#marigolds are terrible tasting

[clawbehavior]

what are your pregnant gaon & gahan headcanons? embarrassed to ask this questions but I keep on thinking about gahan with a baby sobs 🤧💗

you're like me!!!! i have been thinking of pregnant gaon and parents gahan for months ✨✨ this is our time to shine anon!!! i have spicy and sweet head canons. here they are in no particular order: 

- gaon's snatch is looser after giving birth. yohan loves this because it's directly tied to gaon having yohan's child, just as he loved when gaon was tight because it meant yohan was his first. having a baby makes gaon completely unselfconscious about his body which makes their sex even spicier post kids. 

- some couples find their sex lives dwindling after having kids. gahan makes it work by taking advantage of opportunities. baby asleep after feeding and seven year old doing homework with their headphones in? gahan's all over each other in the bedroom. they're still doing it at least once a day. 

- when their firstborn was a baby, gaon used to hold them out to yohan for kisses but it's a ploy because when yohan leaned in gaon would kiss him instead. things like that which made yohan fall in love with him even more.

- gaon pumps so they can switch off every night on who wakes to feed the baby but it's really every three nights because yohan wants gaon to sleep properly to recover so he sleeps lightly in order to wake first when their baby cries

- yes, yohan does taste gaon's milk. it tastes sugary, like the remaining milk at the bottom of a cereal bowl. it's not often because they need to feed the baby, but sometimes as a lil treat 😋

- one time gaon nestles against yohan while feeding so yohan can watch their bby feed over gaon's shoulder with one arm supporting gaon's holding the baby. gaon's exhausted, so he falls asleep mid feed and yohan holds them both so their baby can finish. 

- the first time their baby had a vaccination, yohan's alpha instincts went into overdrive at his baby's wail, pheromones flooding the room. as soon as his baby was bandaged up, yohan scooped him up and held him against his cheek and murmured soothingly to him that he was okay, that his aboujie had him, that aboujie wasn't going to let anyone touch him until their baby calmed, feeling safe and secure

- yohan takes an almost anthropological fascination when his baby hits the terrible two's stage and their favorite word is 'no!' because even when his toddler is running around in a fit of incandescent rage, they're still soooo cute. he's a big softie. but he learns to reign it in a little so as not to encourage bad behavior or to make gaon the sole disciplinarian. still, things that easily irritate other parents don't bother him. he loves his goofy ass angry ball of adventure 

- their firstborn child is the spitting image of yohan with his father's same protective instincts and shyness. his son owns a comb. many combs in fact but he still lets his hair fall in his eyes. gaon liked to crouch in front of their kid (so tall now!) and comb the hair out of his eyes while teasing him until he broke into a wide grin and nuzzled his face against gaon's. it healed something inside yohan to see it happen  

- their second child, a girl, has yohan wrapped around her tiny finger and not just because she has gaon's straight black hair and saucy temper but because yohan has a soft spot for cute baby girls in cute little outfits and cute little pink dresses and it has never left him

- yohan doesn't understand why his son randomly starts making it a habit to gift yohan marigolds that he picked on his way home from school, but he shrugs and accepts his good fortune then adds them to the vase of fresh flowers gaon leaves on his study table every morning 

- gaon is stunning in any outfit but yohan's favorite is when gaon wears nothing but his wedding ring, lying in their sheets

- when gaon is in charge of the baby while yohan is at an after work event, he dresses them up in yohan's glasses, tie, and button down then face calls yohan and keeps the baby up front so the first thing yohan sees is his kid just swimming in yohan's shirt with yohan's reading glasses slipping down his face and grinning with glee. it makes yohan laugh out loud during a speech and then he has to play it extra cool during the rest of the night to rehabilitate his image 

- people talk about there being a number one and a number two in a marriage but on some things yohan takes the lead and others gaon does and no matter what they feel they always show a united front to the babies and solve their disagreements in private

- yohan would like five kids. gaon tells him in no uncertain terms that two is enough. ofc what happens is he's lax with his birth control and gets pregnant again and yohan tells him he'll support whatever choice gaon makes so gaon decides to go with it. i'll let you decide if it's twins! 

you must be brimming with gahan mpreg ideas, anon! feel free to drop them in the ask box or here in the chat so we can scream about the lawful husbands together

#the devil judge #anon asks #my fic ideas #writing together

[apatheticlexicographer]

the thing is, i don’t even objectively dislike mitochondria as a ship; or i didn’t used to, anyway. in fact, i used to be a mandarin shipper!!! it’s very sweet and fluffy; maybe a little too lacking in substance or bite for my current tastes but s1-2 marigold could easily have been the basis for a really cute and healthy relationship going forward. in s3, though, that all seemed to crumble apart. i was relieved when they broke up, and before watching s3 i had been writing-terrible-wattpad-fanfic levels of invested in matchbox!!! i still kept a little hope going into s4 that it might have just been a rough patch, but after watching v1 i officially gave up my very last fuck about their relationship, and seeing as they had so many permanent-breakup flags i was pretty confident that i had made the right decision. in fact, after having assumed that wills crush on mike was unrequited, i even started to get the increasing feeling that it might not be after all. the more i thought about it, the more ready i was for michelin to break up, and the more cautiously optimistic i became that byler might actually be mutual. bearing in mind, i had still been rooting for mike and eleven going into the season. it was just that easy, watching it, for my feelings to turn on a dime, and having watched this tag grow exponentially in the last month i know i’m far from alone.

despite that all, on a blank canvas i can’t say i hate the ship. i just hate what the writers have done with it, and that portion of the shippers. the ones who absolutely refuse to engage with the idea that a text can have multiple interpretations just because it’s a netflix original and not fucking shakespeare, and who harrass people simply for daring to become disenchanted with mongoose and put their chips down on the ship they feel is more likely to end in both characters’ genuine happiness.

i’m not 100% sure where i was going with this, but i dislike the assumption that all bylers hate museli. i wish it was still being written in a way that allowed me to enjoy it, because i really used to love it!!! but 2 seasons are 2 too many for me to be able to forgive the suffer sisters’ writing decisions if it’s the intended endgame. regardless of who ends up with who, municipality has been dead in the water for me since i saw how happy el was after dumping mike.

#byler #death of the authors etc. the duffers are either right or wrong and only we can decide which

[elfcollector]

No need to share if you don't want to, but if you want to talk about your characters' genders/sexualities I'd love to hear about them!

i LOVE to talk about my kids!

i'm just gonna go down the list; if i don't mention someone here, assume they're bi and cis and that their relationship to their gender/sexuality/etc. just doesnt have enough in there to make me wanna talk about it

alia is bi and has a ( hand wiggles ) relationship with gender; some of it's just the inherent trauma of how elven women are treated causing her to want to reject some of it, some of its a true - ish form of gender dysphoria ( one of the few bad parts about having enough to eat now is that she fills out properly and starts having tits ) and most of it's a combo of the two. she identifies as a woman and that's unlikely to change, if only because she lacks other language, but internally she prefers androgynous terms of address, something zevran picks up early.

johana is a cis lesbian! her family and much of court doesn't approve!

natia is a cis woman and bi but like. she feels a similar 'being a woman in the commonly understood sense has created in me a lot of a trauma' thing to what alia does, but natia leans harder into BEING a woman because of it, as a way to spite the ones that sought to make her womanhood bad. she's not particularly feminine, it's not like that; it's more like she doesn't feel any innate sense of her own womanhood but she CHOOSES IT very intentionally. it's not a gender identity it is a gender CHOICE.

eilonwy is a cis woman and bi, but she has a DRAMATIC preference for women. gay until provoked

adahli is a trans woman and bi with a fairly significant preference for men!

sion is a GNC cis bi woman; she gets increasingly butchy as time passes. despite both being bi she and merrill do sort of look like the platonic ideal of a lesbian butch/femme couple

ahvir is agender, uses she/they, and is bi. no real preference for any particular gender, but does have a lot of internalized homophobia related to her attraction to men due to childhood trauma involving a girl she was in love with

isala is a trans woman and she did her own bottom surgery! she learned blood magic to do her own bottom surgery! bi, preference for men

dhea'mis is a trans woman. isn't particularly interested in bottom surgery, likes her dick just fine. so does josephine. bi, but with a minor preference for women.

marigold is a cis lesbian! falls in love with sera basically at first sight.

alexei is a cis gay man with terrible taste.

inessa beats gender with a STICK! she has no gender, but still uses she/her because using others would be more work than she cares about. bi, preference for men, has INSANELY high standards (you need to be at least as much of a revolutionary as she is, which is a hard to standard to meet)

dove doesn't use labels and finds them stifling, but she doesn't feel that gender is a meaningful part of her identity and she feels attraction to people of all genders. she falls under the ace umbrella

daiynn is a she/they/occasionally it, bi, minor preference for men! serana beat all the odds because shes perfect

xin yi doesn't use labels but she's almost exclusively attracted to women. cis woman but in the sense that she just doesn't give a shit

noe uses they/them, tho is okay with 'she' from people they're very close to. no real gender identity aside from "null." or maybe just "monster." either way! prefers masc folks but is attracted to everybody in practice

rue uses all and any pronouns, does not give a shit, and identifies as every gender at once. she is a girl when she's ciel's girlfriend. he is a boy when they are romeo's best bro. they are none of the above when they are hanging out. doesn't matter. experiences romantic attraction extremely rarely; ciel was really the first person he'd ever really felt that towards. does have a type for mysterious white-haired girls, tho

ena uses she/they, but prefers they broadly speaking. bi!

soma is a girl that's a guy. a dude that's a gal. uses she/they pronouns for herself but really doesn't care what you do, has no sense of their gender identity or of gender mattering to that identity. bi, no preference.

jetta is a cis bi woman who uses she/they! preference for ladies :D

quinn is agender and bi!

valda is bi and transfem. as far as attraction goes, they've got a bit of a preference for masculinity but no real preference regarding actual gender

andi is nonbinary and bi

erin is a cis lesbian but has just genuinely godawful taste

blake is agender and, while i wouldn't call them transmasc, they do prefer dressing masculinely and would rather be called your boyfriend than your girlfriend, yknow. only attracted to men.

rory just uses the word queer; no gender, no preference re: attraction

austen doesn't use labels, but does go by they/them. bi!

luca is agender and t4t, specifically with a preference for other nonbinary folks

delilah is nonbinary and bi

jocasta is every gender and none of them. fuck you. goes by she/they/he/it, but also doesn't really care what you call them. attraction is simply Queer

delight is utterly genderless and very bi! dislikes being gendered by friends or loved ones but doesn't care about it from strangers

#Anonymous #nonsense.

[ladykailolu]

Give me some interesting drama scenarios with Marigold and the fam (Papi, Auntie Maya, Uncle Phoenix, Pearl)

I’m all out and I need something to salivate over

Angst when Marigold and Godot are home one night and Marigold just turned 18, Marigold goes to get something from the kitchen. When she enters the kitchen, she suddenly falls to the ground, as if she passed out. Godot hears the loud "thump!!" from the kitchen and goes to investigate. To his horror, his daughter is slumped down, unresponsive and out cold. on the floor.

Godot calls out to her, "Marigold! MARIGOLD!!" and he's at her side in a second. When he turns Marigold over so that she's laying on her back, Marigold begins to wake up and responds to him, groggy and upset as if he had broken her out of a sweet dream. She's confused and more annoyed that Godot woke her up than with the fact she fell, dropped, passed out on the floor.

In truth, Marigold remembers only slipping into darkness, and she could have sworn that she dived into bed and went off to sleep. But she doesn't say that on some level, she was aware that she passed out and fell.

He's all over her, pressing into parts of her arms and legs, checking for pain, tenderness, checking if anything was bruised. He found one developing bruise on her hip and asked where had she fallen. He suggests her shoulder, but she says no. Her knee? Nope! Instead, she later claimed she fell on her hip because that part hurts a little.

He's not a doctor, so he doesn't really know what to do. But one thing is clear: he doesn't want to let her sleep!! He helps her up, slowly, and supports her back until she can stand on her feet. He asks her again if she has headaches or pain anywhere, and each time, she says no. It's because the pain is numbed. Let's just say that Marigold got into something she shouldn't (the tequila) and felt the effects. Of course, she's underaged to drink, but in the Armando family, it wasn't uncommon to share a little bit of tequila with the older children during family dinners. Godot doesn't practice this but some of his older relatives do, and Marigold got a taste for it.

Aaaaaaaand that's the night that Godot found out about it. He could smell the tequila on her breath and asked her how much did he have. She replied, "only two shots", and she sounds oddly coherent for someone drunk off of tequila, and her voice sounded weak and faraway. She was also unbelievably calm--it was incredible! Once she was on her feet, she was escorted, hustled over to a kitchen chair and answered more questions, "how are you feeling? Any pain--any pain at all? No headaches? No nausea? Are you sure?"

He needs answers, but the emotions had just hit him. Something terrible has happened to his child, and he needed to find out the bottom of it. She's not allowed to sleep for a while yet, and Godot explained to her, in plain terms, that if she feels any pain or sickness, she needs to tell Godot immediately.

She's also not allowed to use her own bed. She had to sleep in Godot's bed while he sleeps on the chair in the same room. And you bet that he would interrogate her the next day and watch her closely. In all, Marigold simply blamed it on the alcohol. She apologizes, regretting that she betrayed her father's trust and disappointed him. She was afraid of what he would say to her next, especially if he ever found out the truth that she was hiding. She didn't just get into the alcohol but by gummies too. If he was upset now, Godot would be furious with her if he found the whole truth.

So Marigold kept quiet and only answered the questions given to her and let the waters of fate guide her from there.

Marigold's so good at keeping her secret, that Godot blames this episode on the tequila and ensures it's locked up better then grounds his daughter.

He never finds out the whole truth.

#marigold estella fey #marigold fey #diego armando #prosecutor godot #ace attorney godot #godot ace attorney #ace attorney #ace attorney oc #not my oc #alcohol #oreocookiezzz #asks #lady k answers

[queerlilchinchin-deactivated2024]

Old Character Notes: Calen the Chinchilla

Calen's name is actually Cal, but his nickname is longer than his actual name.

Notes:

Cal is 8 years old and male (he/him)

he absolutely adores Marigold

he had a crush on her up til she came out as aro/ace and moved on out of respect for her preferences

while he has much more tact when it comes to receiving gifts he doesn't like than his best friend is, he still is known for accidentally regifting gifts he doesn't like to the ones who originally gave them to him

he is a terrible gift giver except with Mari herself, and even then, it took him years and many gifts being thrown at him before he got to know her tastes in presents

he is with a girl older than him (she is 10)

he was born in July and is very lucky to be alive

he is a twin and his mother died in childbirth

Mari's mother adopted him as a part of the family

he originally belonged to a different herd but his father and herd abandoned him after his birth (due to his mother's death) - Mari's aunt found him and brought him to her sister

he met his father 7 years later, when he was 7 and still refuses to talk about it, even to Mari

he has great music taste, is very loving, silly and caring

he is too trusting but weary, has bad anxiety, is a bit of a music snob and isn't the most appreciative of gifts he doesn't like (though he at least attempts to hide it)

he is Mari's #1 fan and always enables her every whim

he loves to make Mari laugh

when he is especially anxious, you can find him huddled in a ball, singing a specific lullaby to himself to calm himself down

he HATES pranks -- not just being pranked but as a general concept

#my ocs #old ocs #chinchilla ocs #calen the chinchilla #cal the chinchilla

[crisishauntline]

To the Days

By Adrienne Rich

From you I want more than I’ve ever asked

all of it—the newscasts’ terrible stories

of life in my time, the knowing it’s worse than that,

much worse—the knowing what it means to be lied to.

Fog in the mornings, hunger for clarity,

coffee and bread with sour plum jam.

Numbness of soul in placid neighborhoods.

Lives ticking on as if.

A typewriter’s torrent, suddenly still

Blue soaking through fog, two dragonflies wheeling.

Acceptable levels of cruelty, steadily rising.

Whatever you bring in your hands, I need to see it.

Suddenly I understand the verb without tenses.

To smell another woman’s hair, to taste her skin.

To know the bodies drifting underwater.

To be human, said Rosa—I can’t teach you that.

A cat drinks from a bowl of marigolds—his moment.

Surely the love of life is never-ending,

the failure of nerve, a charred fuse?

I want more from you than I ever knew to ask.

Wild pink lilies erupting, tasseled stalks of corn

in the Mexican gardens, corn and roses.

Shortening days, strawberry fields in ferment

with tossed-aside, bruised fruit.

#poetry #adrienne rich #reasons to live

[practically-an-x-man]

Because we were just talking about it, have a pringles OC writing prompt. How about an X-Men one with Peter and Marigold. You probably know them well enough by now but there's always Mari's toyhouse.

(sentence/dialogue prompt)

"Quit smiling at me, I can't stop messing up sentences when you look at me like that,"

If you need more lmk but also no pressure

Sorry it took me so long to get around to this! It took me forever to come up with something good with this prompt, and admittedly I was a little worried that I wouldn't get Mari right. Weirdly, she was harder to write then Arith and Iriel, even though you've got so much more written for her.

But anyway, I hope this is cute! It's about 1.4k words, definitely not my longest piece of writing, but I think it's fun. Oh, and here's a song that'll be important as you read.

If there was one thing you could count on Peter Maximoff for (aside from saving lives and cracking terrible jokes), it was his taste in music. He’d been suggesting the karaoke night for weeks, but it was only when a karaoke machine mysteriously appeared in the rec room that he was able to put it into motion.

“You paid for that, right?” Marigold asked, eyeing the hunk of silver and black plastic as her partner fiddled with it. Peter twisted over his shoulder to look at her. His dark eyes were sparkling with a familiar mischievous light, and she knew the answer before he even said it. 

“Sure,” he said with a shrug, though a smile kept twitching at the corners of his lips. Marigold sighed. 

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” she said, “Eventually someone’s going to realize it’s you.”

“Psh,” he replied, looking amused, “I’m too good. They couldn’t catch me if they tried. And anyway, I’ll give it back tomorrow. I just need it for tonight.”

“Alright,” Mari agreed. She couldn’t say she had the cleanest record herself (it came with the territory of being an X-Man), but she figured there were worse things than just borrowing it for the night. Besides, it was a Monday - who goes out for karaoke on a Monday? They probably wouldn’t even miss it.

“Do you need help setting it up?” she asked instead, taking a few steps closer and crouching beside Peter as he kept working on the machine. He thought for a second. 

“No, I think I’m okay.” he said, “But we could test it out. Gotta make sure it works before tonight.”

“What song?” 

“Let’s see what’s in there,” Peter answered. He pressed a button on the side of the machine, and a CD port slid open. There was already a disc in there (Willie Nelson - yikes), but Peter plucked it out and set it on top of the machine. He leaned back on his heels, fingers drumming restlessly on his knees over the span of a few heartbeats. 

“Alright, I’ve got it.” he said suddenly, then disappeared in a flash of silver. He was back almost before Mari realized he’d gone, and dropped another CD into the port with eager, excited movements.

“What’d you pick?” Marigold asked, trying to spot the label on the CD as it slid into the karaoke machine. She couldn’t quite pick it out in time. 

“Stevie Nicks.” Peter answered with a grin, fighting to untangle the microphone wires. Mari smiled. He knew that was one of her favorites.

Peter bounced up to his feet, holding out a hand to her. Marigold took it and let him pull her up to her feet, accepting the microphone he handed to her. He held a second one up in front of his face. 

“Testing, testing, one-two-” he started, then winced at the burst of noise that spewed through the speakers, “Shit, that’s too-”

He darted over and twisted the volume knob, grateful when the echo faded from the room. Tentatively, he lifted the microphone back up. 

“Test?” he repeated, a little quieter that time, “Okay, good, that’s better. Try yours.”

Marigold lifted up her microphone, wincing a little at the smell of metal and old beer that clung to it. 

“Did you get this from a bar?” she asked, forgetting that she was supposed to be testing the microphone. Peter reached out and lowered the volume before her voice could boom through the speakers. 

“Yeah?” he replied, tilting his head at her, “Where else do you do karaoke?”

“I thought you took it from a RadioShack or something.” she answered, giving a sidelong look to the microphone in her hand. She knew it wasn’t exactly unclean, but there was something about it, and the thought that so many other hands had touched it before her, that made her skin crawl. It even felt a little sticky, but that might’ve just been her imagination.

Peter must have noticed her expression, because his eyebrows furrowed. A moment later, he’d zipped away again, only to return right in front of her. He had a Clorox wipe in one hand. The other reached for the microphone. 

“Here, let’s wipe it off,” he said.

“You read my mind,” Marigold responded gratefully, “Be right back. I’m gonna go wash my hands.”

When she returned, feeling much better after scrubbing the unpleasant bar-smell residue off her hands, Peter was wiping down his own microphone as well. When he’d finished with that, he ran the Clorox wipe over the front of the karaoke machine, over all the buttons and knobs, then tossed it in the trash and wiped off his hands on the front of his shirt. 

“Alright.” he said, “Better?”

“Much better,” she agreed, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” He handed her the microphone once again - this time it had the pleasant if chemically lemon-smell of the Clorox wipe - then crouched down to start the song. They were greeted to soft strains of acoustic guitar, mingled with a light music-box chiming. Mari smiled as she came in with the first lyrics. 

“Is love so fragile and the heart so hollow?” she sang, feeling a little self-conscious at first. She got over it quickly. There was nobody in the room but her and Peter, what was there to be embarrassed about? “Shatter with words, impossible to follow.”

From her right, she caught Peter’s eyes. She saw nothing but soft affection on his face for a moment, until he realized she was looking at him. That gentle expression was quickly replaced with teasing as he stuck his tongue out at her. Marigold rolled her eyes but kept singing. 

“You’re saying I’m fragile, I try not to be,” she continued, “I search only for something I can’t see.”

Despite herself, she found her eyes straying over to Peter again. And again, she caught a flash of something warm across his face… and then he crossed his eyes at her. Mari laughed before she could stop herself. 

“Stop distracting me!” she demanded, pointedly turning her eyes away from him before she could miss the next line in the song, “I have my own life, and I am stronger than you know.”

“I’m not distracting you!” Peter insisted, “I’m just looking at you! Am I not allowed to look at you?”

She elected to ignore him. 

“But I carry this feeling,” Marigold sang, “When you walked into my-” She made the mistake of turning around, and found her partner giving her the goofiest expression he could muster - teeth bared, eyes bugged out, like he was doing his best impersonation of a dollar-store Halloween mask. Mari couldn’t help it. She broke down into a fit of giggles.

“Stop that!” she laughed, reaching out to push lightly at his shoulder.

“Stop what?” Peter fired back, grinning wide enough to make dimples crease his cheeks. 

“Quit smiling at me!” Marigold insisted, “I can’t stop messing up sentences when you look at me like that!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Peter said, lifting his palms in surrender. 

“You’re making faces!”

“What faces? Mare-bear, this is just my face!”

“Mare-bear,” she repeated, giving him a look even as she tried to hold back her own laughter, “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Ah, you love me.” he teased, then added, “Mare-bear.”

“Stop it!” Marigold laughed, smiling so hard it hurt.

“You do!” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe?” he repeated, “What, singing karaoke got me bumped down to maybe status?”

“No, ‘Mare-bear’ got you bumped down to maybe status.” she fired back, though the threat didn’t hold much meaning when she still couldn’t pull the smile off her face. 

“Then I’ll just have to win you back with my incredible singing,” Peter said, lifting the microphone to his lips with a flourish, “Careful, Mari, I’m irresistible.”

“Maybe.”

“Again with the ‘maybe’!” he blurted, then shrugged and shot her a wink, “You’ll see.” 

With all his teasing, he almost missed his entrance to the song, but he recovered quickly enough.

“You in the moonlight, with your sleepy eyes,” Peter sang, reaching out a hand like he was an overly-dramatic actor in a music video, “Would you ever love a man like me?”

He turned to face her, giving her his best romantic look as he kept singing. Marigold just scrunched her nose at him, then stuck out her tongue. Peter barked out a laugh, his dark eyes brightening even as he missed his cue for the next lyric. 

“Uh- When I walked into your house, I knew I’d never want to leave,” he corrected quickly, but Marigold was already grinning.

“See?” she teased, triumphant, “I messed you up!”

#my friends!!! #not my ocs #x men fanfic #fanfic author #my writing #marigold rosales #peter maximoff #leapsecond #quicksecond

[thornfield13713]

Marigold verse: Grandpastiltskin pre-curse break?

For all Mom's talk about keeping a closer watch on him, it wasn't that hard to sneak out of the house. Sure, there was a lock on his window now, but Mom still had work, even if her 'Saturday town council meetings' had dried up after Sheriff Graham died, and Henry knew where she kept the spare keys. The hardest part was remembering to put the key back just where Mom had left it every time he came back in, because she'd notice if it was even an inch out of place, but now, Henry had the trick of that as well. Anyway, Mom was in a good mood right now. She'd been happy ever since the whole town had found out about Mary and David's relationship, and now she was so busy enjoying seeing everyone hate Snow White instead of her that Henry wasn't sure she'd notice if he ran away to join the circus. Not that the circus ever came through Storybrooke.

He arrived at the diner just before twelve, just in time to snag a good table for him and Emma before the lunch rush meant everywhere was busy...except there was no lunch rush. The diner was all but deserted. Except for him, and Granny, and...Mr Gold, who was leaning heavily on the counter, wearing a dangerous sort of smile and talking quietly to Granny.

"-misunderstandings about what you owe me," he was saying as Henry came in.

Granny's lips were pressed into a tight, thin line. "We're paid up for this month," she said curly.

"Are you, now?" Mr Gold's smile widened. "I'll have to check my books, of course - I've got a terrible memory for these things - but I hope you're right. Mary's always been partial to your hot chocolate, even if your lasagne's a bit overrated in my view. It'd be a shame if she couldn't come here anymore. If, say, you were suddenly forced to shut down due to non-payment of debts..."

Henry was ten, and even he could see that for the threat it was.

Granny bristled. "I haven't done anything wrong. We reserve the right to refuse service to-"

"To anyone you like, yes. Or, as it might be, anyone you don't like. I remember." Mr Gold shrugged. "As I said. I hope I find all my books in order." Point made, he turned away sharply, and seemed like he was about to leave the diner when he caught sight of Henry and brightened, inexplicably.

"Ah, Henry. How're you?"

Henry's mind went blank. "Uh...I'm okay. Um..."

It wasn't as though Mr Gold had ever been mean to him, after all. He'd always been...kind enough, in a faintly-creepy sort of way, but he was still...well, Mom was afraid of him, even if she tried to pretend she wasn't, and that was- That had to mean danger, even if Henry still wasn't precisely sure who or what Mr Gold really was. He wasn't the King, Snow's real father, Henry was pretty sure - Regina had murdered him, at least in the book, and Mr Gold was alive and kicking. But he couldn't think of anyone else, and anyway, Mr Gold was Mary's father, even if he hadn't been Snow's. Which made him...sort of Henry's great-grandfather? Maybe? Was that how it worked?

"You're here to meet Sheriff Swan, I suppose," Mr Gold went on jovially, leaning on his cane - the one he'd beaten a man half to death with not very long ago. "I'll wait with you, if you like. Mrs Lucas, a pot of tea and one hot chocolate with cinnamon, please."

Henry startled nearly out of his skin. "How- How did you know I like-"

"Mary's mentioned it," Gold cut him off smoothly. "You, she and Sheriff Swan form quite a little club for it. I don't exactly understand it myself, but who am I to argue with taste? Shall we sit down?"

Well, now Gold had ordered for him, Henry sort of had to. And- It wasn't particularly sensible, but he'd always sort of liked Mr Gold. Mom didn't like him, or approve of Henry talking to him, but Mom didn't like anyone much, and didn't approve of Henry talking to anyone at all. And he'd always been nice to Henry, even when he wasn't nice - not really nice, anyway, instead of just shamming it - to anyone else, except for Mary.

Anyway, this was- This was an opportunity. Whoever Mr Gold was, he was someone to be reckoned with, and someone Mom didn't like, which...probably meant he was a good guy? If the Evil Queen didn't like him, that just made sense. Henry just had to figure out which one. He couldn't see Mr Gold as a knight, but maybe one of the kings? His name was Gold, so...Midas, maybe? Except that he was Kathryn's dad, not Snow's, and Snow's was dead. Maybe...maybe it was a swap sort of thing? Kathryn got Snow's husband, but Snow got Kathryn's dad? Except that no-one in the book seemed to be all that scared of Midas and, anyway, Mom would never have designed the curse to give Snow White anything.

"Is this all right?" Mr Gold's voice was gentle. "I can leave, if you'd rather wait on your own..."

"No," Henry said quickly, and then reached for the first topic that came to mind. "So...what were you talking to Granny about?"

Mr Gold's faint smile slipped.

"Well...you've seen the way people have been acting lately? Towards Mary?"

Henry nodded, shamefaced. He didn't- He didn't think anyone had missed the way people were treating Mary. He didn't think anyone could.

"Y-yeah. It's not- It's not fair!" he burst out. "She's not- He and- It's all the curse anyway, but everyone's- Even people who are meant to be good are being mean to her and it's not fair!"

"No, it isn't," Mr Gold agreed. "That's what I was doing here. You see...sometimes, to get people to be kinder, you have to give them a reminder of what happens if they're not. Otherwise, they'll just keep on treating people badly. But if you want them to stop, you have to stop them."

"...like...like the Evil Queen," Henry said quietly. "They- the heroes have to stop her, otherwise she'll just keep...keep doing things..."

"Exactly so." Mr Gold smiled at him. "You're a bright lad, Henry. Of course, sometimes it's less dragon-slaying and more...reminders, but it's all for a good cause in the end."

Henry...wasn't sure that made sense. You were supposed to be nice to people, weren't you? And then they'd be nice to you. Except Mary was always nice to everyone, and hardly anyone had ever been nice to her even before everyone had found out about her and David.

Fortunately, that was when their drinks arrived, brought by a nervous-looking Ruby.

"And- another hot chocolate, please," Mr Gold said, just as she was making to go. "Sheriff Swan should be joining us soon."

"Um...okay." Ruby caught Henry's eye. "Uh...everything okay here."

"Yeah," Henry said quickly. "Just...waiting for Emma. And Mary," he added. "She...uh...she's not teaching right now, so..."

"I know." Mr Gold's smile sharpened at the edges. "I'll be popping in at the elementary school next, to...sort out...some things relating to that."

"Does that mean she'll be coming back?" Henry asked, hope leaping up in his chest. "We've got a substitute teacher, but she's..." he made a face. Mrs Boot was...okay, he guessed. Mostly. If she hadn't kept making snippy remarks about their previous teacher, he might even have liked her.

"I hope so." Mr Gold paused thoughtfully, stirring his tea, even though he hadn't added anything to it. "She's always liked teaching. It...wasn't the career I'd have expected for her, but...what about you? Any grand ambitions of your own?"

Henry stared down at his hot chocolate. He hadn't really- When he'd been very small, he'd wanted to be a knight. Mom hadn't approved - knights weren't real, she'd said. Not here. Wouldn't he rather be a pilot, or a doctor, or a lawyer, or follow her on the town council? He hadn't much liked the sound of any of those. Then...well, then he'd figured out Operation Cobra, after he got big enough to realise that it wasn't normal that he got older while everyone else he knew stayed the same age. And then he'd more-or-less figured that he'd break the curse, they'd all go back to the Enchanted Forest and he'd...well, he'd be a...a prince, right? If Snow and Charming were King and Queen, that was how it worked. Emma would be a princess, and then a queen, and he'd be a prince and then - one day, a long, long way in the future - he'd be a king too. A good one, or- he'd try to be. He didn't know how, but- They had government classes at the high school, he could...figure it out there? And Mom wouldn't disapprove, because she wanted him to be on the town council, so he'd have to take government for that...but...it wasn't-

He'd do it, he guessed, but it wasn't...exciting, or interesting, it was just...what was going to happen.

"...I don't know. I could...write stories? I guess?"

"An excellent career." Mr Gold nodded. "What kind of stories?"

"Like...fairy tales, I guess?" Henry frowned. "Not...not the old ones, the ones that have already happened, but...new ones. With dragons and...spells, and magic and...everything..."

"Fantasy," Mr Gold gave a crooked little grin. "Another good choice there. The oldest sort of story there is. Have you read much of it?"

"...a bit."

Half of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, anyway, before Mom had found out and the school's entire fantasy section had been pulled for 'promoting the occult in schools'.

"Well, you're welcome to come by the shop sometime. We get a lot of old books in - some of them might be the sort of thing you're looking for. And even if they aren't," Mr Gold added. "You never know what you might find. It's one of the better things about the pawnbroking business - every item has its story."

"Like the compass," Henry said eagerly. The one that had- the one that had helped Hansel and Gretel find their father. Maybe- Maybe that was the key! Finding something of significance from someone's old life to help wake them up...or- or at least something that might prove to Emma that all of this was real, that she should believe him-

"Exactly so." Mr Gold picked up his cup. "You'd be surprised how much these...material things can mean to people. The memories they bring back. And even if they don't..." he shrugged. "I imagine they can be a very rich source of ideas. Not that you seem to be short of them. Are there any stories you would particularly want to tell?"

Henry stopped dead.

He hadn't-

He'd been so focused on the book, he hadn't done much writing, lately. Even his class creative writing exercises were based on it, a bit, in an attempt to jog Mary's memory, but...if he could write whatever he liked...

"...I like knights?" he offered. "A-and quests. Maybe...something about one of those? I guess?"

Mr Gold's nose wrinkled a little. "...not my sort of hero, but...I suppose I can see the appeal. I rather liked the idea of being a knight myself, when I was a boy."

"You did?" Henry blinked. "What- What sort of knight?"

Was this a clue? It was hard to picture, but...maybe...

Mr Gold shrugged. "Oh- It depended on the day. A lot of slaying of imaginary dragons and rescuing princesses, but other than that..."

"Oh."

Loads of knights slew dragons and saved princesses. It was pretty much what knights were for. Henry guessed some of the kings might've done it when they were younger, but...

"Henry?"

They both looked around. Emma was standing there, looking wary.

"...Mr Gold. What are you-"

"Sheriff Swan," Mr Gold said easily. "We've been waiting for you."

Emma's brows knit together. "We?" she demanded, her eyes flicking from Henry to Gold. "You- What are you doing with my kid, Gold?"

"Just talking." Gold smiled. "He's- Well, teachers aren't supposed to have favourites, but Mary's taken quite a shine to your boy. And I'd say," he added, "That he's got a fine future in front of him as a fantasy author, if that's what he wants to do. Reminds me of- Well."

For a moment, his smile turned slightly sad. Mary had had a brother once, Henry remembered suddenly. She'd mentioned it, once, and then clammed up. Which was weird, because Snow White hadn't had any brothers. Or any siblings at all. Well, unless you counted him, but that was just- that was weird, he was her grandson, he couldn't be her brother as well! And anyway, he hadn't been born yet when the curse was cast.

"Huh- You told him about your book?" Emma asked, glancing at Henry.

"N-no..."

"Just some ideas for stories," Gold promised. "Actually - I've a rather good second-hand edition of The Once and Future King at the shop," he added, glancing over at Henry. "I know your mother doesn't approve, but if Miss Swan's willing to keep it for you, it might give you some idea for that story about knights."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "Uh-huh. And how much is that going to cost us?"

"Free of charge," Gold said easily. "That reminds me, I've been wanting to speak to you about the situation in town right now..."

"You mean about..." Emma trailed off. "Look, I can't- I know you're protective, but there's nothing I can do about-"

"I know." Mr Gold drummed his fingers on the table. "And...I shouldn't worry. That situation will be...dealt with...soon enough. What did I say, Henry?" he added, smirking a little. "Sometimes people need...reminders...of why it is better to be kind."

Emma was starting to look outright alarmed now. "'Reminders' like what you did to Moe French?"

"Nothing so crude, Sheriff, I assure you. And I daresay you'll hear of any harassment charges Mary wants to bring before I do, so..."

"I...don't think that's likely to happen." Emma grimaced. "She's- You know Mary. People aren't really...I mean, there was a bit of graffiti earlier, but...mostly it's just...catty remarks, cold shoulders..."

"I see."

"Gold, don't-"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Miss Swan." Mr Gold gave a thin smile. "Enjoy your hot chocolate. You as well, Henry. I have an appointment with the principal of our local elementary school."

Emma rolled her eyes. "The sort of 'appointment' you'd rather Mary didn't hear about?"

"I'm sure she'll figure it out." Gold snorted. "I'd be disappointed if she didn't. Good afternoon, Miss Swan. Henry. And do stop in sometime for that book."

#once upon a time #mary gold au

[cookie-run-kingdom-story]

Romance Kingdom! ~Sugar Sweet Destiny~ DAY 2

Y/N: Morning already! Let’s have a sweet day today.

Since I had received that anonymous confession and chocolate yesterday, I came to school with a completely different mindset.

What can I say? Somehow even a boring, peaceful day now felt exciting.

I no longer felt strange watching the other students get excited about possible confessions from secret admirers.

I even started to think that liking someone for their charms and cherishing them from afar was actually a very beautiful thing.

If only I had realized that sooner, perhaps I would not have been so bored at school.

Herbert Hoo: Oh, good morning, Y/N! Isn’t today just absolutely beautiful? Y/N: Good morning, Herbert. Oh, you have some sweat on your forehead. Come closer, I’ll wipe that for you. Herbert Hoo: Ah! Tha-thank you. Herbert Hoo: The after-school club promotion week starts today, so I was preparing stuff for that this morning. The gardening club is planning to show off some useful gardening tips. Herbert Hoo: Y/N, you haven’t joined a club yet, right? Y/N: That’s right. I couldn’t really figure out which one to pick. Herbert Hoo: Then this upcoming week is the perfect chance to find out! Herbert Hoo: Have a good look around. I’m sure there will be a club perfect for you Y/N… Herbert Hoo: If… you don’t mind, would you like to check out the gardening club as well?

A) Of course.

Y/N: Of course.

B) I’ll think about it.

Y/N: I’ll think about it.

Herbert Hoo: Alright. Herbert Hoo: Then I’ll see you later, Y/N!

Come to think of it, I’d forgotten all about the club promotion week.

Honestly, I had never signed up for a club because making new friends was so tiring, and I would rather go home and play games.

But now I felt a new urge to actively make friends.

This whole club experience might be a good opportunity for me! So, where should I start?

A) Should I try going out to the garden?

Thinking about clubs, the most passionate person I know came to mind. I trudged out to the garden and looked in between the trees.

Herbert Hoo: Ah, Y/N!

Look at him, he’s got dirt all over him… but it looks like he’s having fun.

Herbert Hoo: I’m glad to see you here. Are you here to join the gardening club?

A.A) No way, you know I’m terrible with plants.

Y/N: No way, you know I’m terrible with plants. Herbert Hoo: Ah… That’s right… I’m sorry, I must’ve misunderstood. Herbert Hoo: It would be great if you joined the gardening club but… What I’m trying to say is that dirt and plants are good for your health! A-and it’s exercise as well. Although the same goes for other clubs… Herbert Hoo: So, what I’m saying is… We have plants that are easy to care for as well! Would you like to at least… look around?

A.B) No, I just came to see you.

Y/N: No, I just came to see you. Herbert Hoo: Ah… Ah, I see! Ye- Yeah! Come on in! Herbert Hoo: But- Ah, I was just taking care of some weeds so I have grass and dirt all over, goodness… Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m not glad to see you! Herbert Hoo: So, what I’m saying is… Would you like to take a look around? There are loads of plants I’ve looked after!

Herbert took my hand, and we walked around the garden together.

Herbert Hoo: That’s a marigold, those are white lilies… oh, and that’s a maple tree that you can harvest syrup from in the winter! Y/N: Maple syrup? Herbert Hoo: Ah, yes! Haven’t you had that on pancakes before? It’s harvested from maple trees! Herbert Hoo: In the gardening club, we also take our tea with a spoon of maple syrup. Would you like to try it? Y/N: Uh, yes please. How interesting…

The herbal tea I was given tasted sweet, almost like something I had before…

Y/N: Hm, this tastes kind of familiar… Herbert Hoo: O-Oh? Isn’t it the taste of the herbal tea I used to make you back in the day? Y/N: Ah, is it…? Well, it’s really tasty. Herbert Hoo: Good to hear! If you ever want a cup of tea, please come by. After all, you’re welcome anytime, Y/N.

B) I wonder where the most popular club is?

The most popular club is obviously… that place! I grabbed my bag and headed towards the gym, as if I were following Rachel there.

Beenis: Everyone’s already warmed up and practicing with such intensity. No wonder our school’s fencing club is famous nationwide. Fencing Club Senior: You there! Are you here to take a stab at fencing? We have a quick survey first, then I’ll teach you the basics over there. Y/N: Yes! I’m ready. Fencing Club Senior: First, why do you want to learn fencing?

B.A) I want to get stronger.

Y/N: I want to get stronger.

B.B) I want to make friends

Y/N: I want to make friends.

Fencing Club Senior: Why do you think fencing is the sport for you?

B.A) It's about honor, skills, and a fair fight.

Y/N: It's about honor, skills, and a fair fight.

B.B) It's about becoming the very best.

Y/N: It's about becoming the very best.

Fencing Club Senior: I see. So that's what you think, eh? Rachel Raspberry: I can take it from here!

Rachel appeared out of nowhere.

Y/N: Rachel! Rachel Raspberry: Came to take a look at the fencing club? Well, what do ya think? It's really something, isn't it?

The entire gym was filled with members of the fencing club. Bursts of shouts and effort, the swinging and thrusts of swords echoed throughout the place. Everyone's swords were so accurate, they could probably pierce through dust flying in the air.

Y/N: It's awesome! But I doubt I can ever be this good. Rachel Raspberry: It'll probably take you a 1,000 years to get on my level, haha!

Despite saying that, she told me to get changed. Once I got back, she showed me the basic grip and form. Before I knew it, we were facing each other as if we were about to partake in a match.

Rachel Raspberry: Listen up. You're just a newbie who doesn't know a parry from a riposte, but I'm gonna show you what the fencing club is made of. Rachel Raspberry: Watch and learn! Rachel Raspberry: Hyaah! Hup, hyaah! Fencing Club Classmate: Did you just see that? WOW! What finesse and speed! No wonder Rachel's the star of the fencing club. Rachel Raspberry: Your turn, Y/N! Try and hit me! Y/N: H-H-Here I go!

I swiped forward with everything I had… but Rachel was too quick. She blocked with a simple swish of her sword and immediately countered, straight for my belly.

Y/N: OOOF! Rachel Raspberry: So? Ready to admit it'll take you 1,000 years to get on my level?

B.A) I'll get there one day.

Y/N: I'll get there one day.

B.B) There's no way I'll catch up to you.

Y/N: There's no way I'll catch up to you.

Once we finished with the basics, Rachel took a lap around the gym, giving pointers to the other students before finding a secluded corner to practice on her own. I kept practicing the basics with some of the other newcomers. Time flew by without notice until someone blew a whistle and told everyone that we were done for the day. Everyone bustled about to leave and get changed, but Rachel just kept on practicing. At that moment, her sweaty yet determined face… glowed. There's no other way to describe it.

That turned out to be better than expected… I still got time to explore. Where to now?

C) I prefer solitude.

Y/N: School clubs… Come to think of it, I really didn’t want to join any. Making new friends always ends in sadness anyway… Y/N: I prefer being alone…

I kept walking through the empty halls until I found myself walking towards the back of the school… towards the dumpsters.

Y/N: Wha… Why did I…?!

Come to think of it, this place is really quiet. Tranquil, almost. But it’s only quiet because… Well… This part of the school belongs to me. The one who flunks every year. The son of some shady, scary corporation boss. The student whose name instills fear in the hearts of all students… Derek DaChoco!

Derek DaChoco: You again…?

Derek was sitting on the stairs, a crunched lollipop in his hand. From his expression, it seemed like he didn’t want to be disturbed.

C.A) You didn’t tell me how old you are

Y/N: You er… didn’t tell me how old you are.

Derek spat out the crunched lollipop onto the ground. I flinched a few steps back, only to bump into the punks from yesterday. Seemed like they belonged to Derek’s posse now.

Senior Class Bully 1: Hey, you there. Got some cash? Y/N: This is all I have… I was going to buy a new workbook… Senior Class Bully 2: Well, well. Thanks for sharing, kid. Now run along and go play nicely somewhere else. Y/N: …Right. Derek DaChoco: …… Y/N: Derek… DaChoco…

I gave Derek a desperate look, but he acted like he didn’t know me as he leaned against the wall. But I thought… I thought we had something. Seriously… Faith in humanity shattered.

~BAD ENDING~

C.B) Might as well stay for a bit.

Y/N: The school clubs are on the hunt for new members to reel in… None of them seem worth joining. Derek DaChoco: …?

Is that curiosity in his gaze? Was it something I said? I’m more used to the nonchalant, uncaring gazes from the other students, but there’s something childlike about these eyes…

Y/N: I… I don’t like making friends, getting close to someone. That special something… It turns out to be a lie and I just end up getting hurt is all.

Derek crunched his lollipop and let out a long sigh. His response, though, was different this time. Soft, almost like a whisper upon the breeze.

Derek DaChoco: I know how you feel. Y/N: Huh? Pardon? Derek DaChoco: School clubs. Heh… I used to be in the fencing club. My father was good with a sword too, and he… Well, he used to be proud of me. Derek DaChoco: I always won the sparring matches against the senior class. Yeah… They didn’t like losing to the unfriendliest freshman. Derek DaChoco: I became the fencing club’s main target, a stain on their reputation. They surrounded me. I was outnumbered. I didn’t stand a chance. Y/N: Oh… Derek DaChoco: Someone from the judo club asked me to join… But the same thing happened again. Y/N: But… So you just stood there? You didn’t fight back? Derek DaChoco: Back then? No… I used to think the club members were like family. I was naive, foolish. Y/N: Those bullies…! How dare they!

I noticed my fists were clenched, shaking with anger. But Derek just let out a soft chuckle and smiled.

Derek DaChoco: Heh… Y/N: Was that a laugh? Did you just laugh? You just laughed!

Just then, I recognized the voices of the bullies getting closer and closer. Derek’s faint smile vanished and he waved his hand as if he were chasing away a fly.

Derek DaChoco: It’s time for you to leave. I’m busy. Y/N: Er… OK, Derek. Be seeing you… Don’t er… get hurt, or anything.

Just as he walked past me, I swear I noticed a silent and subtle nod.

D) I’ll go around and look first.

Y/N: I'll go around and have a look first.

I decided to take a stroll around the school to see what sort of clubs might suit me. But…

Marcus Madeleine: Haha! It seems that no one in the varsity basketball team can block my shots!

Marcus Madeleine: Oh? A rose! Such a worthy flower of my radiance. It's for me, you say? Thank you!

Reading Club Fans: President Madeleine! We're holding an open poetry session in our book club! Will you join us? Marcus Madeleine: A poetry reading! MARVELOUS! I shall make sure to be there. Reading Club Fans: SQUEAL! Really? REALLY?! Thanks so much!

I swear… His hair is so bright that the color is almost burned into my retinas… I rubbed my eyes to get a hold of my bearings.

Y/N: I'm not hallucinating, am I? I swear that it seems like Marcus is a part of every club imaginable. Marcus Madeleine: HAHA! My genius and expertise are unparalleled! It'd be a shame to waste such brilliance on a single club! Y/N: EEP! Y-y-you heard that?

D.A) Well, it's true.

Y/N: Well, if only there were as many of you as there are clubs, our school would be perfect… Marcus Madeleine: …Hm? Marcus Madeleine: HAHAHA! Is that what you think? Then I must apologize, for there can only be one as unique and dashing as l!

That line must've hit a chord with someone because they immediately swooned and fainted.

Marcus Madeleine: I wish to visit your club as well. Tell me, Y/N, which club are you in? Y/N: Oh… I haven’t joined one yet. Marcus Madeleine: Yet another shame! Please do tell me later which one you've decided to join. In fact, come tell me while visiting the Student Council office!

And just like that… he left, waving his hand high up in the air like a movie star on the red carpet Naturally, a wave of students came crashing by, each of them screaming at Marcus and pleading for him to visit their clubs too.

D.B) What about your student council duties?

Y/N: Erm… Do you even have time for Student Council duties? Marcus Madeleine: O-o-of course I do!

Behind Marcus, I could subtly make out the Vice President shaking their head…

Marcus Madeleine: I'll have you know that I am utmost dutiful to my role as a student and as the council's president! Ahem, ahem! Marcus Madeleine: Speaking of students! Tell me, Y/N, which club are you in? Y/N: Oh, I haven't joined one yet, but I'm still looking! Marcus Madeleine: Splendid! You're the type whose heart yearns for the perfect match! Perhaps the Vice President can help you find that perfect club you seek. Marcus Madeleine: Do come and visit the Student Council office sometime! The Vice President welcomes such impromptu visits.

And just like that… he left. The Vice President gave me a silent nod and followed suit. I suddenly realized I was surrounded by Marcus's fan club. They remained silent, but their eyes practically screamed, "Don't you dare join our club or Marcus will never come visit."

Oh wow, it’s already this late? Maybe I can squeeze in time to visit one other place.

E) I should ask someone.

I should ask everyone else what clubs they joined.

Y/N: Hey, I wanted to ask you… Eeeek!! Lovesick Classmate: Huh? Is it about clubs? Are you interested in joining the astronomy club? So am I!!

The friend that looked at me with sparkling eyes was the same friend who had dragged me off to help them confess to Serena.

Y/N: No, just forget it- …Ahhhh!

Once again, I was dragged off somewhere. This time to the astronomy club.

The astronomy club was small but well-organized. The club room was decorated with endless astronomy-related items, like a model of the solar system, various telescopes, and posters of the planets. We played around with the various equipment while waiting for someone to show up, but in the end it was just the two of us.

Lovesick Classmate: Rumor has it that the club has closed down… I guess it’s actually true.

Disappointed, my classmate left the room. What should I do…

E.A) I’ll just go home.

I guess the club really has closed down.

Y/N: Hey, wait up! You’re the one that dragged me here!

I quickly ran after my classmate.

When I came back to the classroom, it was already getting dark outside. I quickly grabbed my bag and headed outside. It’s a long way back to the main gate… Since I’m late and there’s no one around, maybe I should just go to the back entrance? But I heard the sketchy students that eat junk food and steal your lunch money hang out there sometimes… I thought about it for a moment but couldn’t resist the temptation to take the short route instead of crossing the school yard. I headed towards the back of the school.

Senior Class Bully: Hey, you there. Got some cash?

Oh no… Just me and my luck…

Y/N: This is all I have… I was going to buy a new workbook… Senior Class Bully 2: Well, well. Thanks for sharing, kid. Now run along and go play nicely somewhere else. Y/N: …Right. Derek DaChoco: …… Y/N: Derek… DaChoco…

I gave Derek a desperate look, but he acted like he didn’t know me as he leaned against the wall. But I thought… I thought we had something. Seriously… Faith in humanity shattered.

~BAD ENDING~

E.B) I’ll wait around a bit longer.

I came all this way. Waiting some more wouldn’t hurt. It’s hard to say how long passed after that. But once again, I soon felt a presence behind me. As I turned to look, I saw Serena leaning against the doorframe as she stared at me.

Y/N: Ahh! Serena Faire! Serena Faire: Hello? Ah, you’re that student I met previously… Serena Faire: Thank you for showing an interest in the astronomy club… I thought I’d always be the only member… Y/N: Oh, really? That won’t do. I mean, astronomy is so interesting… Serena Faire: The club closing would mean losing this space and all the equipment too… So I thought about what to do, but. Serena Faire: I’m simply too shy. Y/N: Oh, well. That’s okay. I came, after all! Serena Faire: ……

Serena smiled softly at my words. Her smile was so lovely and beautiful.

Serena Faire: You must have been waiting since I came late… I came just in time to see the moon rise, you see. Serena Faire: Yes, I love astronomy, but I like the moon more than anything else in the sky. Serena Faire: The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured…

As I watched Serena mumble to herself, I couldn’t help but think of how cute she was once again. Then, Serena showed me how to use the telescope to see the stars better.

Y/N: Serena… How come you like the moon so much? Serena Faire: I wonder as well… Serena Faire: When I look up at the moon… it’s as if it soothes all my pain and sorrow away. Serena Faire: So I want to be closer to it but… also feel pained that it is impossible. Serena Faire: And that makes me think… is the moon actually soothing me? Or is it making me suffer?

Serena went silent again, as if lost in deep thoughts. After staying by her for a moment I said goodbye and left the astronomy club.

F) The science club looks quiet…

Y/N: The science club looks quiet…

And Lily White seems so kind as well… I quit hesitating and made my way to the science club.

Y/N: It’s always so quiet around here… It’s kind of nice.

Y/N: Hello…? Lily, are you there? Lily White: …! Y/N? Y/N: Oh, hello. I was just dropping by, but here you are. Lily White: Mhm… I have to avoid the sunlight, so I always stay here in the lab. Lily White: What's the occasion? Is everyone being noisy again?

F.A) This'll be my secret hide-out now!

Y/N: I was thinking of making this my secret hide-out from now on! Lily White: Pardon…? Lily White: I know I said you could visit anytime you needed some peace and quiet, but… Lily White: Are you saying you'll take the lab, my peaceful sanctuary, and make it your own?

As Lily's expression turned cold, so did the atmosphere of the lab.

F.A.A) It’s not like you own the lab…

Y/N: It's not like you own the lab… Y/N: I can come whenever I want, what's wrong with that? Lily White: …

The atmosphere slowly changed for the worse.

Lily White: I see… Like I said, this school's students need to be taught many things, and they've still much to learn. Lily White: They’re so noisy and disrespectful… Lily White: It’s students like you that get in the way of me creating the perfect school. Lily White: I'll have to add classes on good manners in my next attempt… Y/N: I… Huh? What? Lily White: That's right… Perhaps project no.183452 will yield better results.

I noticed that it was suddenly getting darker outside… What was happening?

Lily White: Then I'll have to abandon this version. I learned an important lesson thanks to you, Y/N. Lily White: Thank you!

[The program will restart after the update.] After reading that sentence, I felt myself disappearing little by little… Ah… Perhaps I shouldn't have been so rude…

~BAD ENDING~

F.A.B) Just kidding, I came to see you!

Y/N: J-Just kidding! I came to see you of course! Lily White: Huh…? Me?

The air in the room turned warm and pleasant again.

Lily White: Hehe, alright. But don't joke like that again, okay?

I nodded vigorously. I had a feeling that I should definitely try to avoid making Lily angry…

F.B) Thank you for yesterday.

Y/N: No, I just wanted to thank you for yesterday. Y/N: And everyone was talking about what club to join, so I thought of the science club… Lily White: I see… That makes me happy. Lily White: You being thankful, and that you want to join the science club. Lily White: But the science club isn't accepting new members right now. Y/N: Oh, that’s too bad… Lily White: But I'll think of you as an honorary member, so please come visit anytime you'd like, Y/N. Y/N: Really? Would that be alright? Lily White: Of course. Hehe.

I felt a strange sensation in my chest as I watched Lily smile faintly, looking almost translucent in the shadows.

Y/N: Everyone I met in their clubs seemed so different from their usual selves in the classroom. Y/N: It made me realize that I had learned something new. Y/N: That people really shine when they’re doing what they love. Sometimes, it even makes you see that person in a new light. Y/N: I wonder if I have such a side to me as well…?

Before I could come up with an answer, I fell asleep with a content smile on my face.

#white lily cookie #cookie run kingdom #cr dialogue #dark choco cookie #raspberry cookie #herb cookie #madeleine cookie #sea fairy cookie

[rosietrace]

The house of Shard: Shard manor

{ + Additional stuff to add to the aesthetic }

"Now I know she'll never leave me, even as she fades from view."

- Evermore sung by Dan Stevens, Beauty and the beast (2017)

_________________________________________

Information:

Known as one of the most prominent noble families in twisted wonderland, the house of Shard continues to sit on their throne as an important member of noble society.

For centuries, the clan has birthed some of the most successful historical figures, spouses of historical figures, and children of historical figures.

Many nobles say that the thing that sets the clan apart from other noble families are their sense of "ambition". And being able to achieve said ambition.

But at the same time, their ambition led to to the demise of several members of the clan. Most famously being Amarantha Shard. Yet at the same time, members of such a clan embrace their ambitious ways despite how much it could cost their lives.

Another thing that set them apart was the conspiracies regarding their beauty. For whatever reason, the Shards used to always managed to fit the beauty standards of their respective time periods. Of course for whatever reason, this stopped after Alcina's reign as the matriarch.

As of now, the house of Shard continues to flourish under the tenacious rule of Florian Adelio Shard and his wife, Vivian Athanasia Marigold. And as said by many, it seems the future of the house lies within its "resident villainess",

Victoria Shard.

_________________________________________

{ Quotes that fit the house of Shard }

_________________________________________

"If you know someone's fear, you know them."

"Anyone can betray anyone."

"The truth is what you make it. I can set this world on fire and call it rain."

- Red Queen, Victoria Aveyard

•

"If I can't become them, I will become so much worse."

"You've only seen the least of what I can do."

"Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear."

- The folk of the air, Holly Black

•

"Better terrible truths than kind lies."

"Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough. You'll learn to like the taste."

"Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times. And it will still return."

- Six of crows duology, Leigh Bardugo

•

"Everything's a game. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win."

"Secrets, lies, all I despise. The tree is poison, don't you see? Its poisoned S and Z and me. The evidence I stole, is in the darkest hole. Light shall reveal all I write upon the..."

"A very risky gamble,"

- The inheritance games, Jennifer Lynn Barnes

•

"Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break anyway."

- The one, Keira Cass(Third book of the selection trilogy)

_________________________________________

{ Songs }

The family jewels

Money money money

Everybody wants to rule the world

Oh no!

Are you satisfied?

Skyfall

House of memories

Enemy

Doin' time

National anthem(Money is the reason we exist)

Young and beautiful

Look what you made me do

Below the surface

Teen idle

_________________________________________

Members(Most known, not including spouses) (also not in order)

Ramona, Aubrey, Renée, Amarantha

Reginald, Derrick, Leonard

Cheryl, Annabella, Alcina

Grimhilde, Florian, Victoria( Heiress )

Species

Glass Faerie

Humans mixed with glass fae blood

Fae mixed with witch blood(1st generation)

Humans mixed with witch blood(short-lived 2nd generation)

_________________________________________

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #victoria shard #oc lore #shard lore #shard family history #twisted wonderland ocs #aubrey shard #grimhilde shard #florian shard #vivian marigold #amarantha shard #ramona shard #cheryl shard #annabella shard #ya books have some good quotes tbh

[midori-laboratories]

Flowers and Ash, Chapter 11

Book 1, Calendula Chronicles series.

Story synopsis: When the eldest daughter of Edward Ashford accompanies her father and brother on a last-minute trip in 1968 to secure their legacy, an act of spite turns into a boon for the family. When tragedy and scandal strike, the survivors will have to be clever if they are to live long enough to pick up the pieces of their lives. Pre-slash/Gen.

Chapter synopsis: A trap is sprung.

CW for implied death of family member, isolation, dissociation, and violence

Everett’s nerves had seen better days.

She’d made her call to the head office from the reception phone - no one really manned the desk, and anyone trying to call in knew which extensions to use. This was really one of the few blind spots in the facility’s state-of-the-art surveillance system - the rest was for the labs, and for the grounds themselves. The lobby and the upstairs area were living quarters. This was a stressful enough place to work without overseeing every moment of their lives outside of the lab, and anyone approaching the facility would be documented well enough.

This place creeped her out. She’d only played valet a few times, and every time, it made her skin crawl. She couldn’t place the reason, exactly. Every time she went in, there was a terrible sense of dread that she wouldn’t be allowed to leave again.

For the hundredth time, she wondered if asking for a transfer would do her any good. Something in the pit of her stomach warned against pulling any attention from the higher-ups.

Blame horror movies. Blame ghost stories. Blame a million culturally-ingrained little reasons, but every instinct she had screamed at her to leave.

Ms. Ashford had not been what she had expected. Her niece, from all reports, was as tightly-wound as they came (for a ten-year-old genius), but the aunt had swept in three years prior, zeroed in on the dictator terrorizing the training facility, and just....fixed it. No disappearances, or horrid rumours, just, *fixed the problem* like a normal VP. The new lab out here was creepy, yes, but it *worked.* The scientists were all healthy and happy. The improvements showed on every level.

She’d been a little shaken the morning after that meeting, when the group of them had painted the town red the previous night in celebration. In particular, when she’d awoken in the other woman’s bed. Not that her tastes never ran in that direction, but, she was a Midwestern girl at heart. Exploring that side of herself was risky for a woman of any ambition in her line of work. Marigold had simply sat up, and arched in a lazy stretch. She’d smiled brightly, and glanced out the window. “What a lovely week this is turning out to be.”

It had never really occurred to her to find dissonance between Ashford’s seniority in the company, and how youthful she had looked in that moment, stripped of the trappings of a glamorous lifestyle she had draped about herself. Later, when she thought back on it, she would think only of the lovely warm feeling the sight of that smile had given her.

Neither of them spoke of it, afterwards. No one brought it up at work, or made the sort of leering insinuations she had come to expect from the local executive pool. But no one had said a word, and she’d gone about her life as normal.

That lovely feeling was gone now, and a sense of dread had been building in the pit of her stomach. She plucked the card from her breast pocket, looking around. The feeling kept building.

She dialed the number. A calm dissociation settled over Everrett’s mind as it began to ring.

On the third ring, and clipped British man’s voice came over the line. “Yes.”

“Vermillion effervescent hedgehogs?” She read dreamily from the card. What an odd thing to put there. It was almost like a code phrase in a spy movie. How funny! She stumbled over the thought, lost in the fog.

A long pause. “How bad?”

The words bubbled up from somewhere deep inside her. “Ghouls. They made...they know. Get out now.” Something was odd about her intonation, the cadence of her own voice. Everett couldn’t dredge up the ability to care, in that moment. This was a dream, wasn’t it? Of course it was.

The man on the other end inhaled sharply. “I understand,” he said. Then, with a touch of what sounded like grief, he said “I’m sorry,” and hung up the phone.

Everrett replaced the receiver slowly. A brief moment passed, and she shook her head, looking around. I must have been woolgathering, she thought.

The office had told her to return to the office once their business was completed. This was a good time to go. She had dropped the visiting executive off at the laboratory, with their many spare rooms and expansive grounds. No need to linger in this place any longer than strictly required.

Keys in hand, Kate Everett left the mansion, climbed into her car, and drove back to town.

“Goodbye, creepy mansion. Someone else can take this shift next time,” she muttered to herself. Better yet, there seemed to be a heliport being completed near to the lot.

She only looked back once.

---

Marigold sat very still in the plush conference room chair, head bowed and eyes closed, with hands folded primly in her lap. She’d asked for a glass of water, citing a headache. An assistant had been sent to get one from down the hall, and the two researchers watched her like a hawk, as she appeared to be collecting herself. It had bought ninety seconds at most, but it was enough. Had to be enough.

Would never be enough.

The television at the head of the table continued to show a gruesome scene. A pair of rats, one infected with the ‘T-Virus’, the other healthy were being shown in a divided cage. A series of edited cuts showed the progression of the infection over several hours, with the healthy rat moving as far back as possible from its neighbour, who was in serious, almost mutagenic decline.

After several hours, the video, narrated by Doctor Birkin, showed the infected mouse shuddering its last breath before it collapsed.

At a posted twenty minutes later, the infected rat moaned, and climbed back to its feet. Its eyes locked on its neighbour, and it lurched forward, eyes never leaving it. She had never heard a rat scream before, as far as she knew.

Marigold watched, hardening into the certainty that she wouldn’t be allowed to walk out of this place again. Little fool. What else did you expect, walking into this viper's nest? But nothing had prepared her for the true horror of it.

This was the point where she had called for a glass of water. Head down, she could still hear the tinny moans through the television, hear the increasing agitation of the other mouse. That sheer horror drove her to push harder. This was a difficult trick to pull off at the best of times, but it seemed that the burst of adrenaline in her system helped to push the message through.

A soft clink told her they had returned. Marigold opened her eyes to look dully at the glass of water. A sharp certainty came to her that there was surely more than water in that glass. She left it where it was.

On the screen, the divider had been removed, and the infected mouse had set upon the other, cutting off its screams with teeth, and blood. Moments later, they both began to wander aimlessly around the cage again, ears tracking for...something.

She looked across the table at the two researchers. A pair of security guards had stationed themselves outside the door, following the two inside.

They wore gas masks. They were also armed. Not heavily, but nonetheless.

“So,” She said, trying for a conversational tone. Her voice wavered only slightly. “You have Sonnetroppe, and made ghouls. Should I be looking for a lightning rod outside, or was it left behind with Marcus?” She should be keeping the acid out of her voice. That would be the smart thing. 

Birkin’s face contorted with contempt. “This is a breakthrough. Of course, it’s not the end goal, but all Marcus could make living matter do with Prototype was die.” He actually seemed offended at the thought of sharing credit.

Because...”Your classmates?” She asked, almost gentle. Birkin stared back at her in defiance, while Wesker’s mouth hardened into a thin line. This, what was before her, was monstrous, but monsters were made. That stupid, horrid little man.

And Spencer had orchestrated all of it. Or, had considered them acceptable collateral. A sharp spike of rage hit her. Long practice kept her stillness intact, though it was a near thing.

The video continued, with the voiceover detailing cellular activity and what the next stage of the work would bring. The tiny moans continued.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over Marigold, on the heels of her anger. She’d pushed harder than she meant to, and done it through her suppressants. The emotional toll would always cost more than just her peace of mind, on top of that. Any of those things individually tended to do a number on her.

The telephone at the conference table began to ring. “Ah,” Wesker said, reaching to turn off the video - finally, she had been on the edge of sending the glass into it like a guided missile - and smiled, like all was well in the world. “Speaking of which, there was one guest who we’ve requested to be conferenced in. He picked up the receiver, hit a button to put the call on speaker, and replaced it within the cradle.

The voice seemed mildly agitated, on the other end. “Doctor Wesker? You told me to call you right away if something happened.”

“I did.” He kept his eyes trained on Marigold, as if waiting for something to happen.

“Well, he’s on the floor, sir.” A sobbing sound could be heard in the background. Something raw and wounded was bound up in that sound. “He started screaming out of the blue a moment ago. Now he’s on the floor.” The voice sounded more intrigued than worried. “Are you testing something? Head office won’t be happy to hear that Marcus is out of commission again, even with the demotion.”

“No,” Wesker replied, meeting Marigold’s eye with a smile that was growing glacial. “A pre-existing condition, I believe. Thank you for confirming something. That will be all.” He ended to call before the other man could reply.

She looked back. “Oh dear.” she said. “Do you think I ought to send a card?”

“He likely knows you’re in town by now,” Birkin, the skeptic, said slowly, shooting an incredulous look at Wesker.

That sick feeling was returning, compounded by the headache. What had been an affectation earlier was now very much real.

“How long?” she asked. It could have meant so many things. Birkin supplied an answer, slow and with a touch of mounting horror. “No one goes from fully functional to bedridden in the course of a phone call.”

“Yes, I’m sure he was the very picture of stability while you were under his employ,” she replied coolly. “He was a vicious idiot when I met him, and not much has changed since then, it seems.”

“Hardly at all, I imagine.” Wesker almost seemed apologetic. “Spencer’s rather perplexed that you could hide something like this for so long - he seems to feel there was an exposure early in the project - but I doubt he looked too closely, considering how much your contribution brought to the company. Anyone who truly did would pick up the pattern. He seemed genuinely upset at the thought, but I doubt he was truly surprised.” He looked her up and down. “How long was the masquerade meant to last, I wonder?” He sighed when she remained silent, and stood. “Well, there’s time enough to untangle that part.”

She thought of her father.

Her niece, and nephew. Her brother, who had warned her not to push her luck for much longer. She hoped they got out in time. They still might, if this visit was only meant to test their theory.

Rockfort Island. “Tell me more about the headaches. They usually come with a spike in the exposure factor.”

Oh.

Heh.

The two researchers had stood quickly, apparently signally the guards at the door to hold the exit as they. moved to the other side of the glass. “Boys?” She called at their retreating backs. They paused in the doorway. “Are you sure about this? It won’t go the way you think it will.” She seemed to relax, rising slowly as the guards held their positions. She gave them a rueful little smile. “Everyone thinks they’re more clever than anyone else around,” she continued, almost to herself. Birkin shot her a startled look, then shut the door behind them.

A steel-tipped fountain pen laid by her hand, inlaid with the Umbrella logo. She picked it up thoughtfully, smiling at the guards as if they had just arrived for tea. A hissing sound above her head told her that some sort of gas was being released into the room. She’d have to move fast. “Gentlemen,” she said, “I do apologize for this.”

Reaching down, she hefted the heavy table up to flip it over in the direction of her would-be assailants as if it were made of matchsticks, and began to advance upon the door.

Time to let go.

---

Something was wrong with her eyes. The room swam in and out of focus while she stumbled along the corridor towards the exit.

Somewhere along the way, she’d lost her pen.

(the guard rushing towards her, his comrade crying weakly, struggling to free his broken legs from under the table. A lateral hammer blow embedded the lethally sharp tip through his temple)

Their reinforced door of the conference room had been reasonably strong, but it was easy to forget about walls. She’d made her own exit with very little fuss, to the horror of onlookers.

(stepping through the hole, covered in drywall dust and splashed in the blood of the guards. She’d make a very effective poltergeist if she weren’t so damned grim. Her glasses are abandoned and cracked on the floor. Her smart blazer, ripped while she was ‘remodeling’, now discarded. A small combat knife had been tucked into a sheath at her back- good tailoring had made it easy to miss. Should anyone here survive, they’ll start screening guests for weapons after this)

The two researchers had called for backup quickly. On her right, a vaguely familiar-looking brunette in her late thirties came rushing past her, throwing herself at the guards with fury, tearing at their weapons and helmets with her bare hands. More running footsteps followed. Someone screamed to lock down the level.

While the gas hadn’t quite taken her down, it had had some effect. She felt oddly drunk, weaving and pushing her way through the corridor towards the elevator, towards the exit. To hell with it. She might as well earn her punishment.

Someone fired a shot. A sharp pain passed through her shoulder. She looked down to see a trickle of blood from the wound, rapidly closing. She turned toward the terrified gaggle of guards, swaying slightly on her feet. The moment seemed to stretch out unbearably between them.

One of the arriving guards stepped up and shot the frenzied woman attacking them in the head, snapping the rest out of their fugue. The footsteps were getting closer; screams rang out above them, on the administrative level.

Marigold looked up, startled, “’S a new one,” she muttered. She’d suspected that this could happen, but it had been a theory. She had worked so hard to make sure it was only ever a theory.

The freshly murdered operations manager, a woman she’d had drinks with at a post-meeting social three years earlier, stared lifelessly at the ceiling, with more above ready to follow her into the abyss. The ones upstairs would follow her without a second thought. Because of her.

She really was a monster.

The room was starting to spin. Had to keep moving. The headache was progressing to the point where she was seeing spots in her vision, and that was never a good sign. It seemed to be eating the entire world.

A tall man in a labcoat and gas mask (cold) flashed in her periphery. Before she could respond, she felt a sharp pinch at her neck. Someone stepped firmly on the back of her knee, pushing her to the ground with a firm hand wrapped around the back of her neck as she lost the battle to stay upright.

She’d managed her human contact through clinical means and barriers of all kinds for years. Overtaxed and desperate, the hand pressing on the back of her neck made her cry out in shock. Marigold barely felt the restraints on her wrists clamp down as she tipped over the edge of consciousness, and the world quite suddenly went away.

#calendula chronicles #flowers and ash #marigold ashford #albert wesker x oc #pre slash #resident evil fanfiction

[can-of-pringles]

Mud Puddles

Rating: Gen

Warnings: None

Word Count: 800

Summary: Marigold and Rosie decide to go on a quick walk but get rained on.

Also Read On AO3

The house was rather quiet without Marigold and Rosie in it. The two had gone on a quick walk, leaving Peter by himself.

“They said that they’ll only be gone for a little bit, I guess I can finally watch something other than reruns of DuckTales or My Little Pony.” He thought.

Maybe Rosie got away with too much control of what they watched. He’d probably end up discussing it with Marigold later.

The sound of gentle raindrops hitting the windows got his attention. He looked and saw the rain steadily increase by the second.

The forecast for the day said that there could be a possibility of rain, but Marigold and Rosie took a chance outside, anyway.

“Oh, great,” Peter muttered sarcastically.

As soon as he decided to watch TV on his own, he heard a loud knock at the door.

“There goes my free time.” He sighed, turning the TV back off.

He stood and sped to the door, opening it.

On the porch Marigold and Rosie stood, completely drenched from the rain shower. Their clothes appeared to be covered in mud stains as well.

Rosie shivered furiously. It reminded Peter of a little puppy after being in the cold.

“Hey, you two, guess the weatherman was right after all.” Peter chuckled humorlessly.

Marigold glanced at Rosie and gave her an annoyed look. “This one here thought it would be fun to splash in the mud puddles on our way home.” She sighed. “I tried stopping her, but she splashed mud on me too.” Marigold frowned.

Rosie giggled, and her teeth chattered. “Sorry…”

“Looks like it’s bath time,” he said.

Marigold nodded. She helped take off Rosie’s mud-covered shoes, then her own. They left them on the porch until they had time to clean them. And there was no way they’d wear them inside, only to track mud through the house; not on Marigold’s watch.

With just socks on, they walked inside and stood in the foyer.

Marigold stood for a second and shivered. With the terrible texture of wet clothes draped on her skin, and the loud rain sound outside, her brain was having a hard time focusing. She tried to think of what to do.

Peter noticed she was getting overloaded.

“I’ll go give Rosie a bath, and you can go take a shower, sound good?” He said.

She nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” Marigold helped Rosie take off her jacket. Then Marigold took off her own, leaving them to hang dry on the rack by the door.

“Ok, come with me, you little mud gremlin.” Peter took Rosie’s hand and led her to the bathroom.

Marigold smiled and left to take a shower in their bathroom.

---

“No—no, don’t eat the bubble, it’s not like food,” Peter warned. “It’s gross."

Rosie had a tiny frown on her face. “Ok…”

She sat in the bubble bath while Peter cleaned her.

“Don’t you think it would be gross?” He asked.

“I thought it was like toothpaste,” she replied honestly.

“No, sweetie, it’s soap; it tastes nothing like toothpaste,” Peter explained. “At least, I don’t think it would taste like soap… I’m not sure we should test that!” He had a grossed-out expression on his face to make her laugh.

Rosie giggled. She splashed the bubbly water.

“Hey, you’re going to get me covered in bubbles and water if you’re not careful, who’s taking the bath here, you or me?” He chuckled.

She grinned. “Can I have a rubber duckie?”

“Yeah, hold on.” Peter reached into the basket of bath toys they kept by the tub.

The Rosales-Maximoffs probably had the biggest collection of rubber ducks in the neighborhood. The ducks being in all sizes and colors. Put all together, they probably could make a duck rainbow.

“Uh, which one?”

“The small purple one!” The little girl cheered.

Peter handed her the toy, and she dunked it in the water.

“Did you know purple’s the color of royalty? I guess that makes you the duck princess,” he said.

“I’m the duck princess!” She smiled.

“Heck, yeah you are!”

---

After the finished bath, Rosie was back to being clean.

“Arms up,” Peter instructed. He wrapped the towel around her and picked her up out of the tub.

He worked on drying her with her towel until she was dry, then helped dress her in clean clothes.

“Good job, duckling!” He gave her a high five. “Next time, try staying out of the mud, please?” Peter chuckled tiredly.

“Ok, Daddy.” Rosie smiled.

“Go see if your mom is done and out there waiting in the living room,”

She nodded and ran out of the bathroom, shouting ‘Mommy, I’m clean!’

Peter turned his attention back to the splashed water he had to clean up.

“Time to get to work, I guess.” He shrugged.

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #dad!peter maximoff #peter maximoff fanfiction #evan peters fanfiction #peter maximoff x oc #xmen #x-men #kid fic #xmen oc #rose rosales maximoff #spectra #fankid #marigold rosales #leapsecond #quicksecond #my writing #pringles writing #xmen oc au

[baenxietydad]

Swynrpwrimo Task #5 -- Family Ties One-Shot

[tracker]

Write a one-shot revolving around your character’s family, include 3 family members minimum. (This can include whatever your character’s definition of family is.)

Date: October 9th, 2004

Scene: Nemo's first birthday celebration in the Daegu pixie hollow on Biseulsan (Biseul Mountain)

Feat.: Song So-yeon (Mu-yeol's wife, Nemo's mother), Bae Tae-il (Mu-yeol's father), Kim Sae-ron (Mu-yeol's mother), Bae Su-mi (Mu-yeol's sister), Bae Won-shik and Bae Jun-ha (Mu-yeol's twin brothers), Song Soon-ja (So-yeon's sister), other extended family mentioned

PSA: I know Koreans do a big 100 days celebration for babies, I'm not entirely sure if the first birthday is as big of a deal. But in Korean fairy culture in the world of this rp, they make a huge deal out of both 100 days and 1 year, and the 1 year celebration is for both the baby and their parents.

Here's Nemo's lil baby hanbok :3 the phoenix is very important! and his parents' matching set

Mu-yeol held his breath as he gingerly placed the flower crown on the baby's head. Mu-yeol's mother had made matching flower crowns from marigolds (for babies born in October), red spider lily (a beautiful red autumn flower), and mugunghwa (for human Koreans, it is the national flower; for Koran fairies, it is a flower with spiritual importance) for her grandson and his parents, but getting Nam-min to wear it...that was a problem for Mu-yeol and So-yeon to solve. Kim Sae-ron had wrestled flower crowns onto all four of her children, she'd done her time.

So-yeon and Soon-ja watched over Mu-yeol's shoulder, vision partially obscured by his nervously fluttering blue wings, their hands clasped together as the sisters waited to see if the child would start wailing again.

Nam-min only kicked his feet and let out a singular grunt, and his parents and imo let out the breath they'd been holding.

"Okay, it seems like the diaper change did the trick." Mu-yeol said, his shoulders relaxing.

"I told you. I know my baby so well, don't I?" So-yeon said, stepping forward to poke Nam-min's little cheek. She smiled at Soon-ja, he younger sister, and gestured to her son. "Doesn't he look regal?"

"That's one word for it." Soon-ja said, smirking. It was always so funny to see babies in full formal dress. "He's lovely. And cute. But I'm not saying I ever want one of those things."

So-yeon laughed and adjusted the decoration in her sister's hair. "And I'm not saying you should get one. But if you ever did, I'll give you all of Nam-min's things. We're not having another."

Pregnancy had been hard on So-yeon. She'd been terribly sick the first four months but when that finally stopped, food didn't taste quite right, her feet always hurt, she couldn't sleep or sit comfortably, and she always felt like she had to pee but couldn't seem to empty her bladder. She would not be doing that again. Mu-yeol was incredibly lucky to get one child from her seeing as neither of them were even sure they wanted kids until she got pregnant. Their Nam-min was perfect, he was everything to them, but his parents were decidedly one-and-done.

"You're not?" Bae Jun-ha asked. Not that he cared, he just couldn't imagine not having siblings.

"Ma! Bae Jun-ha, do you know how much So-yeon and our mother had to suffer giving birth?" Mu-yeol hissed, slipping an arm around So-yeon's waist.

Kim Sae-ron laughed as she brought over a plate of colorful songpyeon to set on the table.

"You've trained my son well, I see."

"Ani." So-yeon held up her hands and shook them. "That's all him, eomeonim. He's a good husband all on his own. All of my married friends are jealous."

Bae Tae-il looked around the Bae family's home, at his four children, his brothers and their children, and noticed two people conspicuously missing. "So-yeon-ah. Where are your parents?"

Her face fell as she leaned over Nam-min to make sure his flower crown didn't slip. "Ah...eomma had court today. Couldn't be rescheduled. We'll do something with them tomorrow so they can see Nam-min before we take the train back to Seoul. Anyway. It doesn't matter, there's plenty of people here. Omo- Su-mi-yah, do you want help with that?"

Su-mi was struggling to light the fire, where they were to burn items that represented the challenges of the first year raising a child. That's part of why this celebration of a child's first year in pixie hollows was called a Phoenix Ceremony. The child's parents are, in a way, just beginning to rise from the ashes of a total upheaval (albeit a joyful one) of their lives that comes with a new baby, and the child was just beginning, nothing but a sapling in need of strength who would live to see a lot of joy but would eventually struggle too.

"Ma, noonaya! 만다꼬 (man-da-kko)?" Bae Won-shik said. "So-yeon noonim's sister is here. She's a fire fairy!"

Soon-ja giggled and joined Su-mi by the fire. Su-mi blushed, embarrassed she'd forgotten and was struggling in front of everybody.

*~.*~.*~.*~.*~.*~.*~.

After the extended family had cleared out of the Bae family home, Bae Tae-il scooped little Nam-min up and walked over to where Mu-yeol and So-yeon were sitting.

"Answer honestly. Everyone else is gone." Tae-il said, smiling down at Nam-min. "How has the first year been?"

So-yeon shook her head. "Not as bad as everyone said it would be. Not in most ways. We definitely do feel the lack of a Hollow community though, and that makes some things harder. But not impossible."

Mu-yeol nodded in agreement. "He's a good baby, abeoji. He was harder on her before he was born than he is now. He settled into a good sleep routine within three months except for when he's teething."

Tae-il was silent as he gently removed Nam-min's flower crown. "Will you return to the Hollow?"

Mu-yeol sighed, about to start an argument, but So-yeon answered first.

"We're not sure. Personally, I miss it. I miss Daegu. Seoul is too busy, too crowded, too loud and bright. But I-- I like being able to control how often my mother sees Nam-min. She always brings up his wing." So-yeon pouted. "He'll be old enough to understand what she's saying one day."

"That's very fair. I only ask because...well, he gets bigger every time we see him." Tae-il said, chuckling and adjusting the baby in his arms. "You know you can ask us to come from Daegu anytime you need us. Don't let Mu-yeol tell you I won't."

"You hate going into human cities." Mu-yeol countered.

"But I'll do it for you, to help with him. It's important for new parents to have their Hollow around them, but So-yeon has school...so I can always come to you."

"Abeonim, thank you." So-yeon said, reaching for Nam-min.

"Don't thank me, you're my kids." Tae-il said, setting Nam-min in her arms. "He's an adorable baby. He takes after his mother."

So-yeon stuck her tongue out at Mu-yeol. "That's what I'm always saying!"

#swynrpwrimomak #swynrpwrimo

[thefantasybotanist]

If I see another edible flower post that's like "ten best tasting edible flowers" or "these are delicious" and has marigolds on them, I will scream. No wonder people aren't interested in eating flowers. Why would you eat marigolds when literally any other edible flower exists?

#brief rant #edible flowers #marigolds are terrible tasting #grow them for the color and the anti bug qualities #not for eating #you psychopaths

[luvdsc]

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind.  Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng?  Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my  friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.”  is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

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[sunlightheidi]

Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC

AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".

"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."

- Forest, Fancy Hagood

Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.

It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.

There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.

And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.

He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.

You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.

You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.

There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.

Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.

But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.

You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.

Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.

If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.

The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.

He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.

The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.

Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.

You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.

He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.

So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.

He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.

In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.

He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.

It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.

He bows, deeply. “Princess.”

And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.

In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.

“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”

He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”

“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.

“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”

“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”

An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.

“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.

He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”

A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.

“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”

“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”

Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”

He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”

“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.

“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”

Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.

“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”

Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.

“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”

He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.

“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”

Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.

“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”

He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.

You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.

“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.

From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.

“I love you, with everything that I possess.”

“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”

“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”

You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”

“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”

“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”

The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.

And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.

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