1: The Parallel Identities

Masterlist

Miguel O’hara x OC: Elisa Hannen

Pairing: M/F

Per Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: Starting off strong, the same way I started Least Sane Moments, barely edited and proofread, hot off a bet that I wouldn’t make a character to fuck the large dad man, that I clearly lost. No beta, we die like my sleep schedule. This also starts up fast, so buckle up.

Taglist: @gatnalien​, @sevikasstressball​, @musicmansauxcord​, @2downbad4dilfs, @its-paprika​ 

-Miguel- 

"Hey, uh, Miguel? You should check the network." Lyla caught his attention, along with the alert that popped up on all his screens. Someone had just jumped universes. 

"Who is it?" 

"We just barely caught where they were going. The signal was so faint, but they were heading to Universe 4167." 

"Who's the local spider?" He asked. 

"It's a spider-woman, the locals call her "Widow." She's definitely still masked in this universe. 4167 doesn't always have the best published opinions of her, but popular opinions are quite a bit different. She seems to be responsible, if not, just a little playful and taunting, so she's just your type." Lyla jabbed at him. 

"We've already run into twelve different Widows, so what's a thirteenth?" 

"This one seems to be a little more spunky than you're used to." Lyla warned. 

Miguel opened the portal and shrugged her off. It was a spider-woman called Widow, and she was masked, so he had no idea what she looked like off duty, but her spider suit was black with a silver spider on her chest with legs that ran down her body and over her shoulders and back. 

The published news didn't like her which meant the police probably didn't like her. But the popular opinion was good, so she was dealing with either widely known corruption, particularly nasty enemies and had to use excessive force, or she was just that vicious of a vigilante. 

4167 was a dark looking universe. This was clearly New York, like most spider people he's met, but either it was always like this, or it had just been a particularly rainy week and the overcast still hung over the city. Every colored light had a bright contrast against the concrete scene, but they all shined off the pavement like silver. 

Miguel would have to either find this Widow, or he'd know when his rogue cosmos traveler started kicking up some trouble. 

"You hear anything, Lyla?" 

"Widow's location is unknown, but a train was just derailed." Lyla pointed at a newsfeed on a billboard showing a train car that had been knocked off the track and was now hanging off the track bridge for dear life. 

Miguel followed to the location and found that a Doctor Octopus was searching through the train for someone. He didn't have long until Widow herself was on the scene, which probably meant she was on the train, and he was looking for her in that train car. 

Widow stuck her web to the building across the track and made a clean, high speed, dart into the train through the broken window. The Octopus was kicked out the other side of the train, breaking glass and blasting metal with her strength. He was lodged into the stone of the building he hit. 

Miguel was left stunned at the maneuver. Either she had intense senses, or she was calculating physics on another level. Both not out of the ordinary for some spiders, but her mix of strength, grace, and precision were clearly marks of a spider-woman well within the prime of her spider career. She was experienced, and at the top of her game. She'd make a good addition to the team. 

Widow put her foot down on his chest and webbed down all his mechanized arms so he couldn't move. 

"Oscar, this is embarrassing. Really? You're looking for me on a train? With hundreds, neigh, thousands of people watching?" She asked like a mother scolding her kid. 

"I needed your attention." He mumbled. 

"Well, you got it! So what was so important that you absolutely had to destroy a whole train car and traumatize who knows how many people on a Sunday evening?" 

"My equipment picked something up. Something has breached us from beyond this universe." He said. "I figured, since you have… experience, you might have a better chance dealing with this." 

Experience? 

Widow looked at him with a confused look. "What is it?" 

"I'm not exactly sure, but I am sure that it's a person." He said. "He broke through a portal at my lab." 

It's a rudimentary attempt at building a gateway across universes. Someone was just starting up, had an interesting experiment and is now probably stuck here. 

Widow gave an accepting "hmm" as she stood. "And you couldn't have taken like, one hostage up the Empire building, told me the news, and then dropped them so I'd have to save them and you could get away?" 

"I was just looking for you-" 

"Yeah, well you found legal trouble, so you're getting arrested." Widow picked up his metal arms, one by one, wrapping them in her web until she could pry him out of the stone wall and drop him in front of all the cops that had gathered around. The fire trucks were able to start helping people out of the train, and Widow was off on her way. 

Miguel began to follow her to hopefully catch up and explain the situation, but as soon as he thought he was getting close, she was gone. The street they were swinging along, was only filled with the sounds of the public below. 

At least until a sharp pain in his ribs and jaw cracked through his bones and he was hurled into an unfinished office building, shattering the glass and hitting a stack of metal pipes that all hit the concrete with head-splitting clanging and ringing. 

Widow had hit him with that same kick she used on the Octopus. Honestly, he was impressed that Oscar hadn't stopped breathing like he had. 

She gave him a moment to gather his brain cells off the floor before she calmly walked through the window she'd broken. "No way you're what came through Oscar's portal." 

"No." He tried to make his voice sound like that hadn't hurt at all, but her chuckle meant he probably failed. "I'm Spider-Man from Earth 928B. There's been a cosmic disturbance that's opened pathways for smart enough people to cross through universes." 

At the very least she wasn't threatened by him anymore. "So you're the lone ranger, catching all the smart, bad-guys that figured out how to jump across universes?" 

"I'm not the only one." He said. "But right now I'm here for whoever decided to pay you a visit here on Earth 4167." 

"4167 huh?" She wondered. "And… do these different spider people have their own versions of the… people I've met." 

"Some have similar friends and enemies." He said, "We really should find this guy." 

"Just humor me, Spider-Man." She said calmly, stopping him in his tracks with a kind hand held up. "I can tell you're like me, but… have any of your spider people met aliens from their own universe, but not their world." 

That was an odd question, but meeting new spiders was always weird. "I guess some have fought a couple aliens. Why?" 

"I just like extraterrestrial threats." She joked and brushed him off. "Now, where's this invader?" 

"No idea." Miguel admitted. "But based on what your friend Oscar said, I think they're here by accident. Sounds to me like he was running a test and the path of least resistance was through Oscar's gate at his lab. Do you know where it is?" 

"I can find it." Widow shrugged and hopped right out the shattered window. Miguel followed her closely this time. 

"How long is it gonna take for you to find his lab?" Miguel asked. 

"I was gonna go screw with his girlfriend, because she definitely knows where it is, and I know where to find her." She said. 

"Is she a civilian?" Miguel asked, somewhat concerned. 

"No idea." Widow stuck to the side of the apartment building and began climbing until she found the window she was looking for by the fire escape. 

This was the first window that Widow didn't immediately shatter. He didn't see what happened, but she got the window open with no problem, so it likely wasn't locked. 

Now it also made sense with her general vibe. She was a stealth spider like Peter from 90214. Even looking directly at her shoes, he couldn't determine any sound coming from her steps. His were quiet, but still barely audible to his own senses. This spider-woman was completely erasing any evidence of her existence from the apartment. 

Eventually she stopped and stood in the doorway, gesturing vaguely for him to stay put. 

A woman made a very startled yelp sound from inside the room and now Miguel realizes that Widow is doing a little shadowy lurking move on her target. 

"You know it's possible to just knock on my door, I'll let you in." The woman said. 

"Sorry, I'm coming from a derailed train. I bet you don't want it to be public knowledge that you're regularly conspiring with a known vigilante." Widow pointed out. "By the way I brought a friend." 

She stepped to the side and let Miguel step into view, only to be met with a wide eyed young woman letting out an alarmed "woah."

"He's a spider vigilante from a different universe. Apparently someone's crossed through Oscar's portal." Widow explained. 

The woman's eyes were still on Miguel, but now she was much less shocked and more understanding. "So, how'd Elisa rope you into this?" 

"He roped me into it!" Widow defended, taking the mask off her head in exasperation. 

This was the first he was seeing of her face, and she wasn't at all like the other twelve Widows. Most of them were older than him, but at least four were just teenagers. Elisa was around twenty-five years old, her hair was cut at about her shoulder and was either naturally purple in this universe, or a good dye job. But what stood out, even in competition for attention with the scar on her pale cheek, were nearly startling yellow eyes.

The other woman nudged at him, pulling him out of getting hit with that suddenly. "Buddy, she's a whole different kind of trainwreck." 

"Myra!" Elisa snapped. 

"Anyway, nice to meet you. I'm Myra Jameson." 

"MJ…" Miguel pieced together. 

He forgot how strange that might look to her. "How'd you know I went by-" 

"Can we find the damn lab already?!" Elisa interrupted. 

MJ went silent, staring like she was about to smack the attitude out of her. “Which lab?” 

“Oscar’s.” Miguel answered. 

MJ nodded. “What was he doing?” 

“He said he had equipment that activated to let something in, so it would have to be somewhere with a lot of space for that equipment.” Elisa figured. 

“Not necessarily.” Miguel said, taking his watch off to show Elisa for a moment. “That’s my ride across universes. It also stops me from glitching while in other universes.” 

“Do you really think he could have something this small?” Elisa asked, handing it back to him. “I don’t even know if cell phones are this small yet.” 

Miguel knew universes had many different levels of advancement in technology, but just by looking around what he assumed was MJ’s apartment, either she was broke, or technology was still mostly if not entirely analog in this universe. 

“I don’t know. it might still be slightly larger, but still portable.” Miguel said. “For this universe, I wouldn't be surprised if his equipment is more of a portable set up.” 

“Is there any way to figure out where this guy came from?” MJ asked, making Miguel wonder. 

“Maybe.” He said. “Lyla, is there any way to track anomalies in this universe?” 

“Barely managed to scrape together a report on Widow from news coverage, you think I can track an anomaly here?” Lyla scoffed. 

“What about radio chatter?” Miguel asked. “Anything about earthquake victims, or homes destroyed by anomalies.” 

Lyla went quiet again, her small, holographic form giving him a strange look as she ran through radio chatter. “Congrats, you’re a lucky man, Miguel.” She deadpanned. “There’s a hotspot of strange glitches. The cops don’t know what to make of them.” 

The location came up in his HUD. “Thanks, Lyla. Does this look familiar?” Miguel put the location up in the watch’s hologram. It was a shipping yard by the Hudson, and MJ seemed to know. 

“Yeah, that’s where we met.” MJ confirmed. 

“Great, let’s go.” Elisa pulled her mask back on and Miguel followed her. “Thank you, MJ.”

Elisa was quick to start swinging to the dock, and Miguel wasn’t having too much trouble keeping up. 

“You get weird stuff like this in your universe?” Elisa asked. 

“Most of the weird stuff in my universe comes from the spider people.” Miguel said. 

“How many of us are there?” 

“Infinite universes, infinite spider people.” Miguel said. “But we only have about a hundred in my universe at any time. Our total numbers are somewhere in the five hundreds.”

“You just recruited them?” she asked. 

“If a spider has skills we can use, we tend to bring them in.” He said. “Impress me, and I’ll get you a watch of your own.” 

Elisa chuckled. “Any chance a watch might tell me Miguel’s last name?” They stopped on a roof and her mask was giving him a teasing look since she caught Lyla calling him by name. He towered over her, but she wasn’t even stepping back at the invasion of personal space. “Or do I have to wait until you’re not so shy?” 

“Miguel O’hara.” He introduced, letting his mask scan off his head. 

She removed her own mask, and unceremoniously looked him up and down. “Elisa Hannen.” 

A loud sound of twisting metal startled them both, but Elisa had her mask on before his had even scanned back on. The sound had thankfully just come from a very deformed and shipping container falling out of precarious balance on another twisted container. The source of this destruction was in one of the containers that had been completely blown open like a popped balloon as if it had been frozen half way through the explosion. 

“Does this look like someone’s first steps into multiverse travel?” Elisa asked. 

Miguel found the scorched remains of some kind of portal array. It looks like Oscar was already trying to build a gate, but someone had used it as an anchor to get theirs to connect to this universe. But it looks like Oscar’s equipment couldn’t handle the energy, and the explosion caused this disruption. “Yea, I know exactly what happened.” 

The hologram set the scene before the explosion. Oscar noticed his array beginning to spark to life, and as the portal began sputtering to life, he was smart enough to get the hell out of dodge before something worse happened. The portal began to take form and Miguel knew that knowing who stepped through that portal would be vital to finding them. 

As soon as Miguel recognized the holographic figure, his heart dropped. 

Clara Kassidy. 

She was a rare find in the AHP, and one of the worst to ever fight. And this one looked like a particularly intense opponent. Miguel turned to Elisa to tell her the bad news, but if Miguel was worried, then Elisa was horrified. She had taken off her mask to be able to breathe, and her eyes just scanned the hologram in an absent-minded movement. 

“You know her?” Miguel figured. 

“Not exactly.” Elisa’s voice struggled to sound strong as she slowly began to regain her breath. “You know where she came from?” 

Miguel turned back to the hologram as it finished the scene with Clara noticing the portal ray was shaking and falling apart. She ran off before the explosion caused the wreckage that currently surrounded them. 

“So… who is she?” Elisa asked. 

If Elisa didn’t know who she was, then why was she so scared seeing her face? 

Miguel took her back up to the roof, out of view of any police that might be arriving on scene once they start investigating. 

“Her name is Clara Kassidy. She’s an extremely rare variant of the host of the symbiote, Carnage.” Miguel began to explain, showing Elisa pictures and reports of the symbiote across the AHP. “In most universes, Carnage finds the serial killer, Cletus Kasady, which progresses to a canon event.” 

“So what’s Clara’s deal?” Elisa asked. 

“Clara Kassidy is simply a parallel identity to Cletus Kasady, but we have only ever come across two Claras.” Both of which shared universes with a Widow Spider-Woman. “Elisa, if there’s more than one Clara Kassidy on the loose in this universe right now, I need to know.” 

“What makes her more dangerous than Cletus?” Elisa asked, not giving in to his questioning. 

“She wasn’t just a serial killer.” Miguel said, “Clara was a very accomplished physicist. She used her status and accomplishments to deflect any suspicion that she was the serial killer prowling the streets at night, but she was using technological advancements she’d make to erase any evidence of her crimes. Because of the delay in the investigation, she was the suspected murderer of eighty-nine people. Eventually she gets caught, but when Carnage comes to Earth, it finds her in her maximum security prison, and it bonds with her, creating one of the most dangerous opponents any spider has ever faced. We know of two universes with a Clara Kassidy, but only one of them still has a spider.” 

Elisa didn’t look any less scared. “There is a Clara Kassidy in my universe. She’s currently the head physicist at Oscorp because the last head physicist went insane and hooked his brain up to metal octopus arms.” 

“Elisa, we have to get back up.” Miguel finally caved. He really didn’t think even the two of them could take on Carnage, especially if there were about to be two of them. 

“Miguel, if what you’re saying is true, then she’s an active serial killer right now.” Elisa argued. “If that isn’t my problem, then you are definitely not my problem.” 

“One of them doesn’t have Carnage, the other one does. I’d say the one with the spider-killing symbiote is a much bigger problem.” Miguel argued back. 

“One of them is currently killing around eighty-nine people in my universe!” 

“And the other will kill hundreds!” Miguel snapped with finality. Elisa stared at him like he should try again and speak to her correctly this time. “Look, we have a better shot at dealing with both of them if we go get backup.” he leveled with her, opening the portal back to his universe where they would have many more resources to figure this out. 

Elisa let out a long breath. “Alright, fine. Let’s go.” 

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Honestly as someone who was a massive Britney fan in the 2000s and watched what felt like the entire world tear her apart infront of me, I learned long ago to not need validation from others, especially a corrupt industry to love the things I want to love.

That said I did used to find myself getting too worked up over things going on with or being done to bts and this time last year that billboard article would have really gotten under my skin, but now I just cannot find it in me to care. I feel like chapter 2 has helped me regain a healtheir fan perspective with them and I just want to enjoy the boys and what they do and that be that.

I used to lurk on a pop forum in my country and I'd watch them call army "mass buyers" and "bot streams" just to turn around the next day and organise their own forum wide buying and streaming campaigns (including vpn) to help artists they approve of chart. Literally all music fans do the same thing, it's quite laughable how hypocritical all these people always are.

If I could gift anything to people who still get stressed about this stuff, it would be to reach a similar place, where focusing on your enjoyment of what the members are doing is enough. At the end of the day the rest of it is just noise.

*

[toastingpencils37]

List of Ninjago City events that have and have not caused power outages.

This is mainly going to be a list with a few analyses & theories dropped here and there.

I am listing this chronologically by season, but not DR, mainly because during the events in Episodes 1 & 20, it is not clear if there was any power outages or not.

This list is specifically events impacting Ninjago City, so events such as the Preeminent attacking Stiix is not going to be listed.

If I have missed events that you feel are important to list, feel free to let me know! I will fix it and credit you on the catch.

Season 1

Great Devourer Attack: No power outage, based on the TVs and everything still being on

Season 2

Stone Army Attack (Day Ninjago Stood Still): No power outage, based on Gayle Gossip being able to broadcast on the news that everyone should evacuate.

Overlord Attack: Power outage. No building lights shown during this time. Power outage appears to be caused by weird Overlord magic opposed to something being actually knocked out in the Grid.

Season 3:

Storm Farm: Power outage. Probably most obvious one, based on there being a whole episode where the end goal is the ninja to take out Ninjago City's power corrupted by the Overlord. Possibly longest lasting outage in the show, with it being confirmed to have gone on for days by the angry citizens. At this point, it is confirmed that Ninjago City has one source of power. The Storm Farms are probably still used after Season 3, but it isn't that hard to believe that Ninjago City decided to use other sources for their power grid after this point as well.

Season 6:

Ninjago City Being Split and Pieces Starting to Float: No power outage for whole City. Gayle Gossip and NGTV news is shown broadcasting about the issue. Areas that got split and floated away probably lost power though, due to literally being disconnected from the grid.

Season 7:

Forward Time Blade: Brief power outage (if I'm remembering correctly). Power went off for a couple seconds and then came back on, and in the Bounty's case, sent alarms going off.

(Note about Present Getting Messed With in the Finale: Even though power is confirmed to be gone, I'm not counting this as either a power outage or no power outage, because the present was changed to not have electronics whatsoever)

Season 8:

Emperor Garmadon Attack: No power outage. Billboards are still shown lit up and everything

Season 9:

Emperor Garmadon's Reign: No power outage. Despite the City being a wreck, lights & TVs are still shown to be on.

Season 10:

Oni Attack: Power Outage. It is shown that when the Oni tendrils gets close to lights, and almost everything else electrical, they get shut off. Like the Overlord attack of Season 2, nothing in the grid is actually knocked out, but the power outage is initiated by magical means.

Season 11:

Aspheera Attack: No power outage. Despite fire balls being everywhere, power still appears to be on everywhere.

Preeminent Attack (Kaiju Protocol): No power outage. Despite buildings getting absoutely battered from the Preeminent's impacts, building lights are still shown to be on. And when PIXAL plugs herself into the electrical generator, there are not any effects actually shown.

Season 12:

Prime Empire Initiation: No power outage. This may not be important to add, but for a shockwave affecting electronics, it noticeably only turned off video games for a split second, then reprogrammed them as Prime Empire.

Unagami Attack: No noticeable power outage. Borg Tower still has power functioning, but that could just be Borg Tower. We see nothing indicating that power is out for the rest of the City.

Season 14:

Wojira Pulse (Episode 2): No noticeable power outage. We see the shock wave hit the city, but don't see the effects. But based on how it affected the Monastery, which was also hit, electricity was not affected at all. Only water. (Probaby due to Kalmaar trying to wake up Wojira while she only had the Wave amulet)

Wojira Attack: Power outage. In the beginning of the attack, we see the lights and everything still on. But as the attack proceeds, we also see lights flicker and die out, and at the end of the attack, little to no lights still on.

Season 15:

Shockwave From Draining Nya's Power: Power outage. And it's an obvious one. We see the power go right after the shockwave hits certain parts of the City, with building lights going completely black. One strange thing to note however is that the Monastery's power is not shown to be affected in the aftermath. First most believable circumstance was that the shockwave had not gained enough power yet to knocked power out. Second most believable circumstance is that the shockwave briefly knocked the power out for a second or two, and then rebooted quickly.

Overlord Attack: Power outage. Like Season 2's attack, the outage was caused by magical means, with the temple emitting a radiation that targeted electrical devices.

I honestly wanted the make this mainly to show how strong Ninjago City's power grid appears to be. Also, it appears that usually when there is a power outage, the Overlord is in some way involved.

I was originally going to make a short post about the Overlord, and then decided in the shower to do a whole list. And in a few days, I'll probably start a rewatch of the entire Ninjago show just to look for boats, and then post the first list in a few weeks. Which I also thought about doing while in the shower.

[edgepunk]

Okay so, some of the SM2 dust settled and I'm not gonna do a full breakdown of the story, I just wanna express some general feelings I've had.

I think, and call me crazy, that there was a lot more corporate meddling hence some of the very questionable choices - Miles' suit with Adidas shoes. Like. I saw someone call the suit a "walking billboard" and I couldn't agree more. Not to mention they introduced it at the most inappropriate time during a fucking apocalypse. And he called it a "Miles Morales original" even tho the entirety of his standalone game was all about stepping out of Peter's shadow. I get they were most likely working on the games at the same time, but do the writing teams not communicate with each other? Now SM:MM feels almost obsolete because of that line. This whole scene was an advertisement and it almost ruins the moment when Peter opens up to Miles. What the hell was the point?

The whole game feels...off. And that's mainly because most of the writers were different people, you can check it on IMBD. The first game felt like a passion project, this game felt more like they were going through a checklist of "big things" that needed to happen. Like, I'm not saying it's bad, because the game has a lot of great moments, but it's not on the same level as the first one. Like I said, it feels more corporate while the first game was clearly more of "okay we're gonna give you the IP and see what happens" and since the first game was such a success, they've had more suits breathing down their necks. I wouldn't put it past Sony that they've had them on a tighter leash. Because that's how it happens in the entertainment industry - a passion project becomes successful, the suits/investors see an opportunity to earn more money, give the creatives less freedom, and that's how we usually get the generic Hollywood slop.

I don't hate the game's story, it just feels clunky and less heartfelt compared to the first game. You can especially feel it during the third act, there was barely any breathing room and the player kept getting bombarded by big moments that were difficult to digest. The story needed to be a couple of hours longer, it felt undercooked and things kept happening too fast. It's still hard for me to believe that the events of the game happened in the span of a few days. Peter's corruption felt too fast too. Compare it to Otto's slow descent into villainy. Yeah. Why not make the events in the span of two-three weeks? Why days? To me, it's such an odd choice.

And a lot of relationships felt underdeveloped too - especially Harry and Norman's, which was supposed to be important to the story. Then, Norman suddenly calls Peter his son even though they barely interacted? And maybe I missed it (or forgot), but I haven't seen MJ and Peter talk about the fact that he almost killed her when he was out of control? < you can dispute this, because I genuinely can't recall them having a conversation about this. In fact, I forgot a lot of things, because too many things happened in this game.

tl;dr - story isn't bad, it needed more time in the oven and less Adidas advertisement

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: West Coast Avengers #38: REDEMPTION

November, 1988

The West Coast Avengers

In their greatest battle ever --

-- against THE DEFILER!

Really? Their greatest battle ever?

Is that what we’re going with?

Also, hi, Mockingbird. Hi, Iron Man.

You back on the team? Is the Redemption you two making up with the Avengers?

No.

This is a fill-in issue, set nebulously Sometime. Sometime before Iron Man quit because of Armor Wars. Sometime after Hank rejoined the team as Dr Pym. But also Sometime when Moon Knight wasn’t on the team. Which is an impossible time but maybe Moony had an errand to tend to.

The issue was written by Dan Chichester and Margaret Clark instead of Englehart.

When Englehart is forced from the book, the official reason is that he was getting behind on deadlines. Having a fill-in issue does sort of support that. Although Englehart himself claims that new EIC DeFalco didn’t like him and gave the book to John Byrne as a favoritism thing.

But this is not the time to get into that. Not when we have the West Coast Avengers’ Greatest Battle Ever.

This issue isn’t totally without context. It opens with the West Coast Avengers (Hawkeye, Wonder Man, the Vision, Scarlet Witch, and Mantis) grimly flying in a Quinjet. Maybe on a quest to help Mantis get her memory back. Maybe on their way back from their part in Evolutionary War.

And Wonder Man, looking exceptionally mulleted today muses about the downbeat mood the team is under since they split up.

Wonder Man: “Boy, things are sure different than they used to be. It doesn’t seem that long ago when we were a real team. Teamwork was the only way we could have beaten the Defiler... the only way that boy Mike could have gained -- REDEMPTION.”

FILL-IN ISSUE!

Mike (that guy in the black vest is Mike) THWAMs that ABSOLUTELY GIANT ARM with a trash can lid and tries to run to safety with Susan (red shirt girl). They need to tell someone what “he’s up to!” Maybe some Avengers. Some Avengers have been flying around the area.

But Mike trips on a pipe and smashes his head on a dumpster. And he’s so woozy that the ABSOLUTELY GIANT MAN catches up.

Defiler: “Now, little ones -- you both owe me -- and it’s about time I collect!”

He grabs and hoists both of them by their necks.

But luckily there really were some random (West Coast) Avengers in the area, just as rumored.

Tigra and Wonder man show up in the random alley and say “ordinary creeps like you we eat for breakfast!” so tell him to let the guy and girl go.

So the Defiler throws the kids aside and beats one motherfucker with another motherfucker.

But after smashing the two Avengers, the Defiler feels drained. While the Avengers are still stunned, he grabs Mike and Susan and drags them off toward a Corruption of Innocence feat. the Defiler billboard.

The billboard becomes a swirling green portal and the Defiler yeets Susan and then Mike into it.

While Susan flies in clean, Mike gets snagged on one of the billboard lights. When Tigra and Wonder Man recover and rejoin with Dr Pym, Iron Man, Hawkeye, and Mockingbird, they spot a chain poking out of the billboard.

Iron Man and Wonder Man yank Mike out of the billboard.

Although, we get a little return to Wonder Man being a dick to Iron Man specifically when Iron Man can’t pull Mike free by himself.

Wonder Man: “Fancy suit not up to the job, Iron Man? Let me give you a real man’s hand!”

Mike is covered in yellow-orange chunky goo but he seems okay aside from that. He insists that they need to save Susan because he got her into this.

And what’s this?

Hard core music. 

HEAVY METAL -scare chord-

That’s what the redemption in the title is about. Mike needs redemption. For getting Susan into hard core music.

Lol. Roflmao.

In fairness, his favorite band happened to be hiding a dark secret. And Mike introduced Susan to the Defiler and got them both jobs as roadies for him.

Their friends started going missing and they didn’t realize why until they caught the Defiler yeeting someone into a portal. And that’s what happened today and why they were fleeing.

Hawkeye asks Dr Pym his science opinion and based on nothing, Hank spells out a theory where the Defiler is yeeting people into another dimension in exchange for energy but that the people are probably still alive. FOR NOW.

He’s right but its based on zero backing evidence.

Mike says there’s another concert this very night so they gotta save his thousands of fans.

The (West Coast) Avengers agree to go fight the guy. It’s what they do. But they tell Mike that obviously they’re not going to bring a civilian into it just because he feels bad about getting his girlfriend into the wrong genre of music.

They leave him but he determines to follow anyway.

The West Coast Avengers hit the concert and find that the Defiler is ready for them. An energy barrier stops them from getting too close. And that wily hard core rocker starts sucking the audience into dimensional portals.

Blue grass would never do this.

Since they can’t get through the energy dome, the West Coast Avengers do something I do honestly wish people would try more often when big domes come up in stories.

They just go under it.

They dig into the ground and pop up behind the stage.

Iron Man even gets back at Wonder Man because the Silver Centurion armor is better at tunneling than Wonder Man is.

I have no idea why they’re on this dick waving contest.

Anyway, dig a tunnel. Sneak into the concert. Yeah, and then Wonder Man decks the Defiler. Just fucking punches him across the entire venue.

Meanwhile, the West Coast Avengers take out the screens turned dimensional portals.

Iron Man, rescuing some audience members: “Let me help steer you kids straight -- you can’t let yourselves get sucked into just anything, you know!”

You’re such a nerd, Tony.

But not as big a nerd as Hank Pym.

Scraggin’ flies?

Y’know what? I’m not going to criticize. I adore too much Hank keeping a tiny baseball glove in his pocket in case he needs to make it big to catch something.

I love his magical pockets containing literally whatever.

Since Mockingbird can’t effectively fight the Defiler or knock down dimensional portals, she’s directing people to the exit. So she’s the one that spots Mike trying to sneak into the concert to be part of things.

She tells him to fuck off so he doesn’t get in the way but Iron Man shows up and tells Mike to fuck right back in because he’s essential to saving the day.

Up in the stadium seating, Tigra mocks the Defiler as a slow, clumsy, easy target and yeah she does manage to agile her way out of taking follow up hits. But when Wonder Man flies in to trade blows, the Defiler socks him and boasts that he’s visited other dimensions and drained the energy of their innocents. Its made him strong, donchaknow.

Over at Dr Pym, Iron Man, Mike, and Mockingbird, Dr Pym has a plan. BASED ON SCIENCE.

Since Mike went through one of these dimensional thingers, he might have energy clinging to him. And if that’s the case, he can be used as a key to open up the way for the West Coast Avengers.

And since Mike needs REDEMPTION for listening to heavy metal, he agrees to help.

Dr Pym gets a small piece of rope from his pocket which he embiggens into a bigger piece of rope so Iron Man can anchor the group. And then Mike, Mockingbird, and Dr Pym jump on in.

You’d think they’d take some of their bigger guns to go into an unknown dimension that eats people. But Wonder Man and Tigra are fighting the Defiler, Iron Man is anchoring the others so they don’t get stuck. And Hawkeye is contributing nothing.

Team Pym, Mockingbird and Mike find themselves drawn to an unearthly glow in the distance. Hank speculates that its the Defiler’s main battery and that its drawing energy out of them even at this distance AND drawing them closer.

Dr Pym, Mockingbird, and Mike find that all the captured fans and also hi Susan were trapped in some kind of goo. Which Hank calls an energy parasite. Because he’s just jumping to correct conclusions today.

Mockingbird starts slapping goo to free the folks and Hank PULLS OUT A GIANT-SIZED CHAINSAW!

I know that he can grow things as big as he likes but, like, isn’t that too big to handle? If you slip, you’re gonna cut an innocent person in half, Hank.

But apparently everything goes great.

Since everyone is too drained to walk back to the portal before it closes, Hank grows A GIANT SKATEBOARD FOR THEM ALL TO RIDE ON.

Sometimes comics, even fill-in comics, are great, actually.

Iron Man almost hears Hank’s call on the other side of the portal and yanks the giant rope to pull everyone to safety.

With all his batteries loose, the Defiler starts feeling weak.

He tries to stop Iron Man from hauling people free but Wonder Man and Tigra start kicking the shit out of him.

When the skateboard full of people is pulled loose, the portal starts going nuts. Trying to suck in anyone it can.

And the Defiler decides ‘Welp, time to mosey onto a new dimension’ but Mike gets his REDEMPTION for his evil, sinful decision to bring heavy metal into his sweet innocent girlfriend’s life by tackling the Defiler so he gets sucked into his own portal.

The Defiler: “I can’t go back... dead world... nothing to feed... to drain...”

I’m sure we’ll neverrrrrr see him again.

No, seriously. Villains from fill-ins don’t reappear as often. And this is the Defiler’s first and onliest appearance.

I won’t say he couldn’t be used again in an interesting way but there’s not a lot to him.

After everything settles down, Wonder Man muses that the people rescued from the Defiler were lucky.

Mockingbird: “Luck had nothing to do with it... that kid risked a lot to help us.”

Hawkeye: “Good for all of us there are some things you just can’t corrupt.”

I mean. Yeah, I guess?? He did risk a lot, going into the billboard dimension. And also he tackled a guy.

But playing this up as a big REDEMPTION for Mike? I dunno. His big failing was getting invested in a band that was secretly eating its fans. And his big redemption was tackling a dude.

It’s not landing for me. The redemption angle.

Mike isn’t much of a character and I don’t feel like his offense was offensive enough to warrant big, bold all-caps REDEMPTION as a title.

And him helping the Avengers out by having been half in a portal means his redemption is kinda passive. Sure, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and follow them to the concert when they told him to buzz off. But the help he gave the West Coast Avengers is that they used him to open a portal. Also, he tackled the guy.

Story was fine. Pretty goofy and pretty inoffensive for a fill-in. I like seeing Hank Pym and his deus ex pockets again. Weird that Moon Knight got dropped entirely out of the story and the story didn’t have a lot for Mockingbird to do.

But apparently it was a moment when the West Coast Avengers worked well as a team and Wonder Man thought they would last forever.

Its a tragic note that in the here and now the team has had a divorce because Hawkeye and Mockingbird can’t have a civil conversation about cowboy manslaughter.

Although, I want to note here. If Hank Pym is on the team as Dr Pym, that means that Mockingbird already did the manslaughter and is hiding it from everyone at this point where the team was working well together.

So it kind of undermines Wonder Man sighing about how those were the days.

Anyway, the plot finally catches up to the West Coast Avengers and the Quinjet starts crashing into the next issue.

It happens.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because soon the Englehart era will end. Will we miss him? Maybe. What’s to come has its own problems. But either way: like, reblog, comment? I like feedback. It makes me happy.