#then again they count the new lion king as a live action *shrugs*

[jightknight]

As much as the one piece live action looks awesome.

(And I am 100% going to watch it)

Im so confused as why everything needs a live action adaptaion these days. Like whats wrong with watching the animation.

Look how cool it is

And so much effort gets put into making them. Idk might just be me.

[reidingandwriting]

"Deja Vu"

Word Count: ~2300 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (ex/platonic?), Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Warnings: A curse word or two, slightly OOC moments but it is fan-fiction so :)

A/N: I'm in love with this song and had to write this. Popped this baby out in 3 hours, and I'm pretty happy with it. Side note: I created my own timeline for this lmao. Morgan exists, but they don't live in the cabin. Reader is mentioned to be fem once or twice, but reads neutral besides that! Reader is Tony's kid but it could be read as adopted/his bio kid.

“One strawberry ice cream, just for you.” Peter said as he set the cup down in front of MJ, a single spoon dipped in the light pink dessert. MJ immediately started to eat as Peter took a seat beside her, and you and Ned were seated across from the couple at a local ice cream shop you had discovered. The one where you had taken him, where you had convinced him to try the strawberry ice cream instead of the vanilla he always got. You scooped a spoonful of your rocky road ice cream a little too aggressively, unable to eat your favorite ice cream flavor anymore.

“Thanks, Parker, it’s really good.” MJ said and Peter nudged her shoulder.

“Mind if I steal a bite?’

“Of course I mind.” MJ deadpanned and Peter blanched before MJ smirked at him. “Go ahead, loser. Just one.” MJ gave him a look and Peter saluted.

“Scout’s honor.” Peter took MJ’s spoon before he took a bite, and you barely held back the scowl as you looked over at Ned. He gave you a sympathetic smile and tapped his foot against yours under the safety of the booth. You brushed your shoulder against Ned’s while Peter and MJ were too entranced by each other to notice.

“If you get any ice cream on my jacket, I’m burning yours.” MJ’s words were menacing, but you all knew she was (mostly) kidding. Peter scoffed and held his hand against his chest in mock offense, the sleeves of MJ’s jean jacket comedically too short on Peter’s arms. MJ was dressed in Peter’s Midtown hoodie, the same one you had worn just a few months ago.

You thought it would have been funny to switch jackets, knowing your jacket would look funny on him, while you wore Peter’s oversized hoodie. And now here was MJ, wearing the same sweatshirt, while Peter wore her jacket. Have any original ideas, Parker?

“Earth to Y/N.” MJ waved her hand in your face, and you snapped back to the present. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, sorry. Morgan decided she wanted a sleepover last night, so we just had to build a pillow fort in my room, and that felt fantastic on my back. Almost as great as her practically laying on top of me all night.” You chuckled. “And you know I couldn’t move her, she’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“And she knows it.” Peter said and you smiled over at him.

“Speaking of Morgan. She’s been asking me all week about if you want to come over sometime this weekend. She’s in a big Lion King phase, and she wants ‘her Petey’ to come have a pajama party with her and have a sing-along. She’s Nala, of course.” Ned snorted and Peter’s face fell.

“I can’t this weekend. MJ and I are having a Glee watch party this weekend, can you believe she’s never seen Glee?” Peter asked and you felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach.

“Oh, really?” You asked. Much like you hadn’t seen it either, until six months ago. “It’s pretty iconic, but also the worst show ever. Singing along is pretty fun, just being annoying. Really fun.” You thought back to when you and Peter were in your room, doing the same thing.

“Don’t stop believing!” Peter stood on your bed, using the remote as a microphone to serenade you. Peter looked at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes before singing the next line, just as enthusiastically as he did.

“Hold on to the feeling!” Peter cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re so annoying, Parker.”

“As annoying as this show?”

“Almost.”

“Then I’m not quite done yet.”

“Raincheck next weekend, maybe?” Peter asked and you shrugged.

“I’ll have to check with Madame Secretary. She’ll likely be over The Lion King by next weekend, it’ll be ‘baby stuff.’” Your phone buzzed and you excused yourself before checking the text.

Iron Dad: Hey, kid. Are you busy?

You: A little. Why?

Iron Dad: Pep and I have an emergency meeting for work, and Happy’s sick so he can’t watch Maguna

You: I’m on my way. Give me five to say goodbye

Iron Dad: Thanks, Y/N/N. We owe you one

You: You owe me several. Love you

Iron Dad: Love you tons

“I’m sorry, guys, duty calls.” You smiled, albeit a little sadly, at your friends. “I’ll see you Monday at school?”

“We better. We have a project in chemistry due on Monday.” Ned said and you flipped him off.

“Science is my best class, you know I’ve had the project done and Dr. Banner approved since the project was announced in class.” You winked at Ned before waving at MJ and Peter. “See you later, lovebirds.” You internally cringed when ‘lovebirds’ came out more bitter than you intended. With goodbyes exchanged, you left the ice cream parlor, and you bit back the tears you felt beginning to build up. Did he feel it, too? Did he remember that you did that, too? Was he ever going to tell her all the ‘unique’ things Peter’s done were reused, that you had found them first? You wiped at your eyes before you hailed a taxi, and you shoved all your feelings down to be at your best for your little sister.

--

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Morgan barreled down the hall when you stepped out of the elevator, and you barely bent down to catch her in time as she collided with you.

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan!” You scooped your sister up into your arms and peppered her face with kisses until she was laughing, and your mood immediately lifted at the sound. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Mom’s at work, Dad’s in his room. He’s leaving us.” Morgan pouted and you copied her expression.

“Oh, no. You’re stuck with me tonight. Too bad I’m not tall enough to reach the juice pops in the freezer.” You gasped. “Oh, wait. I am!” Morgan thrusted her fist into the air with a cheer, and you set her down. “I need to go talk to Dad real quick, then we can do almost whatever you want.” You emphasized the almost, knowing she’d ask for something you definitely shouldn’t do, then argue that you said ‘anything.’ You definitely saw a career in law for her when she got older.

“Kay-kay. I’ll go get coloring books, then we get juice pops?”

“Deal.” You offered your pinky out, and she linked pinkies with yours before she ran off to her room. You shook your head fondly before you walked off to your dad’s room, and you knocked on his door before coming in. “Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo. Come on in, I’m just packing a few things for Pep.” You walked over to the bag your dad had packed, and you began to inspect everything. “Have I been approved?”

“I think I need a hug before giving approval.” You opened your arms and your dad happily pulled you into his chest, and he held you close, as if he could sense your feelings.

“Are you okay? Do I need to stay?” Tony rubbed your back and rocked you gently, and you buried your face deeper into his chest, your eyes watering and you gripped his shirt tighter, a habit you developed when Tony first took you in- you always grabbed onto him like he was your security blanket, and Tony quickly learned there was no use in getting you to let go until you were ready.

“No, I’m okay.” Your voice was muffled but you made no effort to move yet. “Mom needs you.” You paused. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Luckily we’re just headed to the New York headquarters. I hope we’re home by midnight, but I’ll tell you when we find out for sure.” You nodded and let go of your dad, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, and he wiped your tears away with his thumb and the action almost made you cry again. “Ben and Jerry’s and sad movies when I get back, or should I get a few punching bags set up in the gym?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.” Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you patted his arm, telling him he could continue packing. “ Don’t forget Mom’s favorite lipstick. She always keeps one on her, but you can never be too safe.”

“Lifesaver.” Tony said before he went back to packing.

“I should go check on Morgan, let you finish getting packed.” You said and Tony smiled at you, a softness in his eyes reserved solely for you, Morgan, and Pepper.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best big sister?”

“I do my best.” You smile back before leaving. Fingers crossed she hadn’t made a mess already.

--

You laid in bed, scrolling through your camera roll with tears streaming down your cheeks. You pressed play on a video and let out a choked sob as you watched. You and Peter were seated at the piano in the living room, and your fingers moved gracefully across the keys, playing one of your favorite songs that Peter had begged you to play for him. The familiar sounds of Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ filled your ears, and you sang along as you played. You turned to Peter, nodded at him, and he began to play the same song after you. You hugged him at the end of the song, grinning since he had finally learned it, and you began to play it again, Peter joining you in singing along. Not even that was reserved for you and him anymore, as you had learned recently.

“I didn’t know you played.” You said as MJ took a seat at the piano, Peter seated beside her.

“Oh, I just learned. Peter taught me the one song he knows how to play.” Your heart sank and now Ned was curious.

“What song?” Don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Uptown Girl.” MJ began to play, and you felt your lip begin to tremble. Your song. The one you had taught him. You looked away as Peter quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek after the first chorus, and he whispered something into her ear. You turned to Ned and dove deep into a conversation, refusing to cry in front of them.

You jumped when you heard a knock on your window, and you grabbed the baseball bat you kept by your bed. You would have called for Bucky or Sam, but the pair were off on their own mission. You got out of bed, wiping away your tears, and you walked to the window, bat at the ready. “FRIDAY, who’s getting knocked to next year with my bat?”

“It appears Peter Parker is the one outside your window.” Peter? Of course it was.

“Lights on dim, FRI.” You set the bat down and opened the window, and Peter popped into view. “Peter? What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack, dude.”

“I’m sorry, I know, sorry. I didn’t plan on coming out here, but I needed to talk to you.” You gestured for Peter to come in, and you suddenly realized how you had to look to him. You were in a shirt you had stolen from Thor- what? His shirt got mixed up with yours, finders keepers. You were in an old pair of sweatpants that were covered in various stains- paint from Morgan, some grease from Tony’s lab, and a bleach mark from where you and Peter were goofing around in the lab and you spilled some mystery chemical on your pants. And let’s not even talk about your puffy eyes and the tear marks on your cheeks from a night of crying.

“About what?” You sat on your bed, eyes not meeting Peter’s.

“About earlier at the ice cream parlor. You seemed really… spaced out. Not yourself. And I caught you scowling once.”

“I didn’t scowl.” You tried to defend yourself but you sighed, knowing he was right.

“And ever since MJ and I started dating, you’ve just seemed different. You’re not, like, jealous, are you?” And you couldn’t help but laugh. Truly laugh, which caused Peter’s brows to furrow. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I’m jealous! Why should I be jealous?” Peter frowned at how you weren’t taking him seriously, and he was confused.

“You know, we had… a thing. Not that we dated, but I mean, we were really close you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Like a switch, your emotions flipped from sad to frustrated in seconds. “And I’m seeing all these ‘things’ we had all over again.” It was Peter’s turn to start getting irritated, and he crossed his arms.

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Strawberry ice cream at the parlor, you can’t act like we didn’t do that. Trading jackets, we did that shit too. Teaching her piano when I taught you, how do you not get deja vu?” Peter opened his mouth to talk and you held your hand up. “You’ve got a different girl, but there’s nothing new. I discovered those places you take her, I showed you Glee, I taught you the jokes that you tell to her. When are you gonna tell her? She thinks it’s special, but it’s all reused. I know I get deja vu, don’t you?” You had started to cry again, and Peter started to defend himself until FRIDAY spoke.

“Y/N, your father and mother have returned home. You may want to continue this conversation later.” You looked at Peter who wordlessly nodded. He walked to the window, and he paused before he spoke.

“We’ll talk Monday after patrol. Bye, Y/N/N.” You whispered goodbye before he left and you shut the window before you dropped to your knees, letting out broken sobs.

“I get deja vu when she’s with you…”

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Peter version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader Warnings: emotional ending but happy! Word Count: 2.8k Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia? A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! SOOOO emotional! I never thought of writing both versions of the ending BUT I’m so glad I did so thank you to whoever suggested it!!! I envisioned Y/N picking Caspian, but this ending is gold :) 

Masterlist 

The whole Talmarine kingdom, as well as Narnians, have gathered in the courtyard for the ceremony. Aslan has made the decision to allow some Talmarines to leave Narnia if they choose. Apparently, Talmarines are like the Pevensies and myself I suppose, they're from our world. They traveled to Narnia centuries ago by accident and made a home here. Caspian speaks to his people with such ease as he encourages them to consider the offer. He's a natural-born leader. He's meant to be Narnia's future king. As I come to this conclusion, I take Peter's hand beside me. He glances down at me, having not expected the action. Nonetheless, he gives my hand a comforting squeeze and offers me a gentle smile of reassurance.

"Are you alright?" He questions in a whisper with a tad of worry resting on his brows.

"I just... when we got here I would've done anything to go back home. Now that the war is over and Miraz is gone, I've come to realize I'm quite fond of Narnia," I explain my predicament.

Peter chuckles lightly, pleased with the news considering how much he adores this place. "I always hoped you would. Whenever I told you about Narnia, I wished I could've shown it to you. I'm glad you came with us this time. Now you understand," he reasons.

General Glozelle and Miraz's wife, Prunaprismia, volunteer first with her baby. In honor of their bravery, Aslan blesses them with a good future. The pair walk toward the tree that Aslan has made part in half. Everyone watches in awe the General and former Queen disappear in a blink. My lips part in astonishment. I don't think I'll ever get used to magic. Gasps fall across the crowd and people begin to question Aslan's intentions. They fear this is all a trick.

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

In my defense, it's justified. Peter never asked for my opinion. He's deciding for me. Aslan... Aslan made it out to seem as though I had a choice, as though we all would have at least some more time here. "Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan voices. "Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live on their own." Aslan comforts each of us with his wisdom.

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

He offers me a weak smile, not one that shows genuine happiness, but contentment. I ease my hand out to glide it into his, but something stops me. A feeling in my chest telling me not to settle as Peter as with his decision. I shift my head toward Aslan to ask the lion directly. "And what about me?"

My patience is growing thin. All this back-and-forth yet I haven't heard a concrete answer about where I belong. Aslan is constantly confusing me with his tricky wording. One minute he makes me believe that finding him wasn't my purpose for coming here and the next he's telling Peter that his time here is over. I belong where Peter is, I always have. If his purpose is in our world... then so is mine. Then, does that mean I'm like Edmund and Lucy? Am I destined to return in the future? How far in the future? Narnian time is different from ours, who knows how many years will pass before we're here again. It could be another thousand years in Narnian time. "Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

So, after all this time, after all the back-and-forth, Aslan is guiding me toward Peter. He made it sound as though I had to make this life-altering decision. The first few days we were here, I would've given anything to go back home. I never wanted to be in Narnia. Now that I have my chance to get out and everyone is rushing me out the door, I'm digging my heels into the dirt begging for a moment's pause. All this time Aslan has been pressing me to make a decision, why do I feel as though he's making it for me? It's suffocating.

I glance between Aslan and Peter nervously. Aslan wears his usual gentle and patient smile while Peter is confused with furrowed brows. His hand remains out to me, lingering for mine to join it. I whip my head around and my eyes land on Caspian. His features fall as he comes to terms with my departure. I approach the future King solemnly. All I can keep thinking is 'more time! More time! If only we had more time!' I can't visualize who the 'we' is exactly. When I say it, all I can think of is the riverbank in the forest. I see myself lying beside the river in the plush green, flower-covered, grass. The warmth of the golden sun scatters over my skin. I spent time with both Peter and Caspian there. What I would give to return to those moments. Whether I'm hoping it's with Peter or Caspian, I can't see. Each of them matters to me, on what level I can't decide.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am. I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Caspian expresses a faint smile, amused by my humor, but too solemn to fully be happy. Both of us pull the other into an embrace. The words continue to repeat in my mind. 'More time! More time! If only we had more time!' I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep trench and I'm stuck wondering whether I should jump. Caspian and I part from one another. It's painful. I feel safe with him, more secure and understood than I ever have before. I don't want to let go, but at the same time, I'm yearning to cling to Peter.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak. "At least not yet... not until I know that I've done what I must do."

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily, looking to me to decide.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice," I do my best to word it less harshly to the little one. "Staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"Neither choice is wrong," Aslan injects as he moves to stand beside Peter and me. "Going back to your world would mean you would return with Edmund and Lucy. After that, your life will be as you've always envisioned with who you envisioned. Staying here would be as you've envisioned as well," Aslan explains, giving me a knowing look. "You will prosper in both worlds, in whichever you decide."

Does Aslan know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about the riverbank? Is that what he's referring to? Does he mean that if I stay in Narnia I'll be with Caspian? If I return to England Peter and I will be together? Choosing a world also means choosing between Peter and Caspian.

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

"I didn’t understand it at first, but Aslan told me something earlier today. He said, ‘as much as we wish we could, sometimes we can’t choose who we love, the world chooses for us.’ You’re needed here. This is why you were brought here with us. When Caspian called for us with the horn, he unknowingly was calling to you as well."

I switch my gaze between Caspian and Peter frantically. Both of them meet my gaze with eagerness, wondering what I'll choose, as does everyone else.

"So I will return with Lucy and Edmund in the future if I go home?" I clarify with Aslan, hoping for a direct answer.

"Yes, if that's what you decide, Child," he nods.

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

I can tell he's doing his best to stay strong for my sake. Tears flow from his eyes silently and the sight pierces my heart.

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

Peter shakes his head as his eyes become glossy. "It won’t forever. We’ll both grow and find that which we were destined to. I always thought we would find that together," he chuckles softly, it's bitter-sweet. "But this is right," he speaks with certainty.

"But I’ll never see you again," I comprehend the harsh reality of it all. "I... I don't want that! I can't imagine my life without you in it! You've always been there and I... haven't I lost enough people already? How many more goodbyes must I say?"

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

This isn't fair. None of this is fair! In choosing Narnia, in choosing a different life for myself, I'm losing my best friend. I'm losing the one person who kept me going, who gave me a reason to survive.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

I nod repeatedly, holding onto every syllable. I pray and hope, that he's right. Peter pulls me into his chest and I wrap my arms around him for dear life. I grip the fabric of his loose shirt in my fists. His hand cradles my head as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Do the ones we love ever truly leave us? Is the memory of them strong enough to keep us going in their absence? I doubt a day will pass by where Peter doesn't cross my mind or any of the Pevensies for that matter.

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone-hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

When the moment comes for the Pevensies to return to London, I hold onto Peter's hand as I approach the tree with them. His siblings walk a step ahead as Peter walks backward to face me. Until the last second, we hold on.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

Our hands begin to slip as Peter backs away toward the cliff between the tree halves and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare into his sea-glass eyes and the seconds travel rapidly by. In a blink, he's gone, disappeared from my world.

A gasp escapes my lips at the sight. My arm falls to my side as tears glide down my cheeks. My heart sinks as reality hits me that I'll never see Peter ever again as long as we're alive. An arm wraps around my waist, supporting me. Caspian appears in my peripheral vision as my eyes remain locked on the open space beneath the tree.

"It’ll be okay," he reassures me as he rubs his hand up and down my back.

I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. A deep sense of emptiness consumes me inch by inch starting from my heart.

"As long as you've done what's right by your conscious and your heart, you could never be wrong, Dear One," Aslan advises smoothly.

I stare ahead at the tree, waiting for Peter to reappear though I know he'll never come. Have I done wrong? If this is what's meant to happen, why does it hurt so much? This is agony.

Caspian tries to usher me away, "come, Y/N, we can go back to-"

"No!" I blurt out suddenly, making him halt.

My eyes search the tree in a panic and then I turn to Caspian. "I'm sorry... I... I can't do this!"

The prince's features fall as he processes my words. "But..."

"I'm so sorry Caspian," I cry. "I love Narnia and I'm so glad that we've met but..." I glance over at the empty space where Peter last stood with a deep sigh. "I don't think I can be truly happy here if a piece of me is elsewhere."

Caspian swallows hard, clenching his jaw to withhold his emotions. "You love him," he determines.

Knowing that in choosing Peter I'm hurting Caspian is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Yet, it wasn't until Peter vanished from my sight did I come to realize that the answer to my million questions was right there in front of me this whole time. It's Peter, it's always been, Peter.

I lean up and plant a kiss on Caspian's lips, one last kiss. He deepens the kiss and it's a bitter-sweet farewell. When we part, he wraps his arms around me in an embrace. I wrap my arms around him tightly, holding onto the hope that Aslan is right and one day we may see each other again.

"One day," I mutter against his chest. "One day I hope we're reunited."

Caspian parts from me and expresses a weak smile as he brushes his hand against my cheek, wiping away the remaining tears. "I'll count the days until your return."

“I pray it’s soon,” I confess. “I fear I’ll miss you more than I can bare.” 

In choosing Peter, I lose Caspian. In choosing Caspian, I lose Peter. Neither choice is painless. 

I glance toward the lion, "so am I right about this?"

I can’t leave without being sure. 

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

I switch my gaze to Trumpkin, the crowd of Narnians, and Telemarines. All of them await my next move. Swiftly, I plant a kiss on Caspian's cheek, preparing to rush after the Pevensies. I turn toward the tree with a smile, knowing in my heart this is right. I turn my back to the tree and begin to back away from Caspian as Peter did to me. I hold onto the Prince's hand until the last moment. Our fingertips barely touching.

"Goodbye for now," I phrase lightheartedly with a soft grin.

"Farewell-"

Caspian's words are cut short as my vision changes from the courtyard to a chaotic train station. I'm standing in the middle of the platform as people move about me. The peace of the courtyard is replaced with deafening noise. I blink rapidly, piecing together what's happened. I glance down at my clothes and I'm in my school uniform again. My hair wisps around as a train flies through the station. I'm back, I'm back in London! Peter. I need to find him!

Frantically, I shift between people, rushing through the station to find the Pevensies. They have no idea I'm here. It'll be like a needle in a haystack with everyone dressed in the same uniforms. Perhaps they're where we left for Narnia, by the bench! As the idea pops into my mind, I begin to run. I scan each head, each face, all looking for one. Then, in a flash, I spot the blonde speckled hair I've been longing to see. Peter paces in front of the bench, his eyes on the floor and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. His cheeks are red and his eyes bloodshot. His sisters and brother are huddled together by the bench, likely discussing their departure and my decision to stay. Little do they know...

"Peter!" I shout impulsively.

Peter whips his head around, searching the crowd for me. His glossy eyes are wide with surprise and his lips are parted. The other Pevensie children appear just as shocked. Then, he finds me. Amongst the crowd and chaos, his sea-glass eyes that I've been longing to see again since the moment he left have found me.

"Y/N?" He mouths breathlessly.

Peter begins to shove through the crowd, leaving his stunned siblings behind. I glide between bodies, excusing myself along the way. The seconds feel like hours as the distance dwindles but feels miles long. All I keep thinking is 'get to him! Get to him!' Before, I envisioned the riverbank. I longed for it. I couldn't see who was with me there in my visions until now, Peter. We were at peace, happy even. I believed the whole reason behind my want for those moments was to stay in Narnia. Yet, I've come to realize that it doesn't matter where I am, as long as it's with Peter.

In an instant, Peter's arms wrap around me and he frantically cradles my head, pressing it to his chest for dear life. He parts from me, cupping my face with astonishment.

He shouts, "what are you-"

Ignoring his words, I press my lips to his. Since the moment he disappeared all I wanted was to be with him again. At first, he's taken aback by my action, but after a second he comes to kiss me back. He cups my cheek and deepens the kiss. It’s salty, a mixture our of tears coming together. The world around us goes silent and nothing else matters. Despite everything, the war, the pain, the loss, this is where I'm meant to be. We part only to catch our breath.

"You came back?" He pants, lingering inches from my face. Now, tears of joy fall from his eyes. "But you're needed in Narnia! Aslan even said-"

"Destiny is a funny thing I've come to realize," I chuckle lightly with joy. "Everyone always speaks of it as though it must be an action or place. What if it's a person?"

The edge of his lips curl upward with pleasure, yet his brows scrunch together in confusion. "What happened to someday? You had the chance to be Queen! Grow old in Narnia! Caspian..."

"I was standing there, milliseconds after you left and I realized that none of it made any sense!" I explain breathlessly. "My world wouldn't be my world without you in it. Life wouldn't be worth living."

He gleams, overjoyed at my words. "So it's me?!"

"Oh silly boy, it's always been you," I giggle lightheartedly.

Peter releases a breathless laugh, emotional yet over the moon. He nods and swiftly brings his lips back to mine, holding my face in his hands longingly. No matter the world or time, I will follow him anywhere.

It's him. It's always been, Peter. Now, we have forever.

_____________________________________

Masterlist 

Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89​ @i-hav-no-life​ @damalseer​

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 3

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 3: Shadows of the Past

“Mhmmmmm,” Mei's eyes sparkled as she munched on the moon cake on the outdoor patio. “This is the most amazing thing I have ever eaten, I don’t even think the chefs can top this.”

“I seriously have to ask your parents what they do one day,” Macaque said as he ruffled her hair and picked up the empty plates with his hands and used his tail to set down the plate of mooncakes right beside an assortment of origami made by both Macaque and the kids. They were in the shapes of people, a vulture, monkey, jellyfish, rabbit, lion, and other varieties of animals and objects. They had a little too much fun making them all. After he put the dishes in the soap-filled sink he took off his apron and sat down next to MK, who was stuffing his face, “cause there is no way they can have normal jobs to have a chef.”

“I think they dig stuff up,” Mei shrugged her shoulders.

“Archaeologist,” he mused as he snatched up a sugar ring from MK plate, receiving an outraged ‘Hey’ from MK, “Didn’t think they were the down and dirty people, though...” The first time he met them was when Mei wanted to go visit MK at their house for his tenth birthday. Nice people, a bit cutthroat and sharp tongue, but nice people, especially when it comes to the safety of their daughter. “I have been wrong before.”

“It’s nice to hear you admit that,” a deep voice chuckled as both the kids jumped up in fright at the unexpected voice.

“Yeah yeah yeah, can it kitty cat,” Mac grumbled as he took a bite of the sugar ring, then wrinkled his nose at the sweet taste. “Can’t afford Raki to hear that.”

A figure softly leaped down from out of nowhere and by the lanterns' soft glow, they saw that the figure was dressed in an extravagant red robe that had rings of gold displayed all across, but the kids were more focused on the figure being a giant lion demon than anything else.

“I brought Eight Treasure Rice Pudding,” he tempted him as he held up the dessert in one hand and a floating lantern in the other.

“Well then you're more than welcome to join,” the monkey jokes, “Happy New Year kitty.”

“Happy New Year,” he said as he put the tray down and gave a smile as he noticed that Macaque was not alone, “and a Happy New Year to the both of you as well, I’m Ahmed.”

“MK!” The boy greeted him as his eyes went from the figure to the pudding.

“Mei the name and let me say that the pudding smells really good,” she drooled a bit.

“Well I hope it is, here,” he cut a slice for the two of them and sat down on the other side of Mac once the two began to dig in.

“Delicious!” They both said in glee.

“Bottomless pit I swear,” the monkey demon muttered.

“Your food is just that delicious,” Ahmed teased and gave a small nudge to his shoulder.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mac then took notice of his mane and gave a small eye twitch, “oi when’s the last time you took care of that mane of yours?”

The lion stiffens as he avoided eye contact, “oh not too long ago.”

“How long?”

“I don’t quite remember it could have been-,”

“How. Long.”

“....a few months ago.”

“I swear-what is with you guys and not taking care of your goddamn fur,” Mac grumbled as he forced the lion head to lay down on his lap as he began to fix his fur, “only can count on Bohai to take proper care.”

“But he doesn’t even have any fur,” the demon tried to refute, only to be met with a stink eye.

“And he can still take better care than the rest of you lot.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Mei pointed out the scene and MK nodded.

“Tons, usually it’s with Daiyu since she tends to get blood in her wings, the monkeys, or even me.” He can’t remember the first time he had his hair played with, but once it began it just never stopped. “He said that monkeys tend to the other fur when they care for the other.”

“Ohhh,” then Mei's eyes widened, and had to hold back a large smile as she realized that Macaque had been messing with her hair for the past month. He may be gruff, but he is just one big softy on the inside. Though she couldn’t help but take a longer look at the pair and noticed that the lion's eyes were closed in pure content...like a cat, she couldn’t hold back a giggle.

Ahmed's ears perked up and looked towards her, Mac's eyes didn’t even move from his grooming as he was used to both children's strange outburst, and he saw the young child just eerily smile at him. He decided that it would be better if he just ignored all of that.

Almost an hour later, Mei noticed that a soft glow of light was slowly flying above the forest. “Hey what’s that?”

They all looked in the direction of her pointed finger and it was MK who reacted first.

“Someone released their lantern! Can we do it now!” He eagerly said as he watched many more lights begin to emerge from the treetops.

Mac laughed as he pushed the purring cat off his lap, who didn’t take any offense as he stretched, and grabbed the lanterns, “yeah we can.”

“Yes!” He grabbed his lantern and waited by the edge of the patio with Mei.

“Don’t forget yours as well rocky,” he handed a lantern to the surprised Mei.

She blinked, a bit taken aback by the sudden action, but smiled brightly, “thanks fluffy!”

“Not fluffy,” he muttered as he slapped his tail at the back of the laughing lion's head. The two joined them with their lanterns and at once they all released it in the air as they all joined the small trove of floating lanterns in the air as the light almost illuminated the pink forest in its entirety.

They watched the scene until they could no longer see it anymore and when they thought it was all done they diverted their attention to the first crackle of fireworks and the kids cheered loudly as much more came.

“If I was a snake, where would I be?” MK hummed as he looked through the trees, hoping he didn't run into any creepy crawly spiders, as he tried to find his slithery friend.

The Qilin merely snorted as he laid down against the Yao grass, MK met him one day when he was visiting Whatever. He tried so many times to call him Shui Gui or Kappa, but the webbed spirit would just ignore him, and the horse-like creature trotted from across the lake and up to him, and after a moment of staring, just decided to take a nap next to him. Ever, MK managed to haggle that nickname out of him, once again busted out laughing and left a confused eleven year old.

“They have to be around here somewhere,” he grumbled as he searched further through the woods only to stumble upon an open clearing with an old house in the middle. “Huh, didn’t know anyone lived here.”

He walked closer to the home and he gave a cheerful yell “Hello! Anyone home?!”

No response.

“Doesn’t seem like they're here right now...let’s take a closer look,” he mischievously scurried over to the open window and peeked inside to see that it almost looked like he traveled back to the Tang Dynasty, see he has been paying attention to history, take that Dad.

“I wonder who could live here?” He pondered as he looked through the clean wooden and sun dried brick structure. “It actually looks clean, but everything is just so...well old?”

“What are you doing here kit?” He jumped up at the melodic voice.

“You scared me Ní!” He yelled at the Huli Jing, the brown nine-tailed fox.

“Well everyone needs a good scare every once in a while,” they said with a grin as they walked forward.

“Course I did,” he grumbled as he turned to face the shack, “so do you know whose house this is?”

Sadly, the fox smiled, “just one filled with fond memories kit, now come,” they nudged him away from the old home. “I heard that you were looking for our lost slithery friend of ours.”

“Yeah, they took my fidget spinner after learning that they could spin it on their tail,” he huffed as he once again.

“I presume you mean our Xian,” she hummed as they walked back to the trees.

“Who else?”

“Well there are our many reptilian friends amongst the trees, for all I know you could mean our biggest companion,” they teased.

MK looked at the fox as if they were crazy, “I don’t think that there even is a fidget spinner big enough for her.”

“You never know,” they swished their tails as they made it back to where the Qilin was and they took on a grin, “oh, it seems that we have found them.”

MK's eyes twitched as he saw that the snake was just chilling next to the horned horse beast as they played with the spinner, “Hey!”

All nine snakeheads lift at the voice and with a unison hiss, they promptly slither away with fidget spinner in hand, or rather tail in their case.

“Don’t you dare run! Get back here with that! I need it for class!”The boy yelled as he ran after the Xiangliu with much fervor.

“-but how?!” MK threw his hands in the air, “Monkey King has all these amazing powers, it doesn’t make sense that he can’t use them underwater.

“He is a stone monkey!” Mei pointed out to a section of the book as she leaned against MK’s bed, “stone sink, not float!”

“But he can still transform into all these different animals, can’t he just make himself a fish or something?”

“He is still stone!”

“But he can fly!”

“I don’t know magic,” she was half tempted to throw her book at her friend, she doesn’t have all the answers either.

“Then why can’t he use it underwater then?!” He was then hit by a thrown book as he fell off the bed, “you didn’t have to throw it at me.”

“Well maybe I did,” she crossed her arms and just laid down on top of him, “this is so confusing...maybe we can ask Mac, he knows a thing or two about magic.”

“He does,” the thirteen year old shot straight up, knocking Mei off, but then he slumped down when a thought occurred to him, “but he’s currently helping Ning right now.”

“Ning?” She asked as she sat back up.

“She’s a client,” he added.

“Oohh...I wonder what she’s in for?”

“When she sneezes or burps, she breathes fire,” MK easily answered. He already saw this happen when she first crawled in, she gave a wave to him, but quickly turned away when she sneezed. He is glad that the wood in the house has been enchanted to be fireproof, cause he doubted that there would have been a house standing after that fireball.

“She’s a dragon!” Mei got in his face, if there was one creature she loved it would hand down be the dragons.

“No, just a lizard demon.”

“Well technically dragons are reptiles,” she slumped down, her dreams of seeing the magnificent beast being thoroughly crushed. She then picked up the Journey to the West book and she gave an amused huff as she saw what page it landed on. “I still find it funny that your dad shares the same name as Monkey King rival.”

MK shared her grin, “it is pretty funny, like can you imagine him going toe to toe with the Monkey King.”

Mei’s grin widened, “the same monkey who let me put braids in his fur with ribbons!”

“The one who has a heart attack each time I get a bruise out in the forest,” he joined in.

“Who wears aprons when cooking food!”

“Let the baby monkey cling onto him!”

“He makes medicine for any demon or human that stops by!”

“He uses scented shampoo cause he likes the smell and it makes his fur soft,” the two couldn’t help but roll on the floor laughing.

“Do you want to hear something even more hilarious,” MK grinned.

“What?!” Mei asked after her laughter died down.

“There are some customers who even call him the Six-eared Macaque,” he snorted even louder.

Mei's face completely froze, “Huh?”

“Yeah,” he vigorously nodded, not taking any notice of his friend's change of mood, “I heard them call him with full respect and everything!”

“...what?”

“And what’s even better, he has six ears!”

“What?!” MK jumped up at Mei’s outburst.

“What was that for?!”

“You just told me that he has six ears?!” She began to shake him. “Do you not realize what you just implied?!”

“NoOoOo,” he shakily answered.

Mei then dropped him as she reached back towards the book and flipped through the pages until she found another, “oh my god, how could I have not realized it before!”

“What?” He asked as he managed to sit back up.

“Shadow manipulation, clones, stealthy,” she read out some of the powers, “they both share almost the same abilities! Hell, he even is a black-haired monkey!”

“Fur, but yeah and?” He still didn’t get what she was implying.

“And doesn’t he have super hearing?” She pressed further hoping that her dense friend would get it.

“Yes andddd?” He didn’t.

She pushed the book to his face, “Your Dad is the Six-Eared Macaque from the book!”

“What?! No he isn’t,” he snatched the book from her hands, “I mean it doesn’t make any sense, he may be grumpy, but he is not anything like the one from the story! He is downright mean and cruel!”

“Well, maybe he changed?!” She threw her hands in the air, “it won’t be that big of a stretch, I mean 500 years is a long time.”

“But I have never seen him fight before, not even when Daiyu would plead to him for a spar, he would just roll his eyes.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t fight when you're around,” she threw in her answer.

“But, but, but it just can’t,” MK threw the book away from him, “it just can’t.”

“MK,” Mei worriedly put a hand on his shoulder, “are you okay?”

“Yes-no-I don’t know,” he leaned on the ground with a groan. “He just can’t be the same one from the book okay.”

“Well, why not?”

“He can’t, he can’t because if he is then he has purposefully kept this a secret from me,” he whispered out.

“Then that’s more reason to ask him,” Mei insisted.

“No!” He shot up and grabbed her shoulders, “we can’t!”

“Well why not!”

“It might not even be him!”

“But what if it is?!” She countered back.

“But what if it's not,” he firmly stood his ground.

“And if it is?”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“It is!”

“It’s not!”

“MK, we have to ask him.”

“Ask me what?” They both scooted back in shock when the said monkey demon walked into the room. “I’m hoping by those reactions that you were just startled and not guilty of doing something you weren’t supposed to.” He decided to check out their yells after he had finished with his patient.

The two shot a look at one another.

“Right?”

“Yeah, nothing bad, nothing and at all,” MK nervously said as he scratched the back of his neck and avoided his golden eyes.

“You know that right there isn’t helping your case,” Mac deadpanned.

“It's just that we have a question,” Mei butted in as she grabbed the tossed book.

“Mei no,” MK tried to stop her, but she was determined to get her answers.

“Are you the same Six-Eared Macaque from the book?!” The pigtailed girl showed him the Journey to the West book up to him.

Macaque stilled at the question for a moment before easing down as he took a look at the book, “Huh, haven’t read this book in a while,” he said noncommittally.

“Well? Are you?!” Mei pushed him for the answer, she was not leaving until she got one.

Even MK was silently watching this whole interaction but didn’t move an inch, because deep down, even he wanted to know.

The monkey demon let out a sigh as he nodded, “yeah, I am.”

It was silent as the two kids took in that information.

MK's mind was racing, he didn’t know what to even think. The cruel demon in the story, the one who constantly attacked innocent people, killed so many, clashed fiercely against the Monkey King, is the same one who found him all those years ago and took care of him. It just doesn’t make any sense!

“Want to talk here or in the living room?” Macaque’s voice pierced through the silence.

It took a moment before MK finally responded, “living room.”

“Alright, I’ll go make some tea. This won’t be an easy talk,” he said as he began to reach out to ruffle his hair only to stop at his child's nervous stare. He puts his hands down and promptly walks out of the room and turns away to the kitchen, while he ignores the tight squeeze in his chest.

“So,” Mac sat down on the opposing chair from the couch that had the two kids on it as the pot of tea and a bowl of peeled mangos sat in the middle of the table, “where do you want me to start?”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” MK blurred out first as he clenched his fist. “Or was this gonna be kept in the dark.”

“When you turned 18, I was gonna sit down with you and talk about this,” he firmly told his son. “I had no intention in hiding this from you forever.”

MK didn’t reply as he lowered his head.

“The beginning is usually a good place,” Mei tried to joke, but only the demon gave a small smirk as MK stayed silent.

“That’s as good a place as any, well before that book ever took place, before even the thought of the Journey took place, me and Sun Wukong were friends.”

“You were friends?!” This time MK didn’t stay silent as both kids shouted.

“Surprising right,” he mirthlessly chuckled.

“It never said anything like that in the books!” Mei exclaimed as she held up her book.

“Well first that’s a kid-friendly book of the story,” he pointed out the childish cartoon design on the front cover. “Don’t think they want kids reading books about graphic violence, especially with the disembowelment and all types of gore,” he muttered the last part quietly to himself. “And second, not everything you read or hear is correct.”

“Huh?”

“History is told by the victors and survivors, not by those who lie dead,” he softly said.

“Oh,” Mei shuffled at the uncomfortable thought.

“So how did you two meet?” MK prompted.

“When we first met, he looted some food from a shrine and got caught like an idiot, which pissed off the mountain god.”

“He did?!”

“Yeah, this was way before he met Subodhi, the one who taught Wukong about how to take on immortality.” He reminisces back to the scene where he met his first friend.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Sun Wukong leaped from rock to rock as he tried to get as much distance as he could from him and the deity. He spotted a cluster of rocks that looked like it had some amount of cover as he leaped behind it and waited. “All I wanted was some damn food! How was I supposed to know that it was supposed to go to a God?! It makes no damn sense to just leave food lying out!” He whispered angrily.

“So you're the one who pissed him off,” Wukong managed to suppress a yelp as he noticed that he wasn’t alone in his hiding spot. It was a bit surprising to see that it was a Monkey demon like him, only with black fur and a red scarf hiding the bottom of his face. “One would think that you shouldn’t piss off a deity, but that is just my opinion,” he snarked.

“Well one shouldn’t leave food lying out like an idiot,” he shot back.

“So you decided to steal from a mountain God? Yeah, real smart,” Macaque drawled out. “Usually I steal from fields, but you took the idiot crown today.”

“How was I supposed to know that it was for someone!” He retorted.

“Just by looking at it dumbass, have you never seen a shrine before?”

“What’s a shrine?” He questioned.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he deadpanned. “How can you not know? Were you living under some kind of rock before?”

“No, I was born from one!” He cheekily grinned.

“...I don’t know if you're insane or if that’s just the weirdest thing I heard,” he then froze as he dragged Wukong closer to the rocks.

“Wha-,” he was about to break free but was hushed by his fellow hider.

“Shhh,” he silently pointed to the right of them and after a moment noticed that a shadow was getting larger. Wukong smartly decided, for the first time, to keep his mouth shut.

It was only after the shadow left did the two relax.

“So I guess we’re stuck here for awhile,” the brown-furred monkey sprawled against the rocks and made himself comfortable, “I’m Sun Wukong, but people call me the Monkey King.”

The other monkey let out a burst of laughter at his ridiculous name, “Ha! Yeah, no I’m not calling you that. I’m Liu Er Mihou.”

“Pfft, boring,” he grumbled back as he then got curious, “so why are you hiding behind this rock anyways? You certainly were here long before I was.”

“Well unlike you, I was taking a nice nap before this happened,” he smirked as he leaned back.

“Just napping you say,” his eyes happen to spot a bag filled with different goods and food.

“Well napping after I nicked off some things from the fields and market and unlike you, I didn’t get caught.”

“Would have been helpful, but-,” they were cut off when a huge explosion erupted from underneath them.

“You thought you could run from me you little ape!” The mountain God’s echoey voice boomed out. “I am one with all upon this mountain! Every pebble is my ears! Every rock is my voice! You can-,” he was cut off by a voice angrily yelling at him.

“I’m not an ape!” Wukong screeched as the two of them started to run.

“That’s what you're concerned about?!” Liu Er confusedly asked though it was laced with a twinge of amusement and fear.

“I have a tail!” He emphasized the tail carrying the bag of food. “Obviously not an ape!”

“You can’t run forever little ape,” the voice snarled out with every crushed rock booming behind them.

“You got one more time to call me an ape!” He yelled out as his eye twitched.

“And what are you gonna do about it little. Ape.” The voice mockingly said with a toothy grin.

“That’s it!” The angered monkey stopped in his tracks as he flung the bag over to Macaque, “hold this!” And with that, his eyes started to glow bright yellow as he flung himself at the God.

“What are you doi-,” he cut himself off as he noticed that the impulsive monkey that he was hiding with had suddenly begun to shoot lasers from his eyes. “Huh, maybe there was something about him being born from the stone that was true.”

“GHA stop that!” The Mountain God wheezed out as he was hit by another bludgeoning punch from the mortal monkey.

“Not so tough now are you!” He mocked as he sent a flying kick towards the immortal being, only for him to slink down into the mountain. “Oh now who's the coward! Come out and fight me!”

“This dumbass,” Macaque grumbled as he was half-tempted to just take the bag and run, but even he doubted that he would hold up against the enraged monkey like this. His ears twitched as he heard the lingering God about to move so he yelled to Sun, “you might want to duck, he’s about to strike from the left.”

Sun Wukong heard him and managed to leap high enough to avoid the Mountain God claws, “got you now fucker!” And with a couple of spins, he struck down upon the God and landed a killing blow upon his head. “That’s what you get.”

“Remind me never to piss you off,” Macaque said as he casually walked up next to him, tossed his stolen bag of food, and examined the dead God.

“Thanks!” He cheerfully reverted from his enraged form once he got his food and happily began to chew on an apple as he sat down against the fallen God. “So how did you know that the God was there?” He curiously asked as he took another bite.

Liu Er blinked at the odd scene and let loose a snort as he sat down a little ways away from him. “Well seeing that you managed to kill a God with your bare hands, mine is definitely not weirder than yours,” he said as he pulled down his scarf to reveal his two extra pairs of ears.

“Cool!” Wukong's eyes glisten as he immediately began to touch his ears.

Macaque only flinched for a moment at the unexpected touch, but became a little more at ease when he didn’t feel any sharp pulling or twisting the longer he touched them, but he batted his hand away, “Heard of personal space?”

It was after the two had eaten that Mac decided to speak again, “alright let’s make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Wukong hesitantly asked.

“You are shit when it comes down to stealing,” he bluntly told him.

“Rude, fair, but rude.”

“But I can.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“How about we team up for a bit, with your strength and my stealth, I think the two of us make out with a lot more goods than this,” he tossed up their near empty bags.

“Hmmm, I don’t know. How do I know that you can actually steal,” Wukong pointed out, but the six eared monkey smirked.

“Well you haven’t noticed this,” he tossed up the half eaten apple in his other hand.

“Wha-,” his eyes widened as he now noticed that the apple in hand had disappeared in a poof of violet energy. “How did you do that?”

“Misdirection,” he tossed his apple back to him.

Wukong blinked as he caught the apple then a large grin took up his face as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, “I think that this is the start of a beautiful relationship.”

“And the start of so many headaches,” Mac couldn’t help but grumble out.

“Well you can only blame yourself.”

“I already am.”

“So you two had stuck together from that moment,” MK said as he stayed in his seat with his knees covering his face.

“For all of nine years, until he left to learn under Subodhi, then I was free roaming once more. Though I did learn a few things from Wukong as it made my travels a bit easier,” Mac said as he took a sip from his lukewarm tea.

“And he probably learned a few things from you...like how to steal so many things from the celestial realm,” Mei's eyes widened as the realization hit her. “Now that’s how he managed to do that! You taught him how to steal!”

The simian paused as that hadn’t occurred to him in the slightest, “...to be fair I didn’t teach him shit, he simply watched what I was doing and used it in practice. All the havoc he managed to cause in the celestial realm and below was his reckless ideas, I had nothing to do with that...for the most part.”

“But the Monkey King is an immortal being,” MK interjected, “and you're not...unless.”

“Yeahhh, I’m immortal too,” he sipped his tea at their dumbfounded stares.

“How?!”

“Once again, blame Sun Wukong for that.”

“I’m sorry, run that by me again,” Mac let the book hang freely from his hands as he listened to Wukong.

“You're immortal! You can thank me with words of praise and/or delicious food,” he cheekily grinned at him as he hung upside down from the tree branch above.

The monkey demon had to blink for a moment and take a deep breath before closing his book and putting full attention to his friend, “I’m almost scared to ask how the fuck you managed to pull that off, but also dying to know.”

“Well,” the simian jumped down to the same branch as Macaque, “I was kidnapped by Yama lackeys, which was uncool you know, I earned my immortality fair and square,” he huffed out.

“You got kidnapped by the emissaries of the God of Death...okay that’s kinda funny,” he cracked a grin.

“Well it wasn’t for me,” he crossed his arms, “so I kicked all of their asses and spoke with some old folks, who call themselves the ten kings which is a stupid title itself, to get things straight you know and they tried to do? They tried to pull a fast one on me and say that they meant to take another Sun Wukong, which I call bullshit on. I mean who else is a stone monkey that’s name is Sun Wukong?”

“No one,” Mac snorted as his partner threw his hands in the air.

“Exactly! So they take me to the place where they keep track of the ones dying and we all look around to find where those names happen to be and lo and behold, I found my name and you want to know what I did?”

“You erased your name,” he was getting more and more amused by this, he can only imagine the chaos that must have happened due to Wukong antics.

“I erased my name! And I also decided that I wasn’t gonna be alone in this so I decided to erase some of the other monkeys back at Flower Fruit Mountain and I found your name and I erased that too,” he proudly grinned. “You can’t believe the sheer amount of panic that was on all of their faces when they realized what I did.”

“I really can’t,” he chuckled as he then scooted over and wrapped his arm around his neck in affection, “thanks for immortality I guess, never thought I would ever get anything close to that.”

“Well a little more praise than that would be nice,” he teased as he felt the back of his head get slapped.

“Oh, I’m sorry your royal highness, did that harm your oh so precious fur of yours?” Mac took on a haughty tone, “let me be the first to go to my knees and bow for your kind gesture that you have bestowed upon me.”

“Shut up,” Wukong snorted as he nudged his friend's shoulder.

“You asked for it,” the black furred monkey tone returned to normal as he grabbed his book and began to read it once more. Though he was interrupted by Sun sprawling over his lap all of a sudden, “can I help you?”

“Read to me!” He demanded.

“Don’t you get bored with stuff like this? Actually, I’m surprised you haven’t already left to cause some sort of chaos at this point Sunny?”

“Meh, don’t feel like moving now, so read to me!”

Mac knew that when he got like this there was little to change his mind, so with a mockingly reluctant sigh he said, “As his highness wishes,” and began to continue where he left off. It was during that, when Macaque was lost in the book and Wukong was lost in the soft words, did two tails slowly curl up and intertwine with one another.

“You know, it’s a bit surreal to hear that the Gods are real,” Mei hummed out. “I mean reading about it is one thing, but knowing someone who actually met with a God is another.”

“If you think that’s surreal then that’s nothing compared to actually meeting one,” Mac pointed to her.

“Trueeee.”

“So what happened next?” MK spoke up as he managed to get out of his curled up position halfway through the story and was instead leaning in close.

“Well you know what happens next, he gets a position in the heavens, his infamous havoc in heaven, left the heavens, fought some gods, got tricked by Buddha and he had the mountain pin him down for 500 years or so,” he casually said.

“Only you would manage to screw it up big time huh peaches,” Liu Er said as he jumped off the top of the mountain and back down next to his friend. “I mean, what were you thinking?”

“Heyyy mango,” Wukong nervously chuckled, “I might have pissed off all the gods in the heavens, you know how it goes.”

“Yeah I heard, but how did they do this,” he gestured to the entire mountain.

“Well, that was maybe...Buddha,” he softly said the last part, but Macaque didn’t have six ears for nothing.

“You managed to piss off Buddha themself,” he said incredulously. “How in the fuck?!”

“I didn’t piss him off!” He said in defense, “I just maybe lost a bet with him.”

“You lost a bet with Buddha.”

“Look, it's complicated!” He huffed as he tried to wiggle under the mountain, “look there’s a seal on the top of this mountain, if you can just rip it off I can easily-,”

“Already tried that,” he showed him his blackened fingers, “didn’t quite work for me.”

“Well shit there goes that idea,” he muttered as a horrible thought occurred to him, “Flower Fruit mountain! The tribe-you have to-,” he was cut off once again.

“Already have a few clones stationed there since you got that position in heaven dumbass,” he whacked his head, “you don’t have to worry about them, now let’s think of a way to free you.”

Wukong let out a breath of relief as he lay his head against the ground. “It ain’t gonna be easy you know.”

Macaque grinned cheekily at him as he sat down next to him and his dark purple daxiushan flared out underneath him, “who said it ever was,” he joked as he began to groom his friend's fur.

“Might have to go against the Gods,” he said as he relaxed to the grooming.

“You can’t have all the fun,” he retorted back.

The Monkey King merely hummed as the grooming went, they can discuss more later, but he sorely needed this.

“But you didn’t free him,” Mei quietly pointed out.

“No, I didn’t,” he shook his head as his tail silently swooshed behind him.

“But you did something,” MK noticed that something was amiss by his relaxed position as he ate a peeled mango.

“Welll, let’s just say that there was a reason why Guanyin happened to find Wukong.”

“You tricked Guanyin,” Mei deadpanned.

“I wouldn’t say trick, more like a gust of wind in the right direction,” he knew that he teetered along the line when he subtly diverted the God's attention to his friend. He heard through some of his contacts that they were looking for immortals for the Journey, so he managed to arrange some coincidental happenings that maybe got the Goddess of mercy to float in Wukong’s direction.

“You tricked Guanyin,” Mei still bluntly told him.

“Anyways,” Macaque ignored Mei as he picked up his empty cup, “then you all know the rest, Wukong infamous Journey to the West and all that.”

“But that doesn’t explain how you went from friends to enemies in the book,” MK pressed and watched as his father's shoulder slightly slumped.

“I-,” he looked down to his empty cup and sighed, “I was an idiot, I-I thought he was being tortu-something cruel was being done to him. When Tripitaka used that sutra, I thought they had managed to enslave my friend and harm him,” he gripped his cup before setting it down, he refused to dive further in that memory. “Clearly I was wrong and you know how that went down.”

The two once again became silent as they took in the information.

“Okay, okay,” Mei nodded as she crossed her legs, “but here’s what’s confusing me. In the Journey to the West, it told you were ruthless, but I know that in some other books it is said that you are a minor deity of trickery and medicine and that you would help wandering travelers by giving them medicine and give them protection by tricking the bandits and Gods. So what is that about?”

“Okay that minor deity thing is just not true,” Mac pinched his nose, “I still don’t know who even put that down in the first place.”

“How did you change?” MK added as well.

“Well,” he let out a soft smile, “I met someone.”

“Ooooo,” the two couldn’t help themselves.

“No,” he firmly told them, “No. No-fuck no. Hell no. Hell to the no. By all the Gods-no just no,” he shuddered. “It’s not anything like that at all.”

“Who was it?” MK asked.

“It was a weird man named Ping who found me on the side of the road somehow and decided to just drag my body to his house,” he snorted at their confused faces. “Yeah, that was me when I first awoke.”

Macaque groggily came to as he heard the faint sound of clinking metals coming a little ways away from him, but as he got up a sharp pain emerged from his entire body as he fell back to the bed.

“Shit, what the hell knocked me ou-...oh,” his memories came back to him in a rush as he remembered just who exactly did this to him. “Fuck, but why? Why, why why!” He gripped his fur and then his right eye as he noticed that there was a distinct lack of sight from that one, “it doesn’t make sense! Why the fuck would he, just why?!”

“So you're finally awake,” he had to freeze as for the first time in a long while, he was snuck up on, “you were knocked out for quite some time.” The monkey turned to see a graying middle aged man wipe his hands on the cloth.

“Who are you,” he went on the immediate defense. He doesn’t sense any celestial or demonic aura coming from him, but he knows it better wary than dead.

“People call me Ping,” he gave a small bow to him, “it’s nice to see you awake.”

“...Are you blind by any chance,” Macaque couldn’t help but blurt out. “Cause there's no way in hell would someone be happy on seeing a demon alive unless they were a goddamn monk…” he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes.

“Ohoho, believe me, I am no Monk,” the man chuckled as he began to pick up some materials from the side, “I have very little patience for just sitting around and meditating all day.”

“Can’t front ya there,” he grumbled as he tried to get back up only for him to wheeze in pain and cough viciously.

“Here, this will help your throat,” Ping handed him a steaming cup of tea that was next to a brown rabbit, which was a bit strange as he didn’t even notice it before.

The monkey hesitantly accepts it, he was unsure if the tea had poison in it, but decided that the human literally could have left him on the side of the road to die and spare him the troubles of killing him himself, so he took a sip of the tea and his nose scrunched up, “why is it sweet?”

“Not to your liking,” he chuckled as he sipped on his own cup.

“You know people-humans are usually terrified when encountering a demon,” he deadpanned as he realized that not only was he half clothed, but his six ears were out in the open. “Just saying.”

“And usually, most demons would have tried to take a bite out of me,” he retorted

“And that is usually enough to not even get close to one of us, let alone bring one to your home,” he emphasized.

“Well we're all a little bit crazy in this world,” Ping chortled as he ambled off to the other room. “You can leave when you want to!”

Macaque could only watch dumbfounded at what just took place as he loosely cradled the teacup in his hand. Though he could do without the rabbit gaze boring into him.

“So what happened next,” MK asked.

“I left,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“You just left?!” Mei shouted as she squished the fruit in her hand.

“Yep.”

“Why?!”

“I had no reason to stay with a man who just up and saved me for no reason, especially one who was so confident in his capabilities that I wasn’t going to attack him,” he pointed out.

“So where did you go?” MK asked next.

“A little bit of everywhere,” he lied a little, he may be spilling his secrets, but even he has a hard stop on some of his more personal ones. He was not about to tell them that he essentially stalked Wukong and his friends for a good portion of the Journey. “But, for some damn reason, I went back to Ping.”

“You went back?” Mei said as MK asked, “Why?”

“Curiosity? Boredom? I honestly still don’t know,” he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “But I just kept going back every few months and the strangest thing is, he would just give a slight wave and give me some tea. Each and every time, until eventually I stayed a bit longer.”

Macaque watched in interest as Ping began to crush some herbs together and mix them. He knows some of those plants and they tasted downright horrible. “What’s the point of making that? It doesn’t taste any good with food, old man.”

Ping simply chuckled as his rabbit laid silently to the side, “I'm not that old, unlike you. It helps with backaches, I know many of the elderly will need it in the coming winter, so it’s always good to prepare ahead.”

“Oohhh, that’s medicine,” Mac hummed. He hasn't seen much of it since he was able to heal fairly fast and also that usually medicine is one of the hardest items to steal due to it usually being hidden or secured.

“Would you like a closer look?” The graying man asked as he stepped a little to the side.

“Sure, why not,” he shrugged his shoulders as he watched with rapt attention to how the medicine was being made.

“He must have a lot of patience to be able to teach you,” Mei grinned.

The monkey huffed in amusement, “I honestly thought the same thing.”

“But how was he different?” MK hesitantly asked as all he heard was of Ping doing completely normal things. “How did he get you to...well change?”

“Does it matter that he was supposed to be some amazing being with special abilities,” he gave a small smirk.

“Well no,” he deflated a bit.

“Cause let me tell you that Ping was one of the farthest things to have anything godly about him. The only thing special about him was his strange ability to practically befriend anyone that passed him and that was it. He never went on any magical adventure, wasn’t appointed a great duty by a God, hell the man has never taken a single martial art or learned under any great sage before,” he couldn’t hold back laugh at their confused looks. “He never tried to force me to change into what he believed to be good.”

“Then why did you keep going back?” Mei jumped off the couch and leaned over the table. “If he didn’t have anything mystical about him, why did you keep going back?”

“Have you ever heard the age-old question on if you can teach a monster how to love?” He suddenly asks, throwing them all off guard.

“No?”

“Cause the answer is no, but rather you have to show them,” he smiled fondly.

“...what does that have to do with this?” MK whispered out.

“He may not have any special abilities, but there was something about him, something- I can’t say good because it’s not strictly subjective in that, but just something comforting about him. About the way he wouldn’t bat an eye at my appearance, the way he would simply give me a cup of tea, the way he would let me stay when I had my bad days, just the way he was just was comforting,” he breathed in as he unhooked his fingers that he unconsciously grabbed together. “He was just Ping and that was enough for a monster to change.”

“You're not-/Don’t believe-,” he cut off both kids.

“I know I did...horrible things in the past, things can’t be redeemable no matter how many times I may help those, I couldn’t forgive myself, but he showed me that I could.

“How?”

“I planted a seed.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah, I was just as confused as you guys were too,” he smiled as he leaned back. “He straight up told me to plant a seed each time my anger or frustration overwhelmed me.” He threw his hands in the air, “I didn’t know what he meant, by the Gods know how many of those things I planted even long after he passed.”

“So he did pass away,” Mei said underneath her breath.

“Humans tend to do that, especially with one as old as him,” he said with a small smile.

“You still kept planting,” MK huddled together as he wrapped his arms around his knees.

“...Yeah,” he wrapped his tail around his waist in comfort, “I didn’t know what else to do and I know I raged and cried, but I couldn’t just go down to Yama and demand his soul back or up to the heavens and just steal a peach. Not even the drunk old man could change fate,” he whispered that last part quietly. “I’m not that strong, so I did the only thing I could and just planted the seeds and plant and plant until one day I was interrupted.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but did you happen to grow these yourself?” The woman asked as she carried her child upon her back.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t feel in the mood to even attempt to snark back against a human as he tended to some of the flowers.

“Well let me tell you that they're simply beautiful,” she smiled at him.

“Huh?” Mac froze at the sudden compliment.

“Yeah!” He looked down to see a young girl with a wide smile, “they are super pretty.”

“Very pretty,” another child shyly piped up as he peeled from behind his mother's skirt.

The monkey demon could faintly remember their goodbyes as they proceeded to walk away from him. “What beauty is there in a bunch of seeds?” He turned to look at his plants and for the first time, he realized that they haven’t been seeds in a very long time as they sprouted into a giant, pink, flourishing Plum Blossom trees-no not trees a blossoming forest.

“Oh.” He then decided to slowly walk through it all as he plunked a plum from one of the branches. “Damn, I must have been really out of it for so many years that I didn’t even realize that it...that it grew…during all these years it grew and grew into something beautiful.” He paused as he now realized what Ping was trying to show him for all these years, that even when he got angry and made so many mistakes, they can turn into something beautiful. He let out a full body laugh as he just screeched and screeched.

“Only you, you fucking coot! Only you would think of such a weird ass idea and actually be of help, I swear if you weren’t already dead I would be yelling at you for this!” He screeches as tears or amusement and anguish filled his eyes, “you made me plant a forest of mistakes and did a fuck you and made it something worthwhile, something beautiful!”

He eventually laid down with plum in hand, ears out as he listened to the chirps of the bird and rustles of the leaves and his heart didn’t feel as empty as before. “Couldn’t have told me straight out his thoughts,” he huffed with a watery smile as he took a bite out of the plum.

“You made this forest-the Plum Blossom forest?!” MK asks shockingly despite listening to the story.

“A good portion of it, yes, the rest done simply by Hòutû herself.”

“So what happened next?” Mei said as she kneeled and put her elbows on the table.

“Life happened and time slowly crawled forward and I slowly began to change and probably still will,” he shrugged his shoulders.

MK fidgeted in his seat before finally speaking up again, “so...what happens now.”

“That’s for you two to decide,” he stood up and stretched, “You're the only ones who can decide for yourself.” He picked up the empty plates and cup, “Take as much time as you need kiddos,” he began to walk away with a heavy heart.

He knew that he couldn’t force their minds into completely accepting him, but he prays, one of the very few times he does, that he didn’t fuck two of the few good things he had. He can accept that they may not forgive him, but he damn hopes that there is still a sliver of affection-he stiffen as he felt two pairs of arms hug tightly around his waist. “Wha-?”

“You can’t get rid of us that easily Goldilocks,” Mei smiled as she cuddled her face in his soft fur, “No amount of scares can force us away from you.”

“Mei-,”

“At first I was angry,” he heard his son's voice even when it was muffled against his fur. “You kept secrets and I didn’t like that, but you told me and I was so confused, still am, but you aren’t the same mean monkey in the past, I don’t think you would have saved me if you were the same as your past self and I am happy about that. I am happy that I know you now, because I may have not liked you and if I didn’t like you then I would have never stayed with you and I really don’t like that,” MK looked up at him with tears in his eyes as he hugged him tighter. “I really don't like the idea of never being here, being with you Dad, so thank you for being you, thank you and I love you so much.”

Liu Er barely had the forethought to place the dishes down before wrapping his arms around them both with a tight grip. “Well I guess you're stuck with me.”

“Like old gum stuck in your fur,” MK squeezed out through the fur.

“I swear you spend way too much time with Minsheng…love you too Starlight,” he huffed as he ruffled his child's hair.

“And besides,” Mei started, “you may be a grump but you're our grumpy monkey demon now. And if anyone tries to say otherwise then I would need to have a few words with them,” she ended with a wide creepy smile on her face as her eyes promised vengeance.

“I’ll direct them towards you little newt,” he chuckled as he also messed with her hair as well and gave them both a gentle kiss on the forehead.

“Fuzz butt,” she shot back then got a gleam in her eyes, “a fuzz butt who can teach us how to fight.”

“No.”

“I’ll wear you down eventually,” she grinned, “sooo can we see what you really look like?” MK’s head shot up at that and shared the same gleam as well.

“Nosy, all of you,” he said as he gently pried them off of him, and in barely a flicker, he had transformed and he looked more...dangerous. His nails and teeth have become sharper, a few scars were more visible upon his hands and feet, the scar on his right eye was very prominent as it displayed a dull yellow pupil, even his ears seemed to add to his threatening appearance as the middle violet ear on the right was missing a portion of the upper cartilage.

“You look badass/So Cool!” Though he didn’t have to worry about scaring those two off as their eyes sparkled at his appearance and rushed to touch his fur as MK happily exclaimed as he put his face on his fluffy chest, “why does your fur feel even softer than before?!”

Macaque snorted loudly as he sat down on the floor and let them have a better reach, “shouldn’t even be surprised that was what you took away from this.”

“Seriously, now it looks like you actually know how to fight,” Mei ‘ooed’ as she felt some of his scars underneath his fur. “How’d this one happen,” she felt a faint scar right above the left shoulder.

“Well let me tell you that it all began by a river and I just found out that a certain monkey can’t fight underwater,” the two teenagers leaned in close as he began to tell the tale of the blood demon beast that rested underneath the river.

[springday-aus]

SVT’s Wonwoo: Daytime Scares

—

Fic Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​

Moodboard Link: created by Admin Grandpa

Main Characters: Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Jeon Wonwoo

Other Characters: OCs [Ae Jae, Mi Jeong, Yoojin, and Minjae], Chaeyoung (BlackPink), Yongsun (Mamamoo), Seventeen [Seungkwan and Mingyu] 

Genre: fluff, romance, comedy, college!Wonwoo

Type: one-shot writing piece

Word Count: approx. 11.6k

Plot Summary: Wonwoo is nothing more than an attractive stranger in your ethics class. You have no relation with him whatsoever, but that changes when you suddenly have a nightmare that he tries to kill you. That’s a whole level of psychoanalyzing you would rather not dive into. But now things get weirder when he’s starting to talk to you. 

→ Based on the AU prompt: “I had a dream that you tried to kill me and now I’m scared of you” 

Sleepovers typically mean movies, gossip, and face masks. It’s a fun time to be with your friends and it’s good for lowering stress after midterms. The only level of stress here is would be finding a movie to watch—which probably should have been selected beforehand. But, in your defense, it was hard enough to schedule this hang-out; who has the time to actually schedule the activities? 

So, right now, you lay comfortably on the carpeted floor of Ae Jae’s studio apartment with Mi Jeong. You two are on your phones, trying to find a movie to watch. Meanwhile, Yoojin scrolls through her laptop—connected to the projector—browsing through her Netflix account. 

“What about Hustlers?” Minjae asks. 

“I could really use some J.Lo right now,” you say with wiggling eyebrows. 

“Ugh, we can all use a little more J.Lo,” Mi Jeong says. 

“That movie is too recent,” Yoojin says. “We can’t find that on a streaming site.” 

“Hello?” Ae Jae says. “Have you heard of Dailymotion?” 

“Do you want me to just pull up one of those illegal websites?” Minjae asks. 

Yoojin turns around to face her. “Ma’am, that’s called pirating.” 

“Exactly.” 

Mi Jeong laughs at them. Yoojin gives her a pointed look, but you all know it’s no bad intentions. 

You set your phone down and sit up from your previous position. “Might as well. We can probably browse through the other movies and figure out some other options to choose from.” 

“What I’m hearing is,” Ae Jae says, “is that we don’t have to pay to watch these new movies.” 

Yoojin rolls her eyes and moves out of the way of her laptop. “I guess we have nothing to lose.” 

“No fear of the viruses?” you ask. 

“Potato, potato,” Minjae says. 

Yoojin shrugs. “Fire away, Minjae.” 

You watch her practically jump over from her previous spot to the TV to type in one of her illegal sites, which you may or may not have frequently used—thanks to her. You can only laugh at her antics. 

It’s nice to be with your friends again. It’s been a while since you had properly sent time with them. With the assignments and overlapping work schedules, you’ve all kind of distanced yourselves from one another and, with midterms coming up, things were just piling higher. After midterms week finished, when things calmed down, you and your friends aligned your schedules to catch up with one another. 

But who knew it would take nearly two hours to figure out what to watch? Granted, one of the flaws within your friend group is the fact that most of your friends (you included) are incredibly indecisive. 

As Minjae moves from one page to the next, everyone else silently scans the movies presented in front of them. 

“The live-action Lion King is out,” Mi Jeong says. “That could be an option.” 

“Hm,” you say. “I’m pretty sure it’s just the same as the original one.” 

“It is,” Minjae says. “But we can just put it on a list of things we could watch. We can still look.” 

“Let’s just do that,” Yoojin says. 

About ten movie pages (and a list of six possible movies to watch) in, Minjae gets into the horror movie section. You tense up from the movie covers—each one making your stomach twist in apprehension. The one thing each one of your friends know is that you get easily scared, which means you dodge horror movies like the plague. 

“Oh, what about It: Chapter 2?” Ae Jae asks. 

You start to whine, realizing where this is going. “Nooo.” 

You’re ignored. 

“I still haven’t watched the first one,” Minjae says.

“What?” “That was literally everywhere.” “How did you manage to miss one of the biggest horror movies?” 

Minjae shrugs off the questions. “I just never got to it.” 

“It’s a good movie,” Mi Jeong says. “Right, (Y/N)?” 

You scowl at her. “No, it’s not.” 

Yoojin snorts. “You probably didn’t even watch it.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Since (Y/N) and I haven’t watched it,” Minjae says. “Should we just watch it?” 

“NOOO—” 

Everyone ignores you. 

“Since it’s kind of old,” Ae Jae says. “They’ll probably have it in higher quality.” 

“NOOOO—” 

“You’re probably right,” Yoojin says. “Oh, 1080hd. That’s fancy.” 

“GUYS. IS ANYONE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME?” 

“I found it!”  

You let out a long sigh, kissing a month’s worth of sleep away. You mumble under your breath. “Guess no one cares about my well being and health.” 

You move yourself to properly lay between Mi Jeong and Minjae, throwing another pillow down. All three of you are on the carpeted floor with too many pillows to count. Ae Jae moved herself and now, she lies on her bed with Yoojin. A blanket is placed on your head and shoulders, ready for cover whenever Pennywise’s face appears on the screen. 

You’ve never wished for poorer eyesight until now. You will never understand the trolls that found this clown attractive. A shudder runs down your spine, seeing his face flash in the lightning from the sewer. You quickly pull the blanket over your head to erase the image. 

You feel a couple of tugs. 

Mi Jeong’s pulling on it. “Jesus Christ, it’s just a clown!” 

“John Wayne Gacy was just a clown too and he turned out as a murderer. This one just happens to be supernatural!” 

Minjae starts to tug down the blanket as well. “Be apart of the friend group!” 

“NO!” 

A pillow is flung towards you, in courtesy of Yoojin, who yells down at all of you. “Be quiet!” 

“I want new friends.” 

It’s 3am—you’ve all moved on from It and onto some generic cartoon movie. You were the main advocate for another movie, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrific images Pennywise provided. Mi Jeong and Minjae are both asleep on each side of you—both with pore strips still attached on their noses. Yoojin snores lightly from Ae Jae’s bed, whereas Ae Jae is up with her elbow propping up her head. 

“Hey,” she says. 

“What?” 

“You up?” She gives you a teasing smile. 

You roll your eyes at her. “This is your fault. Of course, I’m up.” 

“What? You really can’t sleep because of the movie?” 

You stare at her, but refuse to actually move. “Believe it or not, terrifying images of a killer clown that’s telling me I’ll float isn’t a good sleeping mechanism.” 

She opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again, once the words come to her. “They help Mi Jeong sleep.” 

“She’s got a different way of thinking.” 

“Hmm, you’re right,” Ae Jae says. “Do you just want a melatonin instead?” 

You’ve got nothing to lose. “Sure.” 

She manages to get up, without waking up Yoojin, and walks over to the bathroom. She opens the cabinet, looks through it, and pulls out her melatonin gummies. She pops the lid open, walks towards you, and hands it over. “Take two and you should be asleep in thirty minutes.” 

“Thanks.” You take a couple, as she advises, and hand the jar back to her. You slowly chew on them, keeping your eyes on the screen in front of you. The images start to pass like a blur and you can’t retain what you’ve just watched. 

About twenty minutes later, your eyelids start to droop, feeling the melatonin kick in. You begin to feel a bit tired, so you fully close your eyes and drift off to sleep. 

You find yourself in a sewer, blindly moving through a lightless tunnel—with no clue as to how you ended up there. It’s dark, you note to yourself, and it smells foul. The muddy water splashes with each step and it rises as you go through, practically filling your boots. There’s a mist as well, blocking nearly half of your sight of the tunnel. You try to squint through the fog, trying to make out what’s ahead. 

You’re able to see a small light at the end. As if you had no control over your body, you run towards it—but it never gets any bigger. You can feel your heartbeat pounding against your chest as your legs keep you running. 

But then you slip. 

You swear you had felt a pull on your leg, but you couldn’t tell due to the murkiness of the water. You end up on your hands, your lower half is soaked, still in the water—you can’t even make out your reflection. You look closer at it, trying to see what could be underneath it. Suddenly, a hand pushes your head down. 

The dirty water fills up your nose and you struggle to escape from this person’s hold on you. As you’re submerged, you hear it. The familiar voice, but you can’t pinpoint where you’ve heard it. 

“Can you float?” 

You freeze, hearing those words. 

The hand lets go and you resurface, taking in a deep breath of much needed air. You look up at your tormentor, who looks down at you with a smirk. His teeth are sharpened, shining with the little light of the tunnel. His eyes are dark and long eyelashes curl on top of his eyelids. Raven-black bangs stick to his forehead—from sweat or water—you couldn’t tell. You look up a bit further, spotting the deviled horns on his head. 

You put it together. 

It’s Wonwoo. But, what’s he doing here? 

He tilts his head at you, pitying you as if you were a lost kitten. His lips fully curl from a smirk to a sinister smile. He lowers his head closer to you. 

“Can you float?” he asks. 

You don’t have the words to answer him; you don’t think you can find any. 

He asks again. “Can you float?” 

Before you say anything, he shoves your head underneath once more. 

It’s been two weeks since the sleepover (and the last time you had proper sleep). Classes have started up again, but you’re already tired. It isn’t even from the goddamned workload (which you are definitely not doing). Since the sleepover, you’ve had the same recurring nightmare over and over. Same place, same face. 

Right now, you sit at a table in the dining hall with a single coffee mug that’s already empty. You wait for your friends to arrive at the table, tapping away at your phone, trying to make yourself busy. 

“What’s up,” Chaeyoung says. She takes the seat in front of you and sets her plate on the table. She spots the sad coffee mug and looks between it and you, before asking. “Is that all you’re getting?” 

You set your phone down. “No, I also had a bowl of ice cream earlier.” 

“(Y/N), it’s noon.” 

“Sugar means energy.” 

She lets out a sigh—not surprised, just disappointed. You would think after knowing you for so long, she would get used to your horrible eating habits. She is your meal buddy after all. She takes a stab at her food. “So how was your mid-semester break?” 

“I think we both know that break is a joke.” 

“Still.” 

“Well, I got to meet up with some of my old friends, spent some time with family—you know, all the good stuff.” You lean on the table with an elbow propped up and a hand underneath your chin. “How was yours?” 

“Eh, I did the same thing. It was nice to chill for a bit, but then I remembered how many readings I have to do.” 

You force a smile at her. “I haven’t done any of mine.” 

She throws her head back with a laugh. You start laughing too, at yourself and at her. 

Yongsun comes around to the table. She sets down another cup of coffee for you, which you previously asked for, and her own plate as she sits herself next to you. She looks between you and Chaeyoung. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing really,” you say. “Just talking about how oh-so productive we’ve been since break.” 

She gives you a bitter look with regret evident on her face “That break is a joke. I got nothing done either.” 

“Glad to know everyone is on the same track.” You take a sip of your coffee. 

“No offense,” Chaeyoung says. “But you look really tired. Are you okay?” 

Yongsun laughs, nearly choking on her food. “It’s the exams creeping up, that’s why her eye bags are a darker shade.” 

Your eyebrows slightly rise. “Not wrong, but doesn’t mean I don’t feel attacked.” 

“Are you having trouble sleeping again?” Chaeyoung asks. 

Yongsun takes a closer look at you. “You know, now that she’s said something. She’s not wrong. Are you okay?” 

You sigh and take another big sip of the coffee. “My friends made me watch It.” 

“That’s all?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Kind of.” You set the coffee down and lay your head on the table. “I’ve just been having the same nightmares for a while now and I can’t sleep.” 

“What do you see?” Yongsun asks. 

“Why? Are you going to psycho-analyze them like you do with the others?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Oh my god.”

“Now,” Yongsun says. She fully turns to you, pointing at you with her spoon. “What happens in your nightmares?” 

You hesitate. “The nightmare overall…. it makes sense but there’s a piece that I can’t figure out.” 

“What?” Chaeyoung asks. “You know what, just explain the entire dream and we’ll figure it out.” 

You scratch the back of your ear, feeling a bit sheepish of the whole thing. “Do you guys know Jeon Wonwoo?” 

There’s a silence, but you can practically see them racking their memory for him. You look between them, seeing if either one of them would know him. It’s ideal that they don’t, but if they do, they could probably picture it better. 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” Yongsun mutters under her breath. She speaks louder the second time. “That name is so familiar but I can’t pinpoint where.” 

Chaeyoung looks confused as well. “I get that. I feel like I know him too.” 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You let out a long sigh. “Because my nightmares are essentially him just trying to kill me.” You don’t take notice of Yongsun’s frantic typing on her phone. “I don’t understand why it’s him specifically.” 

Chaeyoung hums, nodding along to what you’re saying. “Maybe it’s just a random face from memory—you could have just seen his face and now it’s stuck. Is he ugly or something?” 

“He’s in my ethics class,” you say. “And he’s definitely not ugly.” 

“So he’s attractive and trying to murder you?” 

“Mmhm, basically.” 

“Is there a kink you aren’t sharing with us?” 

“No, who wants to be murdered?” 

“There’s lots of college kids who want to be murdered, (Y/N),” Yongsun says. 

“Okay, fair point.” 

“In other news though.” Yongsun pauses and sets her phone down for all three of you to see. “I found him and I can confirm that he is hot.” 

You take a peek at the Facebook profile—the familiar face is in the little profile image and you shudder out of habit. You move away from the phone, feeling uncomfortable from his face. “Yup, that’s him.” 

“Jesus,” Chaeyoung says. She grabs the phone and zooms in on the image. “This is the face you’re seeing? How can someone look like that?” 

You grimace. “I can’t.” 

“What do you mean?” Yongsun asks. 

“I sit in the front, far away from him, so I don’t have to look at him anymore.” 

“What do you think this means?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“From my perspective,” Yongsun says. “Maybe you’re scared of how attractive he is.” 

You and Chaeyoung squint at her, both not understanding. She continues. “This can mean a lot of things. I need the context.” 

You try to recollect your dream memories. It isn’t hard, considering the fact that you’ve had the same nightmare for a couple of weeks. Although, there have been odd additions every once in a while. Just last night, you were on an empty road rather than a sewer. Sometimes there was the pile of children there and would start floating in front of you. Wonwoo stood in front of it, just staring at it, before turning his head to you to start shoving you into the water. 

You shrink in your seat. You feel like throwing up. 

“Well?” Yongsun asks. “Any details?” 

You grimace again. “I would rather not share while we’re eating.” 

Chaeyoung looks at you with a bit of worry in her eyes. “Do you think you’ll be okay?” 

“Yeah.” You drown the rest of your now-cold coffee down. “It’ll be fine. It’s not like Wonwoo’s a friend. How hard could it be to avoid him?”

Another restless week passes and you’re convinced your sleeping schedule will never bounce back. You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up somehow—it’s your third cup of coffee of the day and it’s done nothing for you. 

It’s 11:20am and class is supposed to start in ten minutes. The class is already half full of students. Everyone else fiddles with their phones, or talks to others about weekend plans. You sit in your seat with a laptop out, fully blanking out, but attempting to stay awake. Granted, you can just ditch, but attendance counts and if your GPA is below 3.0, you can kiss that scholarship goodbye. 

You groan from the thought of being in this class for an hour. You lay your head on the table, feeling the cold table pressed on your cheek, and closing your eyes for just a moment. 

Suddenly, a chill comes over you and you feel more awake than ever. You open your eyes, only to see Wonwoo walk in. His backpack is slung over one shoulder; he wears a soft, black cardigan that’s tugged on his hands to form sweater paws. He has his hair down, tousling through his bangs with his long fingers. He looks like such a soft boy. 

Despite his boyish looks, you felt your body physically react. Chills run up your spine and you felt the hairs on your arms raise. You feel more alert than you’ve been in weeks. You quickly sit up and straighten out your back at his presence. That’s right: you’re in ethics. You always forgot, until you came to class, see him and the nightmares become daytime horrors. 

You let out a sigh. Somehow, you feel more exhausted than before, despite feeling more awake in Wonwoo’s presence. Once the professor arrives, she immediately starts her lecture. Frankly, you can’t even remember what she’s talking about. It all goes in one ear and out the other. You simply type away, your note page expanding as each minute passes. 

An hour eventually passes and you let out a breath of relief. 

“Alright class,” she says. “Remember for the next class, we will be working on our papers, so bring those laptops fully charged and be prepared for discussion.” 

Everyone, including yourself, groans. 

“We need to start preparing for the final and, from my previous feedback, I hear this is really helpful. So, prepare yourselves.” Your professor shuts off the monitor and starts to shut her books. “Now, get out.” 

No one had to be told twice; everyone practically floods out of the room, ready to take a nap or eat, or whatever else college kids do. With the combination of your previous exhaustion and the lecture, you were moving slower than usual, not wanting to tire yourself out further. You could feel your body nearly shutting down again. You close your eyes once more as you rotate your neck around. Once again, you feel the chills creep up your back.

You follow your instincts and open your eyes, spotting Wonwoo from the corner of your eye. Unknowingly, you flinch, immediately looking away from him. He tries to smile in your direction on his way out, but you move your body away from him, trying to look preoccupied as you shove your books into your bag. 

Once he leaves, you let out a long sigh you didn’t realize you held in. Resting your head on the table, you close your eyes—only to see the images of Wonwoo from your nightmares with devil horns. You sit back up, rubbing your eyes and trying to shake the sight of him out of your mind. 

This is going to be harder than you thought. 

“Paging Sleeping Beauty, are you awake?” 

You slowly sit up from the library table, trying to keep your eyes awake as you lean on your hand. “Yes, sir. I am physically present.” 

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow at you. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“When am I ever okay?” 

“Fair.” He sets down his books in front of you and takes a seat. “How much did you get done?” 

“I just finished the draft and took a lil nap.” 

“In a public space?” 

“I didn’t get robbed. I’m fine.” 

He blinks at you, shakes his head and tries to move on from the odd comment. “Anyways,” he says, pulling out his laptop. “I finished my essay earlier during class, so.” 

“So it might be garbage?” 

“Hell no.” He opens the laptop, mindlessly moving the mouse around. “I’m just saying, consider the conditions when you read this. I was in a highly stressed environment.” 

Seungkwan and you have the same professor for ethics (just at different times), so it only made sense to work together for this paper. You two knew each other from a previous class and bonded over a mutual friend of yours, Soonyoung. Obviously, suffering is the only way to bond with other college students, hence your blossomed friendship with Seungkwan. 

You rub your eyes, trying to keep yourself awake in front of his laptop. But, it doesn’t help and the words start to blur together. After the third sentence, you lean back and close your eyes in an attempt to regain your focus. 

“Hey.” You feel his hand on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You reopen your eyes, to see concern in Seungkwan’s eyes. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to answer. “I just haven’t been getting much sleep lately and there’s only so many sleeping pills a person can take.” 

“Is it stress?” 

“Not… not exactly.” 

He raises an eyebrow, leaning his chin on his hand. “Do tell, (Y/N). If not stress, is it a lover?” 

You give him an unamused look at his teasing. “Ha ha. No.” You shift in your seat. “I’ve been having nightmares about this guy in my class.” 

“Ooooh?” 

“Stop it.” 

He pouts. “Can you at least tell me who? I might know who it is.”

You rub the back of your neck, feeling a bit apprehensive. The problem is that he does know everyone. Apparently, everyone else seems to know Wonwoo, one way or another. He does have that reputation of looking like a moody emo bad boy. The fact that he’s good looking means he gets away with being creepy. But then again, he is polite to everyone—a very well mannered boy. You sigh, feeling the exhaustion hit all at once.

“I have a suspicion that you know who it is,” you say. You let out another sigh. “It’s Wonwoo.” 

His eyes sparkle with interest. “Jeon? Jeon Wonwoo??” 

You let out another sigh and place your head in your arms, muffling the groans you make. “Jesus, of course you know him.” 

He makes a face. “Why?” Before you can answer him, he leans closer to you. “What’d he do?” 

You can feel yourself inwardly cringing before the words even come out. You feel embarrassed about making a big deal about this small thing. “He’s done nothing to me. He’s just scary.” 

“Wonwoo is one of the least scary people I know.” He moves away, looking off into the distance as if to collect his thoughts. “Minghao… He’s on that list, but Wonwoo? He’s like a scared cat…” At this point, he’s just mumbling to himself. 

You look up, resting your head on your folded arms. “Earth to Seungkwan?” 

“Right, back to you.” He pauses. “So these nightmares, are they that bad that you’re losing this much sleep?” 

You nod. 

“Wow, is he that scary to you?” 

“Well, considering in the dream that he’s trying to murder me… I would say he’s pretty scary.” 

“Okay, but what’d you think about him before?” 

“Before what?” 

“Like, before you started dreaming about his face and death.” 

You blink, staring at him for a bit, lost in thought. You haven’t really thought about Wonwoo without the devil horns, but then again, you don’t really talk to him. It’s a required class, so there’s a lot of people in this lecture hall. Also, it’s a lecture hall, it’s not like people have a chance to interact with one another. The only reason why you’ve heard of him is because of your mutual friends. You admit though, he is attractive. 

But you couldn’t let Seungkwan know that. He would never let it go and he’s friends with Wonwoo. Who knows what he’d do with this information. 

“I was neutral about him,” you say. “Since I don’t really know much about him.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t even find him attractive?” 

You grumble as you begin to sit up. “Can we not talk about this and go back to suffering?” 

“Ugh.” He throws his head back in a dramatic fashion. “I wanted the tea though.” 

“This ain’t a tea shop honey, so I’m not giving you any.” You put your attention back to his laptop. “Let me just go over this draft and you can trash mine.” 

You push your laptop towards him with the draft of your paper open. 

He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Fine, but I want details later.” 

“Boba break?” 

“Boba break.” 

Your professor sets down her books on the podium. “Alright class, please pull out your drafts. Your classroom partners are already assigned on the classroom page. If you can’t find it, it’s also on the projector.” 

Your eyes don’t move away from your computer screen. The list of peer review partners has been pulled up and you scroll through it to find yours. You can only stare once you spot it. 

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

This can’t be right. 

You look from your screen to the projector. Your names are clear on the screen. 

(Y/N) and Wonwoo

Someone clears their throat, snapping you out of your inner panic. “You’re (Y/N), right?” 

To your right, Wonwoo stands with his messenger bag, a couple of textbooks in his hands, and a polite smile on his face. You can only nod, feeling the chills run up your back. He takes the empty spot next to you and sets down his things. Having him sit so close to you… it’s even scarier than you even imagined. 

He glances at you with a small smile. Ugh, he is handsome. You’ll give him that.

As he turns his head, you get a closer look at his profile. In an instant, you see the devil-horned image of him flash. You shudder, turning away and wordlessly setting your laptop closer to him. 

You manage to speak up, but it gets quieter as you talk. “Here’s my draft. You should be able to make comments… suggestions or something…” 

He gives another smile (although you don’t see it) and hands you his laptop. “I have my draft on here too. I’m sorry, but it’s still a bit messy.”

His voice is so soft, despite his cold features. You take another glance at him to take his laptop. Your hands brush against his and you try to ignore the goosebumps that raise on your arms—whether it’s from fear, you can’t tell. 

For a while, it’s quiet. Everyone is working on peer-editing their partner’s drafts, including you and Wonwoo. You both read through one another’s drafts. Ugh, he’s such a good writer. This was supposed to be a rough draft, but he makes it look like the final draft. This thesis makes sense; the support from the text is present; the counter-argument is made and redirected back to the thesis. Meanwhile, your draft probably looks even more half-assed than you originally intended for it to be. 

You go through the document again to try to give some feedback on his draft, despite how hard it is to make something up. By the end, you only manage to give him three comments. Turns out, you had finished earlier than you’d thought. You look around, seeing everyone still working and interacting with their partners, before looking over at him.

He stares intensely at your screen, still scrolling through the hot mess you call a rough draft. Every couple of seconds, he types a comment and you feel yourself flinch at how hard he presses on the keyboard. You knew it wasn’t the best, but there’s no way for it to be the most awful thing you’ve written. You hadn’t even realized you’ve been staring until he turns his body towards you. 

You lightly flinch at the sudden eye contact and, unconsciously, inch away from him. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he sets your laptop next to you. 

“I wrote a couple of recommendations as to how you could expand on your argument further. I think you have a solid thesis and the evidence you provide from the texts are very strong. I didn’t know what else I could add, so I did the best I could to add some comments to help. You don’t have to use them, but they were just some ideas I thought you could use.” 

He gives you another smile and you couldn’t help to feel a bit touched. Typically, people half ass these types of assignments. To see that he actually put effort into it and even added in ideas you can use... 

You push his laptop further away from you and he immediately scrolls through it, before you can get a word in. That’s probably why the word vomit began and you haphazardly try to explain things, without even looking at him in the eye. 

“I couldn’t really add in as much as you did. I thought it was really well thought out and made some really good points. I just made a couple of comments on word choice, grammar, and how it all connects. You’re a really good writer so you don’t have to really pay attention to these things. They really don’t make a big difference or anything. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you anything particularly helpful…” 

You trail off from your nervous rambling, glancing up at him to take in his reaction. He looks rather sheepish; his hand rubs the back of his neck and light blush dusts his cheeks. 

“It’s really nothing… I’m not that good…” 

This vision of Wonwoo is definitely a 180 from your nightmares. The stoic and heartless image of Wonwoo with devil horns flashes once again. But then, you take another look at him. All you see a shy boy, flushed from a couple of compliments from a classmate he doesn’t even talk to—well, at least, until now. 

You both sit there for a bit in silence, fiddling with your laptops in an attempt to work on your drafted papers. From what you can read, he put a lot of thought into his recommendations. After about five minutes, as the conversation around you begins to stir up again, he turns his body to you. 

“Are the comments okay?” He pauses. “Were they able to help you?” 

You hum and give a small nod. “I think with your suggestions this paper will be a bit easier to write.. I’m sorry for not being able to help you much with yours.” 

He speaks in a small voice that you almost don’t hear. “You did help though…” 

You give him a sheepish smile. “Not really. I gained more from this than you were able to… it’s unfair, sorry...”

“You shouldn’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, you tried your best.” 

You let out a light laugh. “Did I though? I’m sure you’ve gotten more helpful feedback from other people.” 

“Well, most people here don’t really care about this since this doesn’t ‘count for points.’” 

“You’ve got a point.” 

“Alright,” your professor says. “Considering how much you’re all talking, I’m assuming you’re done exchanging your drafts. If you’re done, you can leave. Consider it a reward for finishing early.” 

You start to pack your things, as does Wonwoo. The both of you remain silent for a while, but, as you get up to leave, he speaks up with a soft voice. 

“Did you want to work together on this paper later sometime?” 

Before you can answer, he continues. “I just meant, like… I know you and Seungkwan work together and I was wondering if I could join you two or something. You don’t have to! I was just curious since Seungkwan and I work on it together too and I just thought it would be good if we all meet up.. together or something…” 

“Oh…” Frankly, you didn’t even know they were working on the essay together too. No wonder Seungkwan’s draft was so good—that son of a bitch. On one hand, you already know Seungkwan is most likely to agree. On the other hand, you are still unsure you’re mentally prepared to willingly spend more time with him. 

He’s nice, but you’re apprehensive as to how your brain is going to interrupt this. Who knows what your unconscious can unload? What if he transforms into a demon in your next dream? What if he turns into one of those gross monster-sized spiders and eats you whole? 

Another chill runs down your spine, but you fake an unbothered smile. “I’ll talk to Seungkwan.” 

He smiles back; it’s small, but genuine. 

You sit at the library, tapping your fingers on the table as you wait anxiously for the boys’ arrival. You flip your phone over again, to check the time and any new text notifications from Seungkwan. You were starting to regret all your life’s decisions. Okay, maybe that’s too dramatic—even for you. But, you are regretting your decision of joining Seungkwan and Wonwoo’s study session. 

To be honest, when you said you would talk to Seungkwan, that was 100% a lie. So, when you get a text from Seungkwan… you are more than shocked to find that he has oh-so graciously arranged the study session for you. That also meant getting a couple of pokes from him. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. As if he knew someone was talking shit, he enters the library and easily spots you in your usual corner. He drops his backpack onto the table and sits himself across from you, pulling out his laptop and textbooks. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I had a couple of questions for my professor and…. I forgot how much that man likes to talk.” 

“Hm, sounds like someone I know.” 

“Ha ha, very funny (Y/N).” He opens his laptop and starts to skim through his books, but, eventually, he gets bored and looks back at you.

You feel his eyes on you and look up from your own laptop. “What?” 

“From our last conversation, you said you were scared of Wonwoo.” Save it for Seungkwan to be blunt rather than beating around the bush. 

“I didn’t say that—” 

“It was implied.” 

Your lips purse, finding yourself at a loss of words. “What about it?” you mumble, shrinking into your seat. 

“Soooo,” Seungkwan says. “Why did you agree to the study group?” 

You frown, squinting at him. “I’m sorry, but who decided to put us all into a group chat???” Your frown becomes a pout. “You can’t just put me in a group chat, ask about a meeting time, and think I’m going to be the asshole who says ‘oh no, I can’t make it.’ Then have you point out that I’m not doing anything.” 

He shines a bright smile at you, ignoring your negative tone. “You wouldn’t have joined so otherwise.” 

“Ha! So it was a ruse!” 

“Of course it was.” He leans back to his seat. “You were so scared of him—look at you now, you’re making plans with him.” 

“You made the plans.” 

He waves a finger at you, “Semantics.” 

You can only roll your eyes at him and type away, trying to sort out and prioritize on your latest assignments. “Why do you care so much about what I think about him?” 

He blinks and you swear, for a second, he seems to have run out of words. You raise an eyebrow at his silence. 

“Well... “ He stammers. “I—I just... just want all of my friends… to—to get along and be… friends.” 

Your eyebrows furrow and you hum along, but you don’t believe a single thing he says. “It’s all the subconscious. I never had a problem with him in the first place.” 

“Problem with who?” 

You both turn around to see Wonwoo and another boy standing next to you two. From the unfamiliar voice, you can assume it was said by Mingyu—the other participating victim in the groupchat Seungkwan made. 

“No one,” Seungkwan says. “Problem with no one—right, (Y/N)?” 

You can only stare wide-eyed as you glance between them. “Yes, what he said.” 

Mingyu laughs. “Uhm, okay.” 

They both seat themselves at the table with you and Seungkwan—Wonwoo on one side and Mingyu on the other. They both give you a friendly smile and start to pull out their materials. You can only smile back awkwardly, typing away at your laptop. 

“No offense,” Mingyu says. “I’m glad to be here, but I’m confused why I’m here.” 

“It’s a study group and you’re our friend,” Seungkwan says. 

“We’re not in the same class.” 

“Moral support.” 

“For what?” 

He glances at you, which makes you narrow your eyes at him. He turns his attention back to Mingyu. “For things.” 

Mingyu raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“So,” Wonwoo says. “Shall we get started?” 

“What should we start on?” you ask. 

“I was thinking maybe the essay since that’s due the soonest,” Seungkwan says. 

You all nod along, even Mingyu. 

“So, I’m not involved either way,” Mingyu says. “This is fine, I totally don’t feel left out.” 

Seungkwan shrugs. “You can do other assignments too.” 

Mingyu pouts and his silent sulking is ignored. 

You and Wonwoo chuckle at their antics. “Sorry buddy,” he says. “This plan wasn’t scheduled well.” 

“Hey!” 

Wonwoo ignores Seungkwan and turns to you. “Were you able to work on the essay?” 

You shift in your seat, feeling awkward from suddenly being in his direct line of vision. “Yeah, I did—it’s coming along. Thanks again, by the way.” 

“It’s not a problem. I’m glad I could help,” he says. “Did you want me to look at it?” 

Your eyes widen, meeting Seungkwan’s, who makes a face. To be honest, you haven’t worked on it since you opened it during class and you’re too embarrassed to say you’ve been procrastinating. It’s due in two days and who says you can’t write an essay in one night (who isn’t a professor). 

“Are you having trouble concentrating again?” Seungkwan asks. Before you can answer, he interjects himself. “Is this because you’re still having sleeping problems? Dude, just keep popping those pills.” 

The other two’s attention have been turned to you. You inwardly groan from the eyes and try to focus on Seungkwan—but your body responds for you with a grimace. “Can you not say it like that? It’s melatonin and they’re technically vitamins.” 

“Hmmm, sure.” 

“You have sleeping problems?” Mingyu asks. 

You sheepishly rub the back of your neck. “Yeah, it’s not that big of a deal though.” 

Seungkwan snorts. “Sure it isn’t. It’s not like you were nearly falling asleep when editing my essay just a couple of days ago.” 

You smile. “I bought you boba though.” 

“But can I really be bribed?” 

“Of course not,” you say. “Because no one can afford your high maintenance.” 

Seungkwan’s jaw drops from your bluntness, but there’s a small smile in it. Mingyu doubles over in laughter and Wonwoo tries to hold his in—the smile on his face gives it away, causing you to laugh as well. 

Seungkwan quickly straightens up in defense. “This is what I get for trying to be nice.” 

You give him another teasing smile. 

“Okay, okay,” Mingyu says. “How bad is this sleeping problem?” 

“It’s..” You click your tongue, recalling as to how bad your sleep schedule has been since these nightmares began. “It’s really bad, dude.” 

“You know,” he says, turning his body towards you. “There are foods good for sleep.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, one time I made this banana almond parfait.” 

“Oooh, sounds fancy—”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Seungkwan says. “But I doubt that’s going to help (Y/N)’s situation.” 

“Why not?” Wonwoo asks. 

You’d almost forgotten he was there for a second. 

“It’s a subconscious thing.” 

Wait a second. 

“So it’s psychological problems?” Mingyu asks. He props his chin into his hands. “Do tell.” 

You stifle a laugh. 

Wonwoo is the one who speaks for you. “Mingyu, you just met her and you already want to open up her psyche?” 

“What’s a better way to get to know someone?” 

“Anything else, bro.” 

Mingyu’s lips purse, then form into a pout. “Booooooooo.” 

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s just move on. We actually have to work on this essay.” 

“Boooooo!” 

“Shut up, Seungkwan.” 

“I don’t care what anyone else says,” Chaeyoung says. “Lizard people are real.”

Yongsun nods along, digging her spoon further into her ice cream. “I’d buy into it. Matthew McConaughey has a lizard smile.” 

You can only sigh in disappointment and put your head in your hands. “Why am I friends with you people?” 

Your comment is ignored and Chaeyoung continues to talk. “Controversial statement: Shawn Mendez? Lizard person.” 

“Oh my God, he kind of does.” Yongsun shows her screen to the both of you. “He has the same lizard smile as Matthew.” 

As the two continue to converse other celebrities with lizard qualities, you sit at the other side of the booth, playing with your food. Dining hall food isn’t great, but it is free. What’s the point of these dinners, if you’re just going to want to throw it back up from these types of conversations? 

A couple of weeks ago, y’all had a whole conversation as to how Ted Bundy got away from his crimes for such a long time (to be honest, he wasn’t even really attractive so….). Then, last week, y’all talked about white boy names—the looks you got from people with those names were absolutely hilarious. Side note: you don’t give a solid shit to anyone named Todd (what Todd have you met that WASN’T an asshole?). 

By now, you’ve just learned to sit back and let these topics just… happen. At some point, these conversations are going to bite you in the ass. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You look up from your plate. 

“I thought that was you,” Mingyu says with a smile. 

You return it with one of yours. “Hey, Mingyu, right?” 

“Yeah! I’m Seungkwan’s friend—although, I’m more known for being Wonwoo’s.” He pauses, before mumbling to himself. “And Jungkook’s…” 

“Wonwoo?” Chaeyoung asks. 

“Jeon Wonwoo?” Yongsun adds. 

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “You know him?” 

“We’ve heard of him,” Yongsun says, nudging your rib. You smack her elbow away. 

Chaeyoung scoots herself over. “If you want, you can sit with us.” 

“Sure,” he says. “I have class in an hour, so I have time.” He sits himself next to her and looks between you and the other girls. “So, what are we talking about?” 

Yongsun swallows her ice cream, pointing her spoon at him. “Lizard people.” 

You push her spoon out of the way. “Can we please move away from this subject?” 

“They! Are! Here!” Chaeyoung bangs her fists on the table, along each syllable. 

You put your head back into your hands. “Oh my God. You need to stay off the internet.” 

“Lizard people…” Mingyu says slowly. “What is this exactly?” 

You look up, eyes wide and warning. “You do not want to ask her that.” 

“So, there are theories that some people roam around Earth—” 

“And, so it begins.” 

Chaeyoung ignores you. “—as lizards. They are living amongst us and planning to overthrow the human race.” 

“We’ve possibly identified a couple of them,” Yongsun says. “Hear us out. Matthew McConaughey and Shawn Mendez. Thoughts?” 

“You do not have to answer them, by the way,” you say to him. 

As if Mingyu was possessed by someone else, he nods along as he listens. “I could definitely see that. They have weird face structures.” 

Your jaw drops from his participation in your weird dinner discussions. Your respect for him as a person has dropped. “Dude, don’t encourage them!” 

Chaeyoung points at him, as if he isn’t present. “I like him better than that Wonwoo guy.” 

“Ditto,” Yongsun says. 

“I thought you guys didn’t know him?” Mingyu asks. His head tilts to the side—for a second, he looks like a puppy. 

“We don’t,” Yongsun says. She slurps up the remaining ice cream melting from her bowl. “(Y/N) mentioned him and we looked him up—he’s just as hot as (Y/N) said.” 

Your cheeks flush and you flick some of your water in her direction. “That’s not what I said!” 

Her lips purse in response and she continues to slurp from her bowl. Meanwhile, Chaeyoung gives you a look, which you refuse to acknowledge. 

On the other hand, Mingyu’s attention has been turned to you in interest. His eyebrow raises and you start to squirm. 

“So,” he says with a twirl of his fork. “What have you said about Wonwoo?” 

You’d honestly thought this conversation was behind you, especially since you had dodged away from the topic during your study group a couple of days ago. The difference between Seungkwan and these two is that these two have very little regard for your opinion. While they are your friends, they are also very invasive and you are very sure that they will ignore your protests. It’s almost as if they had heard your thoughts—they answer the question for you. 

“She said he’s attractive,” Chaeyoung says. 

“Technically,” Yongsun says. “She said he wasn’t ugly and I think she also said he murders her.” 

Mingyu turns to you with surprise. 

Just when you thought you had died before, you were sure that you have died now and were stuck in your customized purgatory hell. 

“That,” you say into your hands. “Was not what I said.” 

Yongsun squints at you. “Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you defining your death kink with those weird dreams.” 

You stare at her for a while before deciding on what to say. “Are you on crack? I was sure that your crackhead energy was drained last week during your history exam.” 

“How dare you? I am completely sober.” 

“Debatable.” 

You both turn back to the other two at the table, where Chaeyoung continues to eat and Mingyu stares off with confusion evident in his features. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But what’s the piece I’m missing?” 

“I’ll give you a short version,” Chaeyoung says. “You see, (Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her and we think it’s a loo—hey!” She grabs a napkin to wipe her, now, wet hair. 

You give her a bright, fake smile as she playfully glares at you and the glass of water you’ve flicked on her. Yongsun chuckles at your antics and turns to Mingyu. “Either way, it’s 100% repression.” 

“Repression of what exactly?” you ask. 

“Attraction,” Yongsun points out. 

You flick some more water at her, ignoring her yelps. You turn your attention to Mingyu. “Ignore them and everything they’ve said because it isn’t true.” 

“Lies!” Chaeyoung says. “Yongsun’s right. It’s probably repression because Wonwoo is definitely hot—stop throwing water at me!” 

You ignore her once again, flicking more water from your glass. “I did not say he was hot. I just admitted that he wasn’t ugly!” 

As you continue to attack your friends with your water, Mingyu stays silent, but makes note from the conversation. Oh, how things will become more interesting….

You continue to type on your laptop, wrapping the conclusion paragraph with one last sentence. You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” you mutter under your breath. This god forbidden essay is done and you can easily turn it in. You look up from your screen, where Wonwoo continues to type on his. 

His glasses sit on the edge of his nose and his eyes are narrowed, as if to physically focus on the words. You have to admit: the glasses suit him and his oversized sweater. While he has worn them every once in a while, this is one of the rare times you’ve seen him this close up. He looks like a soft boy molded from a John Green book. 

You look a glance around and, seeing how he’s gathered the attention of a few people, you can tell you aren’t the only one who’s noticed. To be fair, if it wasn’t for your nightmares, you would be a lot more attracted to him. 

Admittedly, it has been nice to spend this time with him—you managed to reduce some of those nightmares and get a bit more sleep. You might even admit that he’s a friend more than just a classmate now. 

Speaking of friends, Seungkwan and Mingyu are pretty late. It’s been 20 minutes of just you and Wonwoo. You don’t mind, but you all made a plan to meet here (since the essay is due tonight). 

“Are you done with your essay already?” 

Wonwoo’s voice snaps you out of your inner ramblings. You look towards his direction, freezing from the sudden eye contact. “Huh?” 

He clears his throat. “Are you... done? With the essay?” 

“Ah, kind of. It’s probably bad, but it’s done.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine. Let me see.” He gestures to your laptop. 

“Compared to your English major ass?” You pull the laptop closer to you. “No.” 

“(Y/N),” he says with a sigh. “I’m sure it’s not even bad.” He gets ahold of the top of your laptop, lightly tugging it away from your grasp. You can only pout as the device is taken away from your hold and he begins to read. You place your chin into your hands, watching Wonwoo’s eyes dance from sentence to sentence. 

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until he makes eye contact with you and sets your laptop back near you. If he noticed, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

Wonwoo adjusts his glasses, pushing them closer to the bridge of his nose. When his face comes to view, there’s a small smile. “I told you your essay was fine. In fact, you could probably turn it in right now.” 

Your lips purse, considering the idea, even though you were already planning to. Originally, you wanted Seungkwan to check it too—especially since he saw the real rough draft of it, which was a blank document. 

“I kind of wanted to wait for Seungkwan,” you say. “Since we all agreed to do it together.” 

He nods along with your words. “It makes sense.” He looks at you with a head tilt, thinking aloud. “Where is Seungkwan?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you say with a small laugh. “Is Mingyu coming?” 

He checks his phone, wrinkling his nose as he squints at the screen and scrolls through his messages. “Honestly, I have no idea—last time I checked, he was supposed to.” 

“Yeah, I ran into him yesterday and I assumed he was coming too.” 

“Oh yeah,” Wonwoo says. “How was the lunch?” 

“It was actually pretty funny beca—” You stop. You didn’t mention anything about lunch… so, how did he know about that? Your eyes narrow at him. “Did Mingyu tell you already?” 

“Uh.” Wonwoo’s eyes shift. “Kind of?” He hunches a bit more over his own laptop, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mingyu basically tells me everything.” 

Mingyu basically tells me everything. 

Oh, no. 

You try to recall exactly as to the different topics during that one hour lunch with him. He was almost late to his class, since he was in a heavy debate with Yongsun and Chaeyoung as to whether or not Perry the Platypus cosplayers are considered furries… 

It was a conversation that you had to be there for, in order for the context to be understood. 

There was also the topic of whether Twilight should be watched for ironic purposes and/or the cinematic value of it. There was also discussion about what was the weakest element—which Yongsun was debating on the side of water. 

You were getting off track; curse your friends for having such bizarre conversations. That line shouldn’t have triggered you, but for some reason, it feels off—as if there was something you were forgetting. You look at Wonwoo, who’s sitting across from you with flushed cheeks.

Wait a second. 

She said he’s attractive. 

Death kink with those weird dreams. 

(Y/N) has been dreaming about Wonwoo murdering her. 

Just when you thought things were just starting to become normal-ish between you two. 

Your face flushes as you remember all the things your friends said… which were most likely echoed to Wonwoo through Mingyu (seeing how much blush is present on his face). 

There’s only one thing you can say. “I can explain.” 

He lets out a little, breathless laugh—but it sounds more like an uncomfortable one. 

“It’s not as bad as it sounds, I swear.” 

He pushes his glasses up once more. “You—you don’t have to.” 

“It’s okay,” you say. “I should explain myself. It’s not supposed to sound as bad as they made it out to be and it’s not even your fault. I don’t even know why my subconscious chose your face out of anyone else’s. Yongsun said it’s repression, but you probably already know that and—” You sigh. “I’m—I’m sorry.” 

“For what? It’s not really your fault.” 

“Yeah, but I guess, it’s just in general.” Your fingers glaze over the keyboard, absentmindedly toying with the keys. “Over break, I watched a horror movie with my friends and then I started getting nightmares. Again, I don’t know why your face was there, but… it just was.” 

“I’m not mad,” Wonwoo says. “And it’s not your fault—you don’t have to apologize.” 

There’s a small silence, which is just you and Wonwoo looking at one another with wide eyes, unsure as to what happens next. 

“I will say,” Wonwoo says with a small voice. “I’m a bit flattered.” 

“That I dream of you murdering me?” 

“No.” He lets out a small laugh. “That your subconscious ‘chose my face.’” 

You chuckle rather sheepishly when he took the words from your previous rambling. “Yeah… Seungkwan suggested that it was just a face that was most memorable.” You let out a long sigh. “And Yongsun likes to psychoanalyze into things.” 

“So, do you… think my face… is attractive?” 

You look up at him from your keyboard, only to see him dodging your eyes. His Adam's apple moves as he swallows. On the table, you can see that his hands are curled underneath the sweater paws, moving as he fiddles with his fingers. You can feel yourself shrinking into your seat, shyness overpowering you. 

“Well….” you say. “You are… attractive…” You say the last part quieter than you intended, but Wonwoo’s eyes meet yours once the words are said. 

His face turns a shade darker and he smiles a bit wider than before. “Even.. Even if I was part of a nightmare?” 

You nod, but look off to the side to shake off the embarrassment. 

“I think you’re attractive too.” 

Your head turns to him, but his concentration is back to his laptop. While he can act like he didn’t say anything all he wants, the redness of his ears give his emotions away. You press your lips to repress your smile. 

A bag being thrown into the table interrupts your moment. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Seungkwan says, clearly out of breath. “This ladder here wanted to stop by Starbucks and there was a line.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” Mingyu yells. 

“It’s Starbucks! You should have known!” 

“You couldn’t have sent a text?” you ask. 

“My phone died,” he says with a pout. “Speaking of which, do you have a charger??” 

You can only sigh in disappointment, but rummage through your bag nevertheless. “You’re lucky I brought this one.” 

“You’re a lifesaver.” 

“I know, I know. Now sit down and shut up, people are looking.” 

When you open your eyes, you’re running—from what, you are unsure of. This tunnel is nearly pitch black dark. A part of you is calm, but the other is panicking. Probably due to previous experiences you’ve had in this subconscious. You continue to run, refusing to look back at whatever remains behind you, but you can hear its footsteps echoing. 

Your shoes are soaked and continue to splash against the muddy waters, as you continue to run. It stays dark for so long, but then it gets lighter, as if the sun poured itself into the tunnel. The footsteps stop. Whatever’s behind you diminishes. 

But you can’t stop running towards the light, which burns closer and closer. The light embraces you, shining brightly and bouncing along your surroundings. You try to shield your eyes from the sun, only to be greeted by shimmers. Your vision starts to clear, enough for you to identify your surroundings. 

You’re at the park. But what for? 

You stand in the grass, surrounded by trees and rose bushes. The flowers are just in bloom, blossoming towards you, as if you were the sun itself. The skies are clear of clouds and the sun shines down, but it isn’t beating. Butterflies flutter and graze above the ground, but they don’t get close enough to you. The birds are chirping lightly, sounding like a song’s melody. The air is fresh and the aura is soothing. 

As you walk through, you start to soak in the aroma. To the side, you notice a small hill with, no doubt, the best view. A picnic blanket is laid out, along with plates and other objects. 

Someone else is also there. 

It’s a familiar figure, but you can’t make out who it is from the distance. 

You call out. “Hello?” 

The figure turns and there Wonwoo sits.  He has his glasses intact, but, instead of the casual wear, he’s a bit more dressed up—his white button-up showcases his nicely built chest and his slacks reveals how long his legs are. 

He smiles at you, white pearls sparkling and eyes shining—you feel as if it’s almost like the buds have bloomed as well. For a moment, you think you’re stuck in a picture. 

And then the wind blows, brushing his hair against his forehead. 

“Are you coming, (Y/N)?” 

---

Your eyes shoot open. The warmness in your chest is gone and is replaced by the coldness of your sheets. You shift under the covers and attempt to sit up. 

The grogginess stays, but one thing remains in your mind—what was that and why did the dream change? 

It’s 11:15am once again and you sit at your unofficial reserved spot. Your head lies on the desk, awaiting for the other students and your professor to arrive at the lecture hall. Tiredness continues to overpower you as your eyes consistently flutter to shut and reopen. 

A knock on the table interrupts your attempted naptime. You look up to see Wonwoo’s face above yours. He gives you a small smile as he sets his bag on the seat next to yours. From his presence, you sit yourself up and rub your eyes, in an attempt to wake yourself. 

“Are you tired?” he asks. 

You can feel yourself internally curling from his close proximity. “Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He lets out a small, airy laugh. With a shake of his head, he jokes. “Still getting nightmares about me murdering you?” 

A blush creeps up to your face. “Ha… Not really,” you say. It’s not like it’s a lie, but it’s not exactly the truth. You unconsciously move yourself a bit further from him as you recall the image of him surrounded by roses. “It’s probably just insomnia—bad sleeping habits most likely piled up.” 

He nods, humming along as you speak. He rummages through his bag, pulling out his laptop and notebook. His side profile is illuminated through the sunshine that’s reflected on the window. He looks like he’s sparkling… 

You quickly turn away as soon as he moves his head towards your direction. God, you were starting to stare a lot more than usual. You shake your head as you try to refocus on what you were doing. 

What were you doing? 

Closing your eyes, you try to regain your train of thought—only for you to lose it immediately after. You eventually decide to pull out your laptop and open up your lecture notes. On another tab, you see the essay that you’ve already turned in. 

“Oh,” you say. You turn back to Wonwoo, “I almost forgot, did your essay turn out okay?” 

“Yeah, it took a little bit of editing but I turned it in on time.” 

“I’m sure it turned out great,” you say. “You’re definitely getting an A.” He gives you another shy smile and his cheeks start to blush. You shift into your seat, trying to find a comfortable position. “You’re really smart anyways,” you mumble. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you say. “Nothing at all.” 

“Well, I’m sure you’re getting an A too,” he says. “It was really well put together. At least, from what I remember.” 

“Ehh.” You shrug your shoulders. “We’ll see.” 

“Give yourself more credit, (Y/N),” he says in a softer tone. “You’re really smart and it’s okay for you to brag.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. His red ears have made a return. 

On the other hand, you position yourself in your seat to straighten up and hide your smile. You take the opportunity to glance around, noticing the other students who’ve entered the lecture hall. Others are starting to enter as well. 

You check the time on your laptop and it looks like it’s time for class to begin. Your professor arrives as well and sets up her materials. 

“Open up your textbooks and turn to page 304. We’ll start with the four categories of ethical theories.” 

Without turning from your laptop screen, your hand hovers over the textbook in your bag, but Wonwoo’s whisper interrupts your movement. 

“Did you forget your book? I’ll share mine with you.” 

You should probably say no, but your hand speaks for you, moving away from the bag. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” 

He gives another smile, leaning closer as he scoots the book towards you. Your professor continues to lecture, going over the slide’s content, but you can’t concentrate—not when Wonwoo’s this close. He smells like fresh laundry, the kind that you want to wrap yourself in before the warmth is gone. When you look at him, the sparkles return, along with the image of him from your dreams. 

“Hold up,” Seungkwan says. “Yongsun thought that water is the weakest element? It’s clearly fire.” 

“That’s what I said!” Mingyu yells. He sighs in disappointment from the recollection of the conversation and moves his strawberry milkshake to the side. “Fire is just a stupid element that can be destroyed by water AND all living things need water in order to survive. There are so many benefits to water and—” He stops himself with another sigh and takes a long sip of his milkshake. 

Next to him, you shake your head with a small laugh. Taking a fry from your plate for a bite, you can only observe and let the conversation take its course. While your focus remains on the other two, your eyes glance over towards Wonwoo, who sits in front of you. 

“I think earth is debatable,” Wonwoo says. “But, I feel like fire is the weakest due to the fact that it’s more destructive rather than productive.” 

While the essay was already due, Seungkwan invited you to dinner at a nearby diner. You figured that it’d be nice to not eat dining hall food for once, so you agreed. But when you got there, you didn’t expect Mingyu and Wonwoo to already be there—hence your current position in front of Wonwoo, next to Mingyu, in a booth, while they’re arguing about the strongest element. 

You blame Yongsun and Chaeyoung for this chaos; if they hadn’t pulled him into this conversation, he wouldn’t have brought it up now—which also dragged Seungkwan and Wonwoo into the discourse. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” you say. You continue to gnaw away at your fries, even when all three of their eyes land on you. Typically you’d refuse to engage in these conversations, but you refuse to let them walk around without an argument. 

Seungkwan clears his throat, as if he was asking you to elaborate. Meanwhile, Mingyu continues to sip on his shake and Wonwoo has an eyebrow raised. 

You let out a sigh from the eyes and toss the half-bitten french fry back to your plate before speaking. “You can argue that fire is the weakest, but we cook with fire and that’s what allowed our society to thrive because we started to have less time devoted to farming.” 

Seungkwan and Mingyu’s jaws slightly drop from your point, while Wonwoo smiles. 

“We can technically live without fire,” Seungkwan says. “We can go back to farming and let the animals thrive.” 

“First of all, cold temperatures are a thing and fire provides warmth. Secondly, did you not hear me? Cooking gave us more time to further develop society, so, without it, we would figuratively and literally be unable to live.” 

“She’s got a point,” Wonwoo says. 

“Thank you.” 

Seungkwan’s mouth moves, but no words find their way out. 

“Wow, I left Boo Seungkwan speechless,” you say, as you begin to finish off your fries. “You’re welcome.” 

Mingyu looks on impressively. “Niceeee.” 

“That’s a very hard feat,” Wonwoo says. “I’ll give you points for that.” 

Seungkwan has suddenly regained interest from Wonwoo’s words. He leans his chin on his hand, moving uncomfortably closer to Wonwoo, who attempts to swat him away. “When did you two get along so well?” 

“We have class together,” you say with narrowed eyes. 

“And I sit right next to her,” Wonwoo adds. 

Mingyu smiles slyly. “Since when did that happen?” 

You miss the way he looks over to Seungkwan. Wonwoo blinks at the question and you suddenly have developed more interest towards the salt on the fries. 

“I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Seungkwan says. 

“You invited me,” you say. “But okay.” 

“I know that,” he says with a huff. “But it just feels like a moment we shouldn’t be in.” 

You roll your eyes in response, but the smile on your face shows no malice. Wonwoo remains quiet—scratching his neck, feeling the heat creep up to his face. 

“So, are you dating yet?” Mingyu asks as he glances between you two. 

“Oh my God,” Wonwoo mutters. He lays his face onto the table with a thud and you almost choke from Mingyu’s directiveness. 

Mingyu goes on, ignoring both of your reactions. “You both like each other right? Well, at least, I know Wonwoo does.” 

“DUDE!” 

“Oops.” Mingyu’s lips pull back. He turns to Seungkwan. “Should we leave now?” 

“Please don’t,” Wonwoo whispers. 

Your jaw drops as you watch Seungkwan nod, smiling at you like nothing’s happened. Seungkwan and Mingyu side out of their side of the booth, but. before they leave, Mingyu drops one hand on each of your shoulders. “Don’t worry about the check. Consider it a present from your cupids.” 

“You owe me one, (Y/N)!” Seungkwan shouts from the door. They both head towards the door, giving both of you little waves with their fingers. 

Both you and Wonwoo sit in silence, not knowing what to say to the other. But, in all fairness, Wonwoo owes you the explanation. 

You swallow, suddenly feeling your throat dry up. “If it makes you feel better…” 

He looks up at you from the table. 

“I like you too.” 

A smile grows on his face and he starts to sit up slowly. “Really?” 

“What can I say?” Your smile mirrors his. “My subconscious chose you before I could.” 

He lets out a chuckle, readjusting his glasses and fiddling with his fingers, before settling them on the diner table. They’re free from the usual sweater paws and tap against the bright countertop. 

“Just to be clear,” he says. “You aren’t scared of me?” 

“Well, I was before,” you pause. “But that was before we even really talked or hung out. And now….” 

“What about now?” 

You blush, remembering the roses, the sparkling, the picnic—it all sounds so… nice. You couldn’t think of the words and Wonwoo could sense that. 

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” 

A sigh of relief escapes you. “Maybe next time then.”

His smile grows. “So, there’s a next time?” 

You nod, feeling the butterflies in your stomach and your heart pounds in your chest. His hand moves towards you, closer and with caution—so yours meets his halfway. When your fingers intertwine, he looks from your hands to you with sparkling eyes and you can feel the warmth return to your chest. 

This. 

This is what feels right. 

[sugar-petals]

Cygnet (m)

⇁ pairing jimin x reader

⇁ word count 8k 

⇁ genre royalty au | slow burn | smut, angst, action, drama

⇁ plot Under the sinister eyes of his hidden enemies, Crown Prince Jimin wants to prove his skill as your fencing disciple — and secret lover.

⇁ warnings foreplay, teasing, PDA, unhealthy relationships, violence, fights (physical/verbal), jealousy, assertive reader, sub!jm

⇁ a/n The time is right! I write about my home country. The story is less historical rather than a 19th-century convolute of German tradition influenced by “Swan King” Ludwig of Bavaria. 

He slices the curtain in half. The noise is sharp, the cut is messy. 

A jolt goes through the fevered crowd. King Albrecht rises from his seat in the central spectator’s box. With an exasperated strike from the side, you can barely ward off the Prince’s blade and create more distance between the two of you. Even the set of six clarions stops blaring at the end of the competition grounds. The colorful jesters, maidens, and buskers halt their endless chatter. Even the Princess, once preoccupied with eyeing up the musicians and floral swan decor all around the field, pays close attention.

The next, even taller metal frame shields you from the Prince’s following blow, long enough to switch the foil into your other hand.

But then— 

No time for just one breath. He’s going for another lunge. 

The consequent step almost causes you to slip. A hollow. The sand and earth are uneven. Oh, how you hate tournaments. Last weekend, the King celebrated his birthday with a grand mêlée. It must have been a rabid horse trampling across this section of the field at a more dashing speed than usual. But that is but a feeble excuse, isn’t it. At least, the hollow is not steep enough to twist an ankle. 

You seek to find more stable ground behind the next frame. There are about fifteen of them set up on the field, all of them draped with silver curtains to create an obstruction, and only seven left if you keep moving away from him. 

Crown Prince Jimin in his fencing armor, complete from helmet-head to pointed toe.

Spotting a blue piece of fabric trail left, then right, you see that he is indeed quick to follow. It is the bright neck scarf, attached to his belt.

“This is not a lance game, Y/N!” he intonates from behind the curtain. There’s rude pride in his voice.

You wait. Keep the foil in your right hand fixed. Once you see the Prince’s striking profile through the silver drape once more, which gladly, is not opaque enough to entirely conceal him, you step out to confront him with a feint from below. Going by the lax smile he flashes, he’s seen it coming. Your blade reaches the targeted spot on his shoulder delayed. The turmoil and caw of the audience peaks. He’s self-assured.

Again, you wait. Naturally, securely, the Prince bends sideward, preparing to counter. But then, he wavers. Casual, you retort his grin and angle your wrist enough to force him into a curve two times as stark than before through an angled flick. And so, it happens. 

He steps into the hollow. 

And falls over. 

In the moment of abstraction, you make the blade spring from his gloved right hand with a swirl of your own weapon. High outside. Strike.

The Prince exhales when you depress the tip of your foil in his mesh jacket, then plant it into the ground next to this face where it parts the loose earth. 

Inside the spectator’s box, seated next to the Princess, the three stoic judges raise their flags to signal the end and victory. 

“This,” you say, “is not a lance game, my Prince. There’s more to it than hitting your opponent.”

Clarions resound, as do percussions. It takes a few seconds until your breath calms enough. Applause crashes down like a wave from the podiums where the audience rises from their seats, throwing hats in the air, waving thick banners with golden swans and lions. 

“You got me there.”

The Prince, exasperated, unties the blue-white neckerchief at his belt and hands it to you. Chivalry. Above all bedlam, the bearded King’s jovial laughter and boisterous clapping accompanies the noise on the field.

An owl keeps on hooting outside in the arcade. You twist and turn in the sheets. It’s a relief that the maiden Anna knocks three times, then peeks inside the chamber in her blue nightgown. Equanimous, she informs you that the Queen will establish a banquet tomorrow evening.

“To celebrate the new swan pond in the royal garden.”

Big fountains, big dresses, big everything. You know how it goes. As usual. It’s what happens at Linderhof Palace all year long. At least you hate it less than tourneys. 

Anna, discreet as always, puts out the oil lamp on your bedstand, leaving a fade of smoke in the room. She disappears in the corridor with fast steps, headed to the quarters of the servants in the west wing. Judging by the silence in the Palace, even the jesters are either too tired or drunk by now to fool around as always.   

Once more, you try to recline in the pillows with a cool breeze coming from the open window. Although you don’t remember who left it open, you know very well how bleak the winds from the Alps can get at this time of the year. Getting up is easier than you thought, but you leave the duvet bottom-down to keep your warmth preserved instead of just kicking it to the side. 

The second blanket below that, however, you draw out to wrap around yourself like a cape.

Headed to the window, you realize that it is open with good and familiar reason. There is a pair of gloved, trembling hands attached to the frame. It’s how he always does it. You tease, bend forward, voice louder to overrule the breeze.

“My Prince? So late?”

“Is it?”

Two hazel eyes flicker at the bottom of the opening, also making visible the not-so-typical ruffled hair he has been sporting since this very morning.

“You promised me this session. Last year, did you forget? It’s almost spring. We did the tournament.”

“You really want to practice now?”

“What do I look like?”

You peer through the frame gazing downwards. It’s not just icy cold. The wind bristles through the haggard pine trees all around. He’s developed more resilience as of recently.

“A silly guy hanging off his sword master’s window two stories high, wanting to hear about the golden lesson of fencing.”

He huffs out a cloud of breath. Now, a pearl of sweat runs off his forehead if you allow yourself to look particularly close, which you do delight in: Nothing better than a royal late-night exercise.

“Fair— enough.”

“So?”

“You said it yourself. We don’t practice for war. We practice for fun. Don’t we? Come, one lesson. Just theory. You made a promise for today.”

The Prince grits his teeth when the next chilly gust of wind comes along from the valley. You stroke your chin a few times.

“Can’t break that one, can I. Or are you just a sulking loser trying to get revenge after I’m done explaining my secrets?”

“Y/N. I’ve been hanging here for several minutes now.”

You tap your foot. So much for not complaining about endurance training.

“Prince, I see that.”

“My arms are so limp, I can hardly wield anything.”

Very well. Judging by how his fingers clamp at the window, quite rigid now, they are.

“The chambermaid took longer than usual, I know. Come on in to Rapunzel, you climbing ace.”

Relief in his features.

“Here we go!”

You offer a hand— the stronger one. He pulls himself upward.

“Thank you, Master.”

The Prince glides into the room with snowy laced up shoes and a large coat on, making your own makeshift blanket cape fall reasonably short in terms of flamboyance. At least he’s learned from the first time when he climbed up in his sheer nightgown with an outrageously plunging cleavage. 

Now that he tries to stomp off the melting snow from his boots, you shush him fast.

“You fool! I’ve heard someone rummage in the kitchen.”

He closes the window with more care than he cleans his blades. Which means, hardly any. Some snow falls off the outside of the frame.

“Oh, really?

“You think a banquet prepares itself?”

The Prince frowns.

“Way past sunset?”

“Some people have to crook an extra finger unlike you sitting in the throne room eating apples. Sit down here, my Prince. At least you’ve come for theory.”

You eye the stack of books waiting at the fireplace. So does he.

“Sorry for the cold air.”

You pat the chair at the cast-iron oven for him to take a seat next to your wooden stool.

“If you come close enough, that will make up for it.”

The snow has melted off his shoes entirely, and the room temperature increases even more once you shove a scraggly block of wood into the oven. Although the kitchen does not seem to be bustling, here and there, a metal clank or wooden thud reaches the chamber, making either of you flinch. Keeping your voice low is a hard task given that theory lessons with the Crown Prince always cause a lively discussion.

“You’re more in the mood for learning when I defeat you, isn’t it so.”

He smiles. He shrugs. His oh-so famed eyebrows play whatever game. The fire tongues at the metal bars surrounding it, emitting a cozy heat around your feet.

All he can say— “The way of things.”

After tying your hair back with the help of the blue-white neckerchief, quite demonstratively so, you go through the pages of the old leather-bound book from the top of the stack.

“That’s quite lovely. You did try your best on the field today. You still can’t cut things in half properly. I’m still waiting for that day. But you improved with balance.”

The Prince rubs his poufy cheeks, then stretches out his arms as far as they permit, strained as his muscles have become.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “You pointed it out when we practiced in the forest. The shoulders. Upper body.”

“I like how you commit. Just be careful, my Prince.”

“Yes?”

You point at his torso.

“The more you focus on the flaw. The more you forget the things you’re good at. Which is?”

“Elegance.”

“Footwork.”

More surprise forms on his face.

“Footwork?”

“My Grand Prince. You know very well why I offered this lesson,” you pat the book with a flat palm, making dust escape from the pages. “With that attitude, you’ll have a hard time impressing the czarina. Or surpassing me.”

The Prince looks you dead in the eye now. His hands rest in his lap again.

“That is, if I want to.”

“Wasn’t it your motto when we started at Hohenzollern Castle?”

Your gaze shifts to the wooden sword holder at the far end of your chamber. The silver-colored sabre that you used at that time, named Cygnet after a witty suggestion of the Princess, remains the glistening centerpiece between all other blades. He sees it, too.

“I’ve changed my mind about what happened there, Y/N.”

“You’re probably right.”

Opening each metal button one by one, then shrugging his shoulders backwards, Jimin pulls off the big coat and rests it far away enough from the oven. His arms are almost completely slack. Outside, the pines still croak under the storm.

“I like being defeated,” he says, now before you in his purple princely jacket with the lion emblem. 

Again, you strike a testing voice.

“Are you content with being second in line, in front of the King? The czardom?”

He nods.

“If the crowd enjoys the show, so will my father. That’s why we have the tournament.”

Even if letting your eyes trail off downwards his garment is tempting, your gaze remains hard on him. 

“Albrecht cares more about the cakes and treats than the hierarchy, does he.”

“The Queen enjoyed the fights today.”

“If it wasn’t a banquet and for your arms, we could very well duel tomorrow.”

To put on a show, why not. To beat him again, why not.

“On even ground, yes.”

Marble, most likely. The garden with the adjacent arcade offers enough space. 

“That’s why I like duels,” your voice turns low. And tantalizing. “They’re very intimate.” 

“So do I.”

“Next week,” you lean forward, now in a whisper. “We might have a chance. Our generous Princess Marie is said to announce her departure to Saxony. We’d have enough time to ask the bard to organize a few minutes for us on the parquet.”

The Prince’s eyes light up. 

“Oh, right! I almost forgot what he said! That ball! I was just thinking about the banquet.”

“Yes. Can you persuade her? The czar family will be present, too.”

Seraphims and chandeliers decorate the ceiling, among the ubiquitous swan motif that adorns just about every plate and painting. The musicians gather, hasty. Some of them you recognize from the King’s annual opera night. Even the jester wears his finest gown today, donning metres and metres of green fabric drapings. The Crown Prince, however, is nowhere to be seen on the parquet with his feathered walk, the voice, the laughter.  

After the orchestra begins to fiddle, officially starting the ball, and the buffet opens, instead— you see her enter. A silhouette, clad in dark red. 

It is the czarina. 

Yekaterina Romanova, whose smile could melt the snow of the eternal Alps. Her diadem gleams more than any of your theatrical gowns or coronation attire could ever. Even her stride alone commands attention. It is firm. 

The servants of the King are visibly in awe, nodding at her every move and word. Alongside her parents, after a minute or two, you see Yekaterina converse with Queen Therese. About Prussia, you assume. Or Austria. Most likely Austria. 

There is no time for eavesdropping in the first place even if you are seated fairly close. And, quite regularly, yet another Saxon Duchess wants to beckon you into the mass of chatting aristocrats to talk about a private fencing lesson for her youngest. It seems that either your name has been making rounds or your plain brown clothing makes you stand out, ironically so. You decline but one request that comes as a question from behind you. 

“Do I come to delight in your unfair methods today, master?”

There stands the Prince in his dove white robe, complete with an embellished frock. His voice is dripping with a type of flustered, cocky charm that you fail to sort into his usual moods.

“You sure do, disciple.”

You turn to seize him up further, leaving him no doubt that you do so. Hair set in more voluminous curls than normally. A golden edelweiss necklace cascading onto his chest. Heeled shoes making him inches taller. Smiling just enough not to violate the etiquette, you extend your hand toward him, feel his breath. He presses a kiss on its back. Far more chaste than the one on your lips last night before he climbed down the window again.

In the meantime, the bard, slender and clad in beige-golden fabrics, opens his scroll. The crowd stops to converse when he begins to read.

“A duel— The famed Parisian style! Only select observers will remember the infamous scene at Castle Hohenzollern. The King, his majesty, his utmost splendor, proclaims with joy his son, the Swan Prince, as a returnee after the tournament to reclaim the neckerchief!”

Wuthering applause. You raise the chequered piece of fabric in question for all to see, then wind it around the grip of Cygnet just below the guard, several times, then knot it tight. The musicians deliver a small, yet impactful melody. More witty remarks from the jester follow. The King, spotting the neckerchief, instantly reacts with more applause. While the mumbling bard announcer completes his list of titles and responsibilities of the royal family, then honors the imperial guests from Saint Petersburg, all you can do is mouth toward the Prince. 

“Haven’t done a mock combat in two years.”

His eyebrows raise as a reply. Seeing just that, at least two of the servants appear to almost faint in the third row. 

“Means you might have a chance with your supposed,” you add, “well, elegance.”

“I’ll try,” he stiffens his posture. Adjusts the saber. His frock. Flashes a polished, practiced smile.

“The czarina is in the first row. You’re lucky, my Prince. She sees your every move.”

Before he can answer, the bard finishes the litany of the scroll while the Princess steps forward, facing either of you for a brief moment in honesty.

“Thank you for assembling. I, Marie of Bavaria, now permit the commencement of the duel. May the bravest strike, but honor always win. Three, two, one!”

The handle sounds very different in the ceremonial white gloves, tightly fitting either of his hands. He barely trains in those, if ever.

You focus on the saber and keeping your knees bent at the proper angle not to fall for the distraction. Back foot first. An explosive jolt toward him. Low inside. His necklace sways left to right with the first exchange of lunges.

A twist. A stab. Your blade misses Jimin’s legs by a millimeter.

“Y/N!”

He backs away with a jerk of his knee. You raise your voice loud enough for all the audience to hear.

“What did you expect. Remember your footwork, my Prince.”

The crowd laughs.

“Just you wait. I get the neckerchief.”

He regains his stance, ready anew. You let your saber’s tip drop pointing to his crotch. The elaborate frock.

“I’ll be the one waiting. You’ll take forever with this thing on.”

Embarrassed, albeit amused reactions from the section where the overly decorated czar family sits, accompanied by the prime minister of the House Romanov. 

The Russians do have humor, it seems. 

The King, upbeat as ever, just guffaws right along. 

Another high inside grazes Cygnet way down the Prince’s unstable weapon until both blades part again once he evades. The czarina gasps out loud. You lick your lips. It seems that the servants, on the other hand, have recovered from the Prince’s dangerous eyebrow play. 

His taste on your tongue, however, has not even remotely faded. It still lingers. He could barely leave your chamber. The lesson could have been a lot longer. His hungry eyes still tell you that. You pick up more pace.

The entire ballroom bursts with tension since even the King has stopped commenting the scene. Another attack lets either of your sabers clatter five, six times in a row. Not just his endurance has improved. The balance and footwork, too. His arms are in perfect condition.

“It’s more than hitting your opponent,” he delivers a sharp cut from the right, then ducks and spins to riposte your following feint.

“I thought you gave up on surpassing me.”

Thanks to his lowered stance, you have an easy time bringing the tip right over his head. It audibly cuts through a piece of hair. The Prince’s curl dusts over the parquet in the direction of the czarina who promptly exclaims, horrified. 

That’s how far the humor of the Russians goes. 

He gathers himself. Another clash silences the room even more. Between the series of remises, one could hear a sewing needle drop on the ground. The Prince launches another compelling series of attacks, making you parry and take two steps back into the direction of the buffet. More ohs and ahs in the audience. He’s fast. A quick look at the bard makes you realize that the set slot for your combat is almost over. With a lunge, you make the prince retreat by two steps himself. Either of your blades remain entangled. A prise de fer is only one breath away. A final counter to settle the back and forth. 

But the pompous announcement of the bard interrupts your next riposte already.

“It is a tie!” 

A collective exhale. Particularly the Queen looks confounded. Either of the musicians don’t know what to play.

The King exclaims. “Yes, a tie!”

Mumbles from all corners. You draw back Cygnet and take up the beginning stance, as does the Prince. That gaze he shoots you. All too familiar. You have the same thought.

“If you pardon a suggestion,” you address the royal family. “We will settle the match with a simple cast.”

“A cast of what?” Marie blinks. The Prince nods at you and steps toward the buffet to pick out a red, plump fruit to present to the crowd. Confused faces all around. The Russian prime minister seems to be grumpy for a while now in particular. You decide that doing politics is better than talking about it. 

“Princess Marie,” you continue to speak, “An apple.”

“Indeed?”

You nod toward the imperial Russian family.

“The czarina Romanova will cast it.”

Murmurs and rumbles among the aristocrats, even the orchestra. Jimin looks at you wide-eyed. The King, times as invigorated, discusses with the Queen Therese. You already toss the apple toward the House of Romanov. The czarina’s alert younger sister, nine-year-old Natasha, catches the apple. 

“And you will compete who punctures it?” the Princess asks. Jimin nods.

“We will. Only the fighter who will pierce it wins the duel.”

Countless reactions all over the ballroom echo back and forth now.

“We will give the duelists three minutes to prepare in the adjacent room,” the bard announces. 

Jimin tosses the apple onto the carpet.

“Y/N. I do not want the czarina’s favor!” he says, then strays off into a circle around the room.

“The King says it’s his plan for you. The entire Palace maintains that you like her, too.”

He violently shakes his head.

“I don’t care about his plan! The rumors are false. All they want is to appease the Romanovs. Haven’t I kissed you last night?”

“Then you have to prove your I don’t care. You mentioned how you liked being defeated.”

“If I don’t even try to pierce the apple, the House of Romanov will see it as a personal offense!”

“Tricky, isn’t it.”

You go to pick up the apple from the corner where the Prince has tossed it into. He’s adamant.

“Why did you suggest this?”

“The Queen wants you to propose to Yekaterina today, isn’t that the truth? We’ll have another ball like this in a month and you’re off to Saint Petersburg with a new noble title. Just like your sister goes to Saxony. I have more against that than the czarina herself.”

He tugs at his hair in desperation. 

“Don’t you understand? How many more times do I have to climb up the wall for you to realize it? I want to stay here.”

“Then you have to be clever, my Swan Prince. If you don’t pierce, House Romanov will have bad blood with the Albrecht and Therese. Worse if they see it was a deliberate miss on your side. And, if you do pierce, you have bad blood with me. Just climbing doesn’t show the public who you really want. You have to make a statement, my Prince. I want to see your commitment. We’ve been putting this off for too long.”

Either of you push to raise your sabers the highest, dancing from foot to foot. The apple’s tangent is significantly skewed to the Prince’s direction. The czarina’s expression is a hopeful one when it does come down directly toward his blade. Not a single noise in the ballroom. Just held breaths. The Prince freezes once he realizes where it goes. The Queen exclaims. He closes his eyes. 

Screams belt from each direction of the hall. All mouths agape in the first row. Three servants faint on the spot. You gaze across your shoulder. 

The apple rests in the middle of the parquet. 

Sliced in two perfect halves. 

The cleanest cut you have yet to see.

Voices of bewilderment, the unknown, and explosive cheers alike mix in the surroundings. The bard looks clueless as of what to proclaim. 

You sheathe Cygnet with a twinkle at the Prince.

“Neither of us wins,” you say. “Only piercing counts. However, as you have greatly impressed me tonight with your progress and hard work, my disciple—”

You tie off the neckerchief from the bell guard of your saber and hand it to the Prince, who promptly squeezes it tight at his chest. 

Uproarious applause and whistling. Even the prime minister claps a bit. Both King and Queen fall into each other’s arms. 

“Such chivalry!” Albrecht cries out. One of the bearers of the Bavarian coat of arms has to pass over his flag so the King can wipe his tears with it. Even the jester is speechless.

Uncaring of how her neatly laid-out violet dress creases, the Princess jumps up and down, then rushes to the parquet to inform the bard by whispering in his ear. The man in beige then comes toward you and the Prince, beaming.

“The Princess has determined the fighter of honor. Y/N wins the duel!”

While five buskers entertain the House of Romanov with pantomimes, the orchestra plays an upbeat melody. Couples row up to dance. 

“The czarina has excused herself,” the bard, stopping to read the pairings from his scroll, intonates. “She doesn’t feel too well. It must have been the long journey. But she states that we should not worry.”

Albeit in festive mood, the Queen ends up looking rather concerned at the news. 

“My son doesn’t have a dancing partner?” 

Silence among the royal family. Until small Natasha runs to tug at the Queen’s giant gown from the side. She talks in broken German, pointing at you.

“Isn’t Swan Prince— Y/N boyfriend?”

Therese looks at Jimin. So do you. Natasha keeps on tugging, repeating the words. 

“Boyfriend, boyfriend!”

“He has,” the Prince extends his hand toward you, “a dancing partner. May I?”

“Fiancé, fiancé!” Natasha exclaims.

While you walk off in sync to join the dynamic grid of dancers, the King shrugs, facing his wife. 

“Kids. Isn’t it funny!”

“Oh, well,” Therese gazes after you and the Prince while Natasha runs back to the imperial family gathering on the dancefloor.

“That was quite a statement. So much fun. Marie had the time of her life. I love duels. We’ll grab a cake now with the Prime Minister, come, Therese.”

A few cobs bicker at the fringe of the pond, then glide off into the ripples to attend to their swanlings. You have to sit close together on the park bench to converse freely since the loud servants and music does drown out a lot of words. Natasha plays around the other side of the garden with the Princess, throwing snowballs and chasing a few willing musicians off duty through the arcade. Without the permission of just about anybody, but who doesn’t want to tease the violinists and clarion players with their ridiculous swan hats. Jimin, on top of his white frock, now carries an even larger and longer coat where only his delicate heeled shoes stick out of at the bottom. 

“Don’t your feet hurt?” you wonder, pointing at them.

“Used to it. The curl hurt more.”

You pat his head with content eyes.

“Sorry for cutting it off.”

“Just admit that you wanted to shock the czarina. That was close. I thought you were about to provoke Russia’s armed forces.”

“It’s about fun, not war. I think the Russians enjoy chivalry just as much as your father.”

“If you say so.”

“And, as I said. I don’t have that much against her. She’s more charming than I thought. Yekaterina.”

You point toward the other side of the arcade where the Russian and Saxon nobles admire a lion statue, as presented by the King.

“But you knew. That, me losing would sway her not to propose. The House of Romanov values potent men.”

“That is true,” you pick out snowflakes from his coat and melt them in your gloves. “But I also knew that me losing would not please you, my Prince. I saw how you closed your eyes.”

“I was surprised that the apple didn’t stick on the blade.”

You laugh. 

“It’s a saber, Jimin. Not the foil we practiced the cast game with in the forest. No apple can be pierced with a blade like that. Especially out of thin air. Neither of us could have possibly done it.”

His jaw drops. 

“What! You knew that? It was just a test?”

“Of course. You were the one who wanted to hear about my secret lessons so bad, this was the golden one.”

“This was the lesson?”

“There is a reason I read old books and stay first in line. I also knew that the Prime Minister would enjoy you receiving the neck scarf.”

“Wha— What do you mean?”

“The bard said you fight to retrieve the neckerchief at the beginning. That translates to you winning the combat in the mind of the minister. Romanov mentality.”

“Yes?”

“Even if you did not win— once you retrieved the neckerchief, the minister was fond enough. It was never about impressing the czarina or puncturing the apple, my Prince. That’s not how politics work.”

“You mean, impressing the minister was more effective than trying to make good relations with a marriage?”

You nod.

“It seems that way. I doubt that the czar family will leave with you getting an invitation to Saint Petersburg. They’ve seen us dance. The czarina didn’t want to.”

“I think they should know where my commitment is now.”

“Precisely why you earned the neckerchief back.”

“So do you stop testing me now with your hidden lessons, master?”

“What do you think. You only offered your arm to dance because of Natasha’s help. That wasn’t all by yourself.”

“But it was the statement you wanted! Wasn’t it? I made a really clean cut through the apple, too! You said that I really advanced, Y/N. You’re so hard to satisfy.”

“You did crook more than one finger today, I’m rather pleased with it.”

“Rather? Is it that you want me to climb again?”

The Prince’s eyes dart to the tower at the west wing. All surrounding walls, stairs, and windows look particularly hostile after the recent snow. 

“No, I have another idea. Later, my Prince. We have to accompany the Princess’ departure to Leipzig first. It starts in a few minutes.”

“Later? What are you planning?”

“Put on the garment that you wore when we first met at Hohenzollern. Tonight.”

An owl makes herself comfortable on the branch next to you. For raging weather tossing and turning around the palace like that, she looks rather friendly, almost unfazed. You do want to linger to observe for just a little longer, but the cold is hard to bear this evening. You turn to the masonry, knock. From behind the tracery of the frosted glass, you can hear light steps. No heavy boots on anymore. He’s already settled to sleep. A crimson blur acercates, then, the window creaks open. The Prince inside the now open frame exclaims in utter shock.

“Six stories! Y/N! Are you mad!”

Jimin scrambles to extend either of both gratuitous arms for you to seize by the wrists, pulling you inside the bedroom as fast as his stance in thin slippers allows. You greet him with a mischievous grin.  

“I did assassin jobs for the Queen before you could even do as much as walk.” 

You land, no, tip-toe onto the timber piling. The Prince, furied, builds himself up arms akimbo.

“We’re the same age!”

“I’m mostly kidding. I do own a collection of severed heads. They’re under my bed. If you go by the advice of the chef, the alcohol in the barrel will preserve them for years.”

“Did you hang out with the Russian prime minister after the departure or what? Did you chug too much beer?”

“No. This is late night sword master humor.”

Jimin is already on his way to the bed, sighing out.

“Figured,” he says and crawls back under the heavy, purple-colored duvet. 

The pine branches rustle back and forth when you shut the window— not gentle enough, you note, to leave the owl undisturbed. It flatters off into the night, seeking another spot.

“Why are you angry? You do this thrice a week on the west wing.”

His arms are crossed.

“It’s four stories less and you know when I come. That was dangerous, Y/N.”

“It wasn’t, you know how high I climb when we practice in the forest. Should I just go and sleep alone?”

“You misunderstood,” he says. “I don’t want you hurt. That’s all.”

“Hm. That’s fair, Prince.”

“And I don’t want to fight.”

“Me neither. And I’m already here.” You point at the frock splayed out at the Prince’s elaborate birch-wood wardrobe now. “Is that thing why you showed up pretty late to the ball?”

“The way you didn’t like it makes me think that was in vain.”

“I didn’t like it because it messed with your fencing steps. How long did it take to put all of this on?”

Jimin shrugs.

“One and a half hours. Fitting included.”

“Royals. You astound me every day.”

“I tried my best to look good.”

“You did look good. And you danced well. Can the reckless sword master join in the sheets?”

He already loosens the all-around curtain of his bed from its posts where a thick decorative cord holds them in place, and lays down on his back.

“Put a block in the oven before you do.”

“Very well,” you pull off your shoes. And step towards the fireplace, where Jimin’s favored blade is propped up on a metal stand. Cinder. The one you first saw him fight with. The counterpart of Cygnet. It’s been three years. It shimmers as golden as it always did. With a painted-black guard and grip, and the neckerchief right next to it. 

You select a particularly large chunk of wood and twist it into the half gleaming, half burning ashes. It’s gotta last long tonight. 

Curtains closed. Gloves resting on the nightstand. You glide a hand across his cleavage. Goosebumps. Thumping heartbeat. Pulse between your legs. Scorching fire in the oven. It’s almost unbearable. 

The Prince’s breath goes heavy. And blends into yours soon enough. The deep interplay of your tongues mimics more than just what happened on the tournament field. So slick, so fast, so hungry, and yearning. Never satisfied. But what could. You both waited for so long. Only gazes will only starve. No hand kiss is ever enough. You want to fuck him. So bad.

Depriving yourself of a scent as rich and a mouth as addictive was not a good idea. His hands are busy stroking downward your back while another surge of kisses spills down on him. Lips so runny with spit, you can slurp it off. There’s an overlay of wine and apple when you give yourself a second to taste. The servants were right. What don’t his eyebrows do to you. And what doesn’t it take you to remark it between kisses.

“Nice garment you’re wearing there, splendid Prince.”

He winds in the sheets.

“Thank you.”

Carefully, you retreat from the Prince’s face. His hands stay resting on your back.

“Love seeing it in this spot.”

He smiles.

“Why here, actually? I thought you would catch me in the bath later.”

“This bed is the reason,” you recline on the mattress next to him, arms spread out, one across his stomach. Looking at the vault of the room, you realize how many hours must have gone into crafting it from oak.

Jimin pats the bed frame.

“No barrel underneath that one, can guarantee you that.”

You roll closer to him again, tapping his chin with one finger. There’s still saliva.

“From what you say— Did you want to meet me in the bath?”

“I, uh.”

“You normally don’t go there after balls because it’s too busy. You went there on purpose and thought I would, too, didn’t you.”

Within the halo of the candle on the nightstand, shimmering through the bed curtain, Jimin’s face plunges into a deep red.

Marie has been making fun of you ever since for knowing his habits in every detail. Your excuse was always, well, the Prince’s personal bodyguard needs to know the nitty-gritty, doesn’t she, it’s not a useless feat.

“See,” you twirl one finger into his curls. “I have a few secret lessons. No need to be ashamed when you use one of yours. You have to work on effectiveness, however. Of course I show up here instead. I always play unfair.”

“The poor czarina realized that very early,” he sighs out. Your finger drops from his chin.

“I thought— you weren’t fond of her?”

Both his arms drop off your back. The Prince gesticulates. But he’s hesitant. 

“Our bard. See... He informed me that she took the carriage to Moscow even before my sister departed to Saxony. Hours before, in fact.”

You fall silent for seconds. The spark of the fire is the only thing audible in the spacious room. 

“I apologize for that,” you begin, equally hesitant. “My manners are not as impeccable as they should be.”

“The King,” he continues, “even volunteered to write a letter to smooth over the situation.”

You’re taken aback. He really did. Nothing of that reached you so far. It’s too much of a surprise. But the Prince looks far too earnest for it to be untrue.

“Was she really so aggrieved? No wonder you’re in such a bad mood as well.”

“Disappointed, I think. Yekaterina wanted to see me win. Can’t blame her.”

It makes you almost speechless. 

“I understand that her hopes were high. But why do you care?” 

“Well...”

“‘Can’t blame her’? What does that mean? When we prepared to duel, all you were about, oh, I don’t want her favor!”

He fumbles at the golden trimming on his sleeve.

“What I realized was, we could have been more polite with her. I mean, regardless of me not wanting the marriage. Just because I fancy you doesn’t mean I have to hate her.”

You cock your head, incredulous.

“A change of mind? So fast? And just when she went back to Moscow? Think you’re missing out there, all of a sudden.”

“A change of mind, maybe. After you made me a fool with the apple.”

“Take it as payback for your hubris during the tournament,” you poke your finger at his chest instead. The spot where you had planted the tip of your foil on the mesh shirt.

“I did nothing wrong. You’re mean to me, Y/N!”

“Sure. After I learn you talked to the King to win Yekaterina’s benevolence again. Just when we kiss. You contradict yourself, my innocent eyebrow Prince.”

“The marriage to House Romanov,” he sits up, “is off the list. Okay?”

“Oh, truly.”

“There will be no mention of me desiring a union in the letter. It’s just to avoid her resentment and being nice. That’s all. It’s not even me writing the letter. It’s just politics. You should know that the best.”

“I see,” you pat his arm. “You did go to the bath to anticipate me. And you put on the Hohenzollern gown.”

“Yes, I mean it. I am committed. I want to be your husband. In case you could not tell. And what do you bring to the equation? Falling off the east wing tower just to give me a heart attack in my slippers?”

Now, you sit up, too. The candlelight casts a long shadow of your silhouette, blurred through the fabric of the curtain, against the wall where the oven stands.

“You know very well that I have planned the entire duel. So I could win. So I could give you the neckerchief regardless. So I could dance with you. So we could stay here. So I could be your wife. All while still not pissing off the Russians. I wanted to have you. There was no other reason I climbed the tower. And suggested to duel at the ball in the first place.”

He takes a moment to reply. When he does, his voice is much more high-pitched.

“The Hohenzollern introduction as well? What the bard read out before we started?”

You exhale. 

“Of course. I instructed him to pick up on where we began. There is nothing more persuading to ball crowds than a romantic story. With the swans around and all.”

He crosses his arms once more. 

“Isn’t that— manipulation?”

“If manipulation means preventing you from sitting around in Lower Siberia for the next twenty-five years? It sure is. I know it had to be calculating. Because you didn’t do anything at all except keep your eyes closed.”

“Y/N, I could have easily persuaded mom on my own. Therese didn’t... force me to propose to the czarina.“

“The Consort would have followed the protocol rule by rule. You would be in the carriage with Yekaterina at this very moment. Probably sticking your cock in her because the House of Romanov needs an heir.”

Jimin’s eyes flare up, glistening like the fire.

“What! That’s what you think I’d do?”

“They probably don’t even have to compel you to drop your pants for a smile and diadem like that.”

“No?!”

“I’m not stupid. You know very well why you thought meeting me at the bath was a good idea. Less clothes. A perverted Prince is what you are.”

“Stop accusing me of these things! What does that have to do with Yekaterina? The bath is a relaxing place after a hard day. I thought you liked going there. What’s wrong with you? I’m here. With you, now! What do you want? A thank you for being so matronizing and possessive? Your jealousy sucks. Didn’t you say you found her charming a minute ago?”

“Look who’s talking. The guy who didn’t move the saber one inch when the apple was coming down on it. Commitment. Yeah, right.”

Gritting your teeth is not enough to subdue the resentment. The room, even if the heat has risen to the vault and now distributes in all corners, feels so much colder. Jimin is on the verge of tears.

“I’m sick and tired of these games. I thought you said I passed the test!”

“More because of the clean-cut than anything. Though that was not even deliberate, your eyes were shut. You would have allowed to apple to be pierced it if it had been a foil.”

“So what? You said it was dangerous to evade the apple not to provoke the minister! It was a lose-lose situation, and it happened so fast! What was I supposed to do? You didn’t tell me that piercing it was impossible anyways! ”

“You did absolutely nothing against preventing the marriage. If it is so easy to persuade the Queen, why haven’t you done it earlier? The whole Russian ruling class got invited for today!” 

“That’s not true,” he cries, “I told you I didn’t want to go to Russia!”

“Of course you think I’m matronizing. You don’t really want me that much at all. You’re opportunistic. Aren’t you? No wonder you babble all of this, oh, I don’t want to quarrel, Y/N! You’ve got things to hide. That’s why the czarina gets a letter. Someone realized his chances to ‘climb’ are still better in Saint Petersburg than here. The fucking Romanovs. With their shiny clothes and attitude.”

And you, although it hurts to admit Jimin was very right, have climbed to heights not meant for you yourself.

“Why are you so distrusting, I don’t even know her! I come to the west wing three times a week, my promises were never empty!”

“Given how fast you change your mind, I doubt that as of recently. No kiss can prove that you take me seriously as a wife.”

“I didn’t change my mind!”

“Even then, why were the Palace rumors about you liking her so persistent since over half a year?”

“There is no grain of truth. The jesters started it to annoy me at the May festival. The Queen thought it was true and told everyone because she wanted me to marry Yekaterina so desperately. She was hell-bent. She believed everything without questioning it. I couldn’t do anything against the rumors.”

“Guess why I did all this shebang at the duel,” you roll your eyes. “I told you the Queen would have followed through and demanded the proposal with Yekaterina. You didn’t stand a chance. Indeed you should be grateful. I saved us from separating for literal decades. Instead, you peacock around before the Russians! What am I supposed to think?”

His sobbing voice raises even more. 

“But you should respect I speak for myself! Looks like your first in line thing made you arrogant! Calling me a pervert, treating me like a liar, a cheater, what’s next?”

“All you would have spoken is precisely not canceling the betrothal with Russia. I did all of this in vain. I thought you wanted me back. I thought we could revive what happened at Hohenzollern. Don’t say I didn’t try hard to bring us together.”

You slip over the edge of the bed, tying your shoes back into place. Fast. The Prince’s tone, through all tears, becomes dark and glowering behind your back.

“God— I swear, Y/N. If you climb back down there...”

Not just empty promises, but empty threats, too. It makes the decision even more set. You fasten your belt, button up your coat, pull your gloves over either wrist.

“... then I will go right to the next best Dutchess and train her son in Württemberg or Hesse where I don’t have to see your face. I have plenty of offers and they are all more trustworthy than you. Received at least ten today. Don’t get jealous, Swan Prince.”

He shoves the duvet aside, follows you barefoot. 

“Why do you do this to me! Why!”

You crank open the window regardless of how loud the frame joint squeaks, mount the frame, and already attach your fingers to the masonry.

“Fire’s the only thing keeping you warm tonight.”

“Y/N!”

“Two people playing unfair with each other is never a good sign. I taught you all I could. That’s all.”

Seemingly having found another snug place, the owl hoots in the afar valley. All wind swallows the yells from the tower. Jimin’s head, protruding from the window, gets smaller and smaller above you. And eventually, fades into the dark.

Anna already shifts to hurry back to the throne room again. 

“Hermann Meier!” she suspires. “Don’t like this guy. He’s from the mill.”

The monger’s praise for his lackluster cart assortment is tremendously loud, resounding all over the courtyard. Several maidens gather their baskets and weaving looms and head inside at the constant repetitions. 

“The most delicious crops of the Hercynian lands! Tread closer, tread closer! Plenty of offers! Crops of the Hercynian lands! Crops! Delicious fruit! Who wants to bargain? Exciting bargains! Only today.”

You observe, tracing your eyes across the man with the large yellow wayfarer hat, still— then raise your hand.

“Here!”

Anna is incredulous. 

“Milady Y/N, where are you headed?”

“To the merchant.” 

You sort two arrows into the quiver rested before you, then shoulder the cord across your back. Even now, it’s pretty lightweight. A custom piece. 

You hand Anna the bow and march off the training ground past the five straw targets, leaving her expression even more flabbergasted. The merchant raises a pair of fruit from his barrow as soon as you steer into his direction. 

“Archer, are you interested in a bargain for these pears and plums? Only five mark today!”

You stop short at his cart, seizing him up further. 

“I will give you a hundred.”

Meier’s eyes, just as, if not more yellow than his hat, turn bulbous.

“What! A hundred mark!”

You point towards his hip. 

It’s been two and a half years since you didn’t see it. 

“For this blade you carry, merchant. A hundred and twenty when you tell me where it is from.”

The merchant guides it out of its sheath. The blade is golden, the grip ashen black. Your heart goes two times faster. 

“I bought it in the guild’s shop on the market square, yesterday. From a hunky guy named Strengberg. No, Steinburg. That was the name.”

All you do is hum. Steinburg. Although you do look around the local market every Friday, it is an unfamiliar epithet to you. Maybe it’s because you didn’t touch a foil for five months unless it came to training, and avoided the smiths downtown for that matter. 

“A hundred and thirty for that name.”

The merchant shakes his head.

“This is a good sword. Didn’t plan to sell it that fast after I found a gem like that.”

“With the 130 mark, you can easily go to Steinburg and get an even better one.”

Another negation. Meier ruffles at his frizzy hair. 

“Let’s say Steinburg’s dealings are a bit more, well. Of the sleazy kind. He won’t be there next Friday. It was a one-time opportunity. I can’t say more.”

You tap from one foot to the other. Anna, in the corner of your eye, seems to recognize the sword that Meier holds as well. She looks back and forth from you, the barrow, Meier, and the other maidens. You stay grim. 

“I want this sword. 150 mark. It’s an ideal bargain.”

Meier huffs out a belly laugh that makes his vest, filled with all kinds of vending paraphernalia, jingle.

“You’re a simple archer at Altfried Castle. Dressed in brown rags! Why would you want and deserve a blade as outstanding as this? I would sell it to your Duke for his birthday! But you?”

The crows at the training ground gather behind you, seemingly picking up on the nervous atmosphere in the courtyard. 

“I have ten years of experience with swords. I have trained the Hohenzollern brigade, and the royal family of Bavaria. 200 mark.”

“Bavaria? The royal family? Ridiculous. And where does a person like you have all that money from, huh?”

“The 200 mark are not a problem. But if you only sell swords to those who deserve it, then, we will fight.”

Meier’s cheeks turn red from cackling. He looks up and down your body.  

“With your hands? Your arrows? Those toothpicks! You don’t even carry a single knife either! So how could you wield a blade of this caliber! No honorable sword master walks around without their best piece!”

The memory would be too heavy on your belt. But seeing the golden blade, far from a place it should and would never leave without some things being very, very wrong—

“Anna!”

“Yes, Milady Y/N?”

“Retrieve Cygnet from my armory in the basement.”

“But, you said you’ll never use it again!”

Anna catches the key that you toss into her direction.

A dozen maidens clap and cheer from the windows of Altfried Castle. The wayfarer hat rolls toward the muddy pig through of the courtyard. It has a slash in its brim.

Pinned to the ground of the practice field under the tip of Cygnet, the merchant clamors.

“Who, who are you!”

“Y/N. First in line of all sword masters from East Prussia to the Rhine,” you sheath the blade. “And current teacher to the Duke.”

“The Duke Leopold!”

“The Duke himself. I advise him. He has good aim with pistols, Meier.”

“I can, I can imagine!”

You point towards the glistening object that the last high outside propelled toward the end of the training spot, thankfully, stuck in one of the straw men. 

It is Cinder that you see. 

The due cleaning already gives you a horror vision. Not because of the straws, but the man’s filthy fingers and lack of elegance that always was without the doubt the hardest to scrub off a weapon that was so eager to carry memory. 

One day more and Meier would have soiled it with bends, alcohol stains, or stench, and who knows what. 

“Do you believe I am worthy of the golden blade.”

You press down your saber on his jingling vest ever so lightly.

“Of course, of course you are, master!”

More cheers from the maidens at the weaving looms. The crows disperse, agile. 

You turn toward Anna at the fringe of the training grounds, who’s in a patient mood, as always. Altfried Castle has turned the heavy bags under her eyes into a sweet nothingness. 

“Anna! You can retrieve the sword from there. But use a cloth to touch it, please.”

“Yes, Milady. I think it is still in proper condition.”

The merchant tugs at the sleeve of your linen garment several times to regain your attention, voice even more pleading. 

“Please, sword master, what else can I do for you, is there any fruit you want, anything else?”

A digit indicating toward his barrow, you speak with intent. 

“One apple. And another piece of information, should you have it.”

“Yes! Pick any apple you like,” he proclaims, “And I am sure to remember what else you want to know!”

“Of course you do, Meier.”

After helping the monger onto his wobbling feet and picking out the most glossy among the dented and discolored array of fruit, you pull a bag of money out of the quiver’s side pocket.

210 mark land in the wayfarer hat when you pick it up and hand it to him. Out of the last bit of courtesy. The very last bit. But one question doesn’t want to leave your mind.

“I want to know where Steinburg is headed.”

“That’s nothing I can te—”

You point at his forehead, apple save in the other hand.

“Remember how good the Duke’s aim is. If I suggest you as a moving practice target, he won’t say no. You’ve been pestering the maidens for years and selling foul crops to the price of actual cattle. Whatever you’re doing at the mill and the market can’t be clean business. Not to mention you ridiculed the royal family.”

“Steinburg. He’s on his way to, to, uh.”

You stuff the apple into the quiver.

“Pray tell, Meier. I can’t wait forever.”

“The Black Forest. North. Somewhere around there. I saw him depart towards the creak’s end this morning with a band of three robbers.”

a/n: the second part is called Cinder (linked in mlist). | paintings by rubens.

Do not repost, modify, or translate my works. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #244

“you could stand me up at the gates of hell, but i won’t back down.”

What accent do you find most difficult to understand? Heavy southern. Has your music taste changed over the years? Not very. I do like more indie stuff now than I used to, though. What movie never fails to make you cry? The Notebook. What movies do you think need a sequel? Hm... I'm sure there's plenty, but they're evading me for now. Let's see... yeah idk. Do you have to see it to believe it? I mean it depends; see what exactly? But in general, yeah. I believe in spirits, maybe even auras, stuff like that. What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Food. Do you like 3D movies? Yeah, they're cool. Have you ever had breakfast in bed? Not the "my partner brought me food and it's romantic" type of way; I've just eaten breakfast food in bed. Have you ever practiced kissing on a stuffed animal? No, that's always been. p wild to me. Do you still talk to your childhood friends? A few. True/False: You live with your parents. Just one. At the dinner table do you always sit in the same chair? We rarely eat at the table, but generally, yes. Is your signature legible? I think so. Have you met any bands/singers? No. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. Do you know someone that looks better as they age? *shrugs* Do you know the order of the colors of the rainbow? Yes. Do you sometimes wish you were the opposite gender? No. Have you ever kissed a picture? of who? I don’t think so. Did/do you distract your teachers to get them to tell you stories? I didn't really speak in class unless I was pretty sure I had the answer to a question or had a serious question myself. Who makes you feel like you’re worth something? My mom, more than anyone. Do you remember a lot of your childhood? Yeah. I have a crazy vivid long-term memory. How many pets is too many? Depends on available space as well as what you can afford to care for sufficiently. Do you stare at dead people in a movie to see if you can catch them moving? lol no. Does your hand fit inside a Pringles container? Probably. I can curl my thumb really inward to make space. Do you know who your maid of honor/best man will be? Sara, unless I end up marrying her lmao. In that case, it'd be Mom. If you had the opportunity to be famous, would you take it? I don't like the term "famous" for me personally, but rather "well-known" for a photographer. What is your favorite healthy snack? Strawberries, I guess? What is the best song by your favorite artist/band? I HAVE TO???????? PICK???????????? Oh jeez. At least right now, "Time" is one that I hold incredibly close to my heart and usually brings me to tears because it reminds me of Teddy. It's just a beautiful song. I'd say overall, probably "Trap Door." It's cool as hell. How many times did your phone ring today? None. What theme do you want for your wedding? Halloween/fall-ish. How much do you spend a month on make-up? Nothing. Do you have any of your future children’s names picked out? I don't want kids, but if I did, Alessandra Quinn is the girl and my spouse cannot argue, and I'd love Damien Vance or Damien Victor for a boy. What was your favorite childhood meal? Spaghetti. Would you ever date someone over the internet? I don't *think* I'd do it again, no, unless it was Sara and we were actually making arrangements to move in together ASAP. Do you find it hard to believe that a dinosaur was once right where you are? No, but rather cool as hell. What is your favorite part of the movie “The Lion King”? The intro (up to where the title pops up, not just NAAAAAAAAAAAAASEBENYAAAAAAAAAAA). It's just... magical. I, without fail, get goosebumps all over and smile. Do you have any bug bites atm? No. Do you knock before entering someone’s room? Yeah. What was the last thing you shot in the garbage? Like, shot as a basketball? Probably just paper or something. Would you freak out if you saw a spider crawling on you right now? Fuck yes I would. Who did you last call beautiful? Venus, my snake. Have you ever used a tanning bed? Nooooooo. Do you think people will eventually stop believing in God? Oh, absolutely not. The belief in some sort of higher power has evolved since the dawn of civilization, so why would it stop? Do you and your best friend have the same favorite band? No. Do you prefer watching movies or playing video games? Vidya games. Have you ever been go-cart racing? Ha ha yeah, fun. Up in NY with my cousins. How many jobs have you had in your life? Three. Does your shower have a door or curtains? Two curtains. Do you have any posters of your favorite band on your walls? Metallica and Manson, yeah. Are you good at remembering names? NOOOOOOOO. Have you been outside today? No. Have you ever walked the opposite direction on an escalator? No. When making pancakes, do you try to make cool shapes/pictures? No. Do you use your hand when you’re explaining something? Oh yeah. Do you play a lot of video games? Not anymore, really. I would, but I can't afford a new console. I want a PS4 super badly (hell, even a PS3) to play new games, especially ones I haven't seen let's plays of. You can only replay a game so many times before you get bored, y'know? The only game I play regularly is WoW and that's because it has like... endless content to do. Who is your favorite Disney princess? Probably Jasmine. What word do you hate that people use often? (yolo, derp..) None off the top of my head. I just don't care. When was the last time you had hiccups? Idr. Have you ever thrown up from drinking too much alcohol? No. Do you ever buy the same piece of clothing, just in different colors? No. What is the last movie you saw in a theater? The live action The Lion King, I think. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't think I even have one... I know Mom was talking about opening me up one, but like, why. I don't make an income. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Oh sure. Do you attend church regularly? I never go. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? Good. Shit. They have THE best chocolate milkshakes. Do you tend to worry a lot? Only always! How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Idr. Do you remember your first time on the internet? Not really, no. Which website do you email from? Hotmail. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Yeah. Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? Idk. Have you ever had the flu? No, knock on wood. What about strep throat? Yeah. Would you ever consider going on a cruise? No. What is your biggest insecurity? My more "different" interests/hobbies. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never. Have you ever had a terrible hangover? No. Do you ever get migraines? Rarely. Do you know how to garden? I mean, I could put it together... What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? A phone charger. Do people consider you to be a funny person? I don't know. Do you like children? No. If not, why is this? I'm just... uncomfortable and feel like I'm playing with slime against my will or some shit any time I'm in their presence. I don't like how they stare, I don't like how rude they can be, I hate how demanding they are of attention (YES, I am aware that is healthy behavior for the baby of a social species, I just can't provide it), they ask too many questions... I have a lot of reasons I don't like them. Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? No. What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? YouTube, I guess? Does the future excite you or scare you? Both. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don't want to think on this. How many huge secrets do you have? I don't know about *huge* secrets... How many people know these secrets? ^ How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Do you ever floss? Not really, oops. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? Two. Ever considered suicide? Yes. If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No. Do you like texting or calling people more? TEXTING. Don't call me omg. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yeah. When did you last babysit, if ever? I actually did last week in an emergency situation with my nephew. I was the one and only person capable due to everyone being sick. I was scared as shit and very anxious the whole time, but I did it. Ultimately, it was a good bonding experience for us. Do you have any younger siblings? Yes, one sister. Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I'm sure I've thought of myself like that before. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Not to remain blonde, no, but I did that on the occasion I dyed it purple, I think. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Well of course. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, it doesn't appeal to me. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I don't know or care. Where is your favorite place to travel? Mountainous and wooded areas. What is your goal for the next few months? Do well in school, get back into driving, maybe get a job I can actually handle. Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? German, yeah. And I think Spanish. Have you ever played on a sports team before? Yeah. If you have, what was that sport and when? All of these are from when I was a young kid. T-ball/softball, basketball, cheerleading, soccer... I think that's it? Oh wait, dance for many years as a pre-teen/teen. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you think you’re a good singer? Not really. Do you think you have a good sense of style? I don't care. What matters is I myself like what I wear. Do you enjoy reading often? No... but I want to get back into it. Have you ever had a deadly illness? No, thank goodness. Ever had food-poisoning before? No. Where did you last eat dinner at? Like, eat out? I think it was a local Mexican restaurant with Mom and the sis. Have you ever shot a gun before? No. Where do you apply cologne or perfume? My neck and just generally around my torso. I don't really pay attention to exactly where. What completely and totally disgusts you and turns you off? Disrespect is what came to mind first this instance. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? I'unno. Do you take surveys hoping someone will see your answers or just ‘because’? Just because. It's a time-killer and a way for me to just. Talk. Not at anyone, just to get thoughts out of my head. It's therapeutic to me. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate or vanilla, depending on my mood. What diet could you never do? "Raw." <<<< Yeah. Do you have a curfew? No, not that I ever leave the house. Do you actually like your job? N/A What is the last song you sang? I think it was "Ordinary Man" by Ozzy feat. Elton John. GOD I am ready for this album. Describe the best kiss you’ve ever experienced: Bro idk I've had a lot of those and I've never like ranked them in my head. Think to the last time someone said thank you to you, what had you done to earn it? I commented on my friend's picture that she was fUCKING BEAUTIFUL. Grab your cellular. When did you last receive a text message? Like three hours ago. Is there anything that’s worrying you at the moment? Just a lot. Honestly, do you wish there was someone still in your life who used to be but for whatever reason isn’t anymore? I mean yeah, there' s multiple people like that. Who in your household do you not have a good relationship with? My sister's dog. Who in your life are you scared to lose more than anything? Mom.

[saltandburnsis]

The Storm

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam, Castiel (mentioned,) Crowley (mentioned)

Age: Any

Warnings: None Word Count: 1487 Summary: After a tornado warning leaves them stranded in the bunker, the youngest Winchester finds a way to get her brothers to take hold of the opportunity and relax. A/N: This takes place a couple months after they’ve found the bunker. Prompt from SPN Angst Bingo.

Your room’s dim lighting was suddenly replaced with flashing red as a blaring alarm you’d never heard began to echo through the halls of the bunker. You jumped out of bed and ran down to the study. Your brothers were already there and, by the stack of books on one side of the table, it looked like Sam had been there awhile.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack?” You asked once you were close enough to be heard over the alarm. Sam shook his head.

“No, no. This is different. I don’t-” He was cut off by another, shriller alarm coming from each of your phones’ speakers. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and looked down at the notification on the screen.

Emergency Alert

Tornado Warning in this area. Take shelter. Check local media. -NWS

“A tornado. Great,” Dean scoffed. “Sam, see if you can find a way to shut this alarm off. Y/N, check our supply stock in case we’re in it for the long haul. I’ll go check the news.”

The three of you parted ways at the eldest’s instructions, off to complete your given tasks. You went straight into the kitchen, trying to remember the last time any of you had been on a supply run. As long as you had a decent amount of basics—water, bread, peanut butter, beer—you’d be fine for a while. As you were halfway through making note of the contents of the pantry and were finished with the fridge, the lights in the room took on their normal hue and the alarm cut out. Thank God for Sam. He walked into the kitchen a few minutes later and took a seat at the table. Dean followed suit shortly after.

“How are we doing?” He asked, taking a seat across from Sam.

“We’re not stocked by any means, but we’ll make it about three or four days if we’re stuck long.” You sat down beside Sam.

“Generator is up and ready for use if we lose power,” Sam added.

“Good, good. ‘Cause we’re stuck here for at least 24 hours. Tornadoes touching down left and right,” Dean told the two of you.

“Should we be worried?” You asked, looking between the two of them.

“No. If anything, we can use it as an excuse to take a break from everything. Rest,” Sam replied, the relief clear in his voice. You had to admit, there was an appeal to relaxing. Hunts had been taking more and more out of you. It would be nice to rest. Still—

“What if something happens, though?” You spoke up again.

“We’re fine down here. As long as we all avoid a trip to Munchkinland, we’ll count this as a win,” Dean replied, standing from his seat. He walked over to the fridge. “How we doing on beer?”

“Enough to hold us over,” you answered,

While Dean began to raid the fridge, his comment got you thinking. Who would be who in the Winchester Wizard of Oz? Cas might be the scarecrow; between his lack of knowledge in certain crucial areas—ie., movie trivia—and the fact that it definitely wouldn’t be one of your brother’s in need of a brain, you figured that would be the best fit. Crowley could be the Tin Man, you figured. Mainly because you couldn’t call either of your brothers heartless, but also because being King of Hell brought with it certain connotations—one big one being “heartless.”

You saw yourself as most like the Cowardly Lion: in need of some courage. Not that you weren’t brave, of course. You just felt as though you could use a bit more courage. Your brothers certainly didn’t, most recently evidenced by their calm demeanors during this event. While you focused on what could potentially go wrong, they were focused on what they could control now: checking food supplies, getting the alarm off, checking the news. All actions that helped you in surviving the present and plan for the future. You, on the other hand, panicked at the possibility that something could possibly happen to someone, ignoring the fact that everyone was fine. Definitely the Cowardly Lion. Your brothers both had a connection to Dorothy, of course—you all did: a desire to get out of the world you were thrown into and go to a normal life, go home.

You finally settled on Dean as the Wizard, based on all the inventions he’d come up with that made hunting easier and how often he reminded all of you that you didn’t need someone to give you what you needed. Cas knew more about the universe than all three of you could ever hope to. Crowley had his moments where he showed how big his heart could be, when he went against his nature. You had courage enough to face the supernatural constantly. And you were all home whenever the three of you together. Your home wasn’t four walls and a roof. It was your family.

That left Sam as Dorothy, and the idea of your older brother in a blue-checkered dress with red ruby slippers and his hair in braided pigtails sent you into a fit of laughter. Sam and Dean looked at each other quizzically, shrugged, then looked to you.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Sam asked. Five minutes in, and you were already going stir crazy.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Everything’s great,” you replied. With another shrug, your brothers dropped the subject.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I’m going to use this time to recalibrate the weapons.” Dean took a swig of his beer and left the room.

“I’m going to try to finish that book I was reading. I’ll be in my room,” Sam stated, standing from the table. “Let me know if there are any updates?” You nodded, and he departed the room. You pursed your lips. Sure there were plenty of things you could catch up on during this weather-mandated time out from your day job, but you didn’t want to. As far as you were concerned, this was an opportunity to have some time with your brothers without that something big looming over your heads. This was your chance to just relax together.

Determined to see your vision through, you made your way into the living area. You surveyed the area and sighed. This was going to be a lot of work.

Two hours later

You began to put the finishing touches on the inside of the fort, finding the perfect pillow placement to suit everyone. It was silent in the space, allowing you to keep your project a secret while you worked. The silence also meant that you were easily able to hear the sound of two pairs of feet thudding down the hallway, quickly approaching your location. You quickly popped up from inside the fort and prepared for your brothers’ arrival.

As they entered the room, both men stopped short, looks of confusion quickly spreading across their faces.

“Y/N? What’s all this?” Sam questioned.

“We don’t get breaks like this often, so I thought we should take advantage of it. We can research and calibrate the weapons any time, but when do we get the chance to just sit down and hang out together outside of the car without the weight of the world on our shoulders? I’ve got a bunch of movies queued up, something for everyone, and I found a bunch of popcorn when I was checking the rations, so...movie night?” Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment then turned and went into the kitchen. You pursed your lips and looked at the fort, believing all your hard work had gone to waste. However, a few minutes later, the smell of popcorn preceded your brothers’ arrival. Sam led Dean in, the former carrying a large bowl of popcorn and the latter an armful of drinks.

“What’s up first?” Dean asked as they entered the room and he made his way to your fort. You smiled and went to the TV, grabbing some old VHS’s the three of you kept around since childhood.

“I’ve got Lord of the Rings, Godzilla v. Mothra, and Jaws, but there’s more in the cabinet,” you replied. After much deliberation (and a decent amount of popcorn thrown around,) the three of you decided on Godzilla v. Mothra first. You settled into a spot underneath one of the warmer blankets, grabbed a drink and a handful of popcorn, and relaxed.

The storm ended only a few hours after it began, but the three of you were none the wiser as you continued on with your movie night, hidden away from the rest of the world. One by one, you fell asleep beside each other, the ominous piano chords of Jaws lulling you to sleep. The next morning you’d be thrown back into reality, but you were happy remaining in the present, avoiding thoughts about the future. Forever Taglist: @eternal-elir @choosemyname @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @not-astounding @sassy-specter want to be on my tag list? shoot me a message here

[blackberrywidow]

His Legacy [III]

Summary: Tony Stark had never wanted to be a father– had never wanted to risk passing on the Stark’s legacy of absentee fathers and childhood trauma. But looking at his son now, swaddled tightly in his arms, he knew that he was always meant to be his father. Peter was the best thing to ever happen to him, and his would be the only legacy that mattered. (AU in which Tony is Peter’s biological father)

Warnings: Language. Christmas fluff.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Okay, I know this is a Christmas chapter in October, but I needed a way to highlight the Parker family before shit goes down. So consider this your warning--there will be a significant time jump next chapter to help speed up the pace and make this more interesting. I just really wanted to develop Tony as a father before jumping in. So I hope you like it and will bear with me until next Sunday. 

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

(The gif doesn’t really apply, but I thought it was hilarious, so.)

---

“Why—” Mary cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to collect herself. She paced the entryway, Ben and May standing behind her with twin expressions of barely contained amusement, and Tony thought that it was nice that his imminent death was able to bring someoneamusement.

Mary rounded on him again, eyes narrowed and furious as she was finally able to process what she was seeing. “Why is Peter covered in… what is that Tony?!” Ben, who Tony could always rely on to see the humor in any situation, burst out laughing as Tony explained. “It’s flour—completely harmless.”

“Flour?! It’s—it’s wet. And RED!”

“It’s festive,” Tony readily supplied, but quickly backtracked when Mary flared her nostrils the way she did when she was particularly pissed at him.  “Okay,” he amended, gaze darting between the angry mother of his child and her chortling brother. “It’s dyed flour mixed with water. Still completely harmless. We were painting.”

Mary’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at him in disbelief. “Painting?  With dyed flour?”

Tony shrugged, still holding his brightly colored son against his ruined shirt. “Well, Pepper is usually the one who brainstorms baby-safe activities, but she’s on vacation for the Holidays. So, I did some research on the internet and…”

“I think that is such a cute idea,” May interjected, ignoring both her cackling husband and fuming sister-in-law, bypassing them both to gently extricate Peter from Tony’s arms. “It gives him the opportunity to play around and be creative with something that won’t potentially poison him. And best of all—” May held Peter up Lion King-style, making him squeal in delight—“it should wash off pretty easily. So, I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, May walked off with Peter in the direction of the bathroom that she had become familiar with over the past four and a half months.  A tense silence followed in her absence.

“You knew we were coming to pick him up at four, Tony. You were supposed to have him ready,” Mary finally said, looking a little less pissed, but still unhappy as she frowned at him.

Tony nodded, used to her disappointment at this point. “I know, I’m sorry… We just lost track of time. And he was having such a good time—”

“He’s four months old, Tony,” Mary said exasperatedly. “Of course, he loved playing around in goo.”

“It’s not a big deal if we’re a little late, Mary,” Ben interjected, looking at Tony with sympathy as he finally managed to pull himself together. His sister had always been the high-strung one in the family—a genius in her field, no doubt, and a compassionate and caring woman. But she tended to be so focused on where she was going that she forgot to enjoy the things in the present, which is why Ben would always be mystified by the fact that she had cut loose enough to have a child with Tony Stark out of wedlock, but he wasn’t one to judge or ask questions. Besides, he was a big tech nerd, and Tony Stark was pretty cool, so he was inclined to stick up for the poor guy on occasion. “Mom will understand if Tony took a little extra time with Peter—it is Christmas after all.”

Tony tensed at the reminder. It was Christmas—a time when most people decided they cared enough about their families to actually spend time with them. Tony was a little lacking in the family department though. Anyone he considered close enough to even be considered his family were gone: Rhodey was out of the country on military business, Obadiah was vacationing in the Bahamas (like he did every year), Happy was with his family, and Pepper was visiting her family upstate.

The only one he had left was Peter, but it had been decided that he would spend his first Christmas with his mother’s family—Mamma Parker, Ben and May, and Mary, of course. Which would leave Tony alone. Again.

Normally, this wouldn’t bother him. In years past he would take the unsupervised time to indulge in booze and women and general debauchery even more than he usually did. Anything to distract himself from the fact that he was entirely alone in the world.

But he wasn’t alone anymore—he had Peter to look after and love. So spending the Holidays being New York’s most eligible bachelor didn’t quite feel right anymore. He wanted to spend it with his son, the way he had always hoped he could spend his Christmas with hisfather when he was a child. So it really sucked that he couldn’t do that.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have him ready, Mary. I really didn’t mean to hold you up. I’ll work on it.”

This was another thing he was working on—accountability. It had been a big thing on Mary’s list of adult things he needed to figure out if he were going to be involved in Peter’s life. Which she knew, as evidenced by the way her eyes softened ever so slightly.

“Alright, Tony. Please do.”

“So,” Ben drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he alternated his gaze between his sister and Tony as he tried to change the subject. “Have any big Holiday plans Tony?”

Tony liked Ben, he did, but sometimes he asked questions that Tony would rather not answer. “Nothing exciting.”

Mary cocked a brow and snorted, well aware of Tony’s reputation considering her personal experience with him. “Really? No wild parties or clandestine encounters planned?”

“Nah,” Tony said, not really feeling up to putting on a show for her. Besides, Mary could believe that Tony still screwed around if she wanted, but he wouldn’t perpetuate it himself. He didn’t particularly care if Mary respected him as a person, but he knew it would make his life a lot easier in the long run where his son was concerned. “I’ll probably just stay home and watch some old Christmas movies. My family tradition.”

He had meant it as a joke, but he knew that he had let a little too much of his bitterness leak through when Mary’s gaze turned pitying. She didn’t know much about Tony’s past or his relationship with his father, but she knew enough to piece it together.

“But it’s Christmas!” May protested, rounding the corner with a freshly washed and slightly grumpier baby in her arms. “You can’t just stay here alone on Christmas. What about your family?”

You’re taking him with youwas what he wanted to say, but he settled with a half-hearted shrug. “It’s just me, myself, and I I’m afraid. But don’t feel too bad—I hear that I’m verygood company.”

“Why don’t you come with us?”

Tony’s gazed snapped away from May and Peter to land on Mary, surprise clear on his face. “With you? To your mother’s?”

“Well yeah,” Mary said defensively, hands now on her hips as she stared him down. “Why not? Peter should be able to spend his first Christmas with both of his parents, and we shouldn’t let the fact that we’re not together get in the way of that. We’re supposed to be co-parenting, Tony. This is part of it.”

Tony listened to her explanation in disbelief—it wasn’t what she was saying exactly. He knew that co-parenting meant working together despite any differences they had; it was something he had become very conscious of since Peter was born as for the first time since his parents died (even longer than that, if he’s being honest) he had to actively care about what someone else thought of his actions. It was that Mary had offered to let him tag along on the pretense of it being for Peter’s sake.

She wasn’t obligated to bring him to any family functions, and he knew that realistically, his absence wouldn’t impact Peter at all. Today was just like any other to the four-month-old. Mary was doing this because she felt sorry for him. And normally, someone pitying him was enough to send him in the other direction with a flippant smile and derisive comment. But he was desperate enough to give in to it, just this once.

“Okay, sure. Just let me grab my coat.”

---

“Bullshit,” May said, eyes narrowed as she stared Tony down.

Tony cocked a brow, smirking at her. “Are you sure about that May?”

“Yeah, I am,” the brunette said, suddenly confident as she leaned forward with a smirk of her own. “I call bullshit Tony.”

“Dammit,” he sighed, shaking his head and picking up the cards.

“Ha!” May whooped, throwing her hands up with a wide smile. “I knew I’d get you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too cocky.”

May hummed, her self-satisfied smirk unwavering as she placed down a card.

The game continued on for a few more minutes like that, each of them placing down cards but neither one of them calling bullshit. They had been playing this game for about fifteen minutes while Mary, Ben, and Mrs. Parker fawned over Peter in the living room. Mrs. Parker wasn’t the most welcoming of women, and after an awkward dinner and gift exchange, May and Tony came to an unspoken agreement to split off and allow them to have some “family” time.  Never mind that May was definitely family at this point, and Tony was pretty close, all things considered.

He didn’t mind though. Uncomfortable family dinners were still better than sitting alone at home as long as Peter was around. If he were honest, he was surprised that he was willing to put up with any of the family stuff that came with having a kid, let alone the diapers and feeding and all of the other unpleasantness. But it was different now that it was his kid; he didn’t even think about it. If Peter needed something, he did it. Without question.

If his dad could see him now, he’d probably shit himself. Tony just wished that his mom could have had the chance to meet Peter—to see the man that Tony was for his son.

He wasn’t perfect, by any means. He still had his hang-ups and his issues, but he was trying. And that was more than he had done in a long time.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” May asked nonchalantly as she placed down a card, forcing Tony’s attention snapped back to the present.

“Just about Grandma Parker’s wonderful hospitality. Has she always been so… pleasant?”

“You could say that,” May scoffed. “Ben says she’s never been very warm, but it’s gotten worse since their dad died. She’s just… traditional and doesn’t tolerate much else.”

“You mean like me knocking up her daughter without marrying her first?”

“And Ben marrying the daughter of Italian immigrants after knowing her for a month. Yeah. But I call bullshit.”

Tony cocked a brow and smirked, his practiced response whenever someone called bullshit on him in this game—it just turned out this time that May was wrong. “Oh yeah? Are you su—”

“Not about the game, Tony,” May interrupted, leaning in. “About you. I know Mrs. Parker’s backhanded comments don’t get under your skin. But something does.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about May,” Tony said breezily, placing down a card in the hopes that May would pick the game back up.

“Of course not.” May rolled her eyes but followed his lead and playing a card. “It was nice of you to come this evening.”

“Didn’t really do it to be nice. Just wanted to spend some more time with Pete,” Tony answered, though his teeth grit together. The Parkers were annoyingly persistent and observant, all of them.

“I know.” May smiled at him kindly. “You know, when Mary said that you were the father, Ben and I didn’t know what to expect. But it wasn’t this—you actually stepping up and doing it.”

Tony met her eyes briefly before shrugging, unsure of what to say to that. “Thanks. But just showing up doesn’t make me father of the year or anything.”

“No,” May said, looking at him with eyes that seemed to see everything. “But it’s more than a lot of fathers do. It’s a start.”

Tony smiled. “Bullshit.”

May reeled back, her eyebrows raised and expression indignant. “Oh re—”

“The cards, May.” Tony inclined his head to the card she had just placed. “I’m calling bullshit.”

She cracked a smile even as she shook her head and picked up the cards. “Just because you’re right about my cards doesn’t make you right about everything,” she warned with a stern but amused look.

“I know,” Tony said. And he did. Or at least, he was beginning to.

---

“How was your Christmas, Mr. Stark?” Pepper breezed into his office the following Monday.

“Good,” Tony answered glancing up from the blueprints he was working on to smile at his assistant. “The best I’ve had in years.”

“Really?” Pepper asked, raising a slender brow in surprise. “So a night full of questionable activities then?”

“No,” Tony contradicted, leaning back in his chair and throwing his hands wide. “I’m a changed man, Ms. Potts. I’m a familyman now—” Pepper scoffed at this, which Tony chose to ignore—“and I spent the holiday with my son and his mother’s family. Which isn’t the most glamorous of evenings, yes, but have you ever seen a four-month-old try to unwrap presents? The definitionof entertainment. A lot of drool, a lot of tears, but worth it.”

Pepper shook her head but couldn’t hide her smile as she said, “I can imagine. I’m glad you got to spend it with Peter after all.”

Tony nodded, returning his attention to his work. Which is why he was surprised when Pepper continued their conversation. “I think he’s been good for you, you know.” When Tony raised his gaze back up to give her a questioning look. “Peter, I mean. You’re not a new man, of course, but you have changed. A little. And if I may say so, I think it’s been for the better.”

Tony’s mouth had dropped open at some point during Pepper’s explanation, and he snapped it shut with an audible click. It was unlike her to be so outspoken about his personal life; he was honestly surprised she had even noticed.

“Anyway,” she cleared her throat, suddenly looking bashful. “This is your updated schedule for the week. You have a meeting in two hours,” she relayed, handing him a printout of the schedule, as she always did at the beginning of the week.

Tony took it without a word, giving Pepper a strange look all the while.

After another beat of silence, Pepper released the file and stepped back. “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“For now, Ms. Potts,” Tony replied smoothly, giving her his signature smirk as she turned on her heel and strode out of his office.

Pepper was probably right—Peter was good for him. While he admittedly missed the freedom that his old life afforded, he couldn’t deny that the responsibility that came with being a father—a real father—made him feel… well something, which was more than he really felt in a long time.

Part Four

[wlwinry]

Number 1, with our fave, Elizabeth

Porompt: “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.” I promised you vigilante vampire Elizabeth and that, Iris, is what you get! Enjoy!

[or: au where Elizabeth is killed trying to find the Seven Deadly Sins, only to be Turned into a vampire by Gelda; seven years later, Elizabeth is a wandering “vigilante” who kills the worst scum to walk the streets]

She spat out the gore of the torn throat, swallowing the blood that leaked from the ripped-out flesh. The would-be rapist–an asshole who eyewitnesses and victims whispered led innocent women and girls out to the back alleys of the village tavern and took advantage–lay dead at her feet, mutilated beyond recognition, a bleeding hollow left where his throat had been. She ran her tongue across her fangs, clearing them of the bastard’s blood before retracting them once more to the point where they looked ordinary, and she looked human.

Well, as close to human as someone like her could get, anyway. 

A mirthless smile curved her lips as she licked her deceptively delicate hands clean of ruby-red gore, clearing blood from under her fingernails. As soon as she pulled up the hood, she’d be another face in the crowd, another traveler passing in and out. Stay any longer, and people would get suspicious, but leave now and she’d go down in legend yet again as a mysterious protector, the pale wraith who brought judgement upon the cruel and cowardly, who took their lives as payment for their misdeeds, and left them drained of their own lifeblood in various gruesome ways.

The world had their own theories on what she was, who she was–a god, a monster given human form, the illegitimate daughter of the deceased King of Vampires (which was surprisingly close to the mark), and of course, the only accurate one of the bunch: the lost princess of the kingdom of Liones, presumed dead and Turned by a mysterious vampire that escaped the destruction of the captured city of Edinburgh. It was ironic, really, how much that theory got right–and how many people therefore dismissed it as being “too outlandish.” Perhaps truth was stranger than fiction in this case, but it didn’t make it any less funny when she heard about her own exploits in taverns and the truth of her story was said to be simply too strange to be real.

A huff of amusement escaped her as she kicked the fallen body onto its stomach, tugging her hood up over her head as she turned toward the exit of the alley–and froze, shifting subtly into a fighting stance at the sight of a cloaked figure mirroring her own position, face hidden by their own hood.

Then the figure laughed, bringing her delicate hands together to applaud for her. “That was magnificent, darling! You’ve grown so much stronger since last we met.”

Elizabeth relaxed at the familiar voice, smooth as smoke over silk and dangerous bloodstained satin–not dangerous to her, not yet, but every bit as deadly as she herself was. “Well, what can I say? I’m a badass.”

“Oh, yes, I know.” The woman stalked up to her, heels clacking lightly over cobblestones; she would never understand her sire’s fondness of such finery, a fondness actually shared by most of her people. It seemed she hadn’t gotten the memo in that regard, or perhaps it came with being raised a princess, that she found such things almost mundane. She still adored a lovely dress and the aesthetics appealed to her, but when she looked back upon the naive little girl she’d been and the warrior she was now…well, maybe it wasn’t so strange that she wanted to distance herself from the past.

One of those pale hands reached out to her, moon-white skin practically glowing under the faint starlight. She wasn’t foolish enough to refuse it, instead linking her arm with her sire’s, sensing the approval within her at the action as she was led out of the alley and down the street. “So,” Elizabeth started, knowing well the other woman’s fondness for dramatics, “what have I done to warrant the honor of a visit from the Lady Gelda?”

Gelda chuckled, the edge of her blonde braid spilling out from beneath the velvet cloak’s hood as she angled her head toward Elizabeth. “Can’t a sire visit her favorite darkling?”

“Mmm, not really. You told me when I left the clan that I’d be on my own from here on out.” Elizabeth slid her gaze to the flicker of scarlet beneath the hood, mirror to her own–to the eyes that all royal vampires had. She hadn’t exactly expected to go from a human princess to on-par with the current vampire leader (though apparently that was to be expected, Gelda had told her–a newly Turned vampire would most likely be the level just below their sire, or occasionally the same level. Once in a blue moon, a new darkling would rise to a level higher than their sire’s, but Gelda was already at the highest level remaining after the death of Izraf…though sometimes she caught a strange, wary look in Gelda’s eyes, like she didn’t know what Elizabeth was), but it had happened all the same.

Oddly enough, she wouldn’t change a thing.

Gelda clicked her tongue. “While that’s technically true, I figured you deserved a courtesy call about the…new situation developing in Liones.”

Instinctively, Elizabeth tensed up, though she hid her turmoil as well as her sire did, never slowing her pace or letting her faintly-amused mask falter for a second. But Liones…it was her homeland, the place she’d fled in an attempt to save long, long ago. The place where her killer still resided, and probably walked free, and the corruption of the Holy Knights still kept her father captive. She knew bits and pieces of what had happened over the past seven years–the false Grand Masters’ search for her blood, and the hunt for the legendary Seven Deadly Sins, but not much else. She hadn’t set foot in that land since she’d learned of the bounty of her head, but if there was a new development… “Situation, schmituation. Liones is none of my concern anymore.”

Gelda’s smile was a bright slash in the shadows–she knew the game well, had taught Elizabeth precisely how to play. “Oh, but I think you’ll find this one interesting, darling.” Her fingers drummed lightly on her arm–long, and delicate, and yet just as capable of ripping hearts from chests and crushing throats and tearing people in half as Elizabeth’s equally long, delicate musician’s fingers. “Apparently, the Holy Knights of Liones have captured and subdued the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins, Meliodas.”

Elizabeth stopped short at that, her eyes widening. Memories flickered in her mind’s eye, swimming like minnows–too many to count and too fast to catch, green eyes bright smile hurt, so much hurt and grief deep below the surface–before dissipating with a blink. Meliodas–she knew the stories of Meliodas, knew that the Dragon’s Sin of Wrath was a monster in terms of strength, that he had been the one to destroy the once-thriving kingdom of Danafor, knew that someone like him should not possibly have been subdued by the likes of the Holy Knights. “How?” she demanded, unable to stop herself. “How the hell–”

“Those in control of Liones have started meddling with forces they do not understand.” Gelda’s tone was flat, dangerous–as close as she’d ever heard her sire get to viciously, openly angry. “They began experimenting with the Demon Clan–”

“The Demon Clan?”

“Yes, Elizabeth, the Demon Clan–not all of them were sealed away three thousand years ago.” Gelda turned, facing her. For the first time since she’d happened upon her in that alleyway, Elizabeth could see her face clearly, ruby-red eyes piercing her as strands of blonde hair fell in her eyes, more disheveled than she’d ever seen her. “They’ve begun forcing new recruits to take demon blood into their veins, and more and more of them are becoming obedient monsters at the beck-and-call of the highest-ranked Knights. With the Sin of Wrath incarcerated–quite possibly being experimented on or tortured, given his bloodline–and as of now unable to escape, the other Sins will take it as an act of war and converge upon the capital of Liones, only to be faced with a host too powerful, too numerous to conquer.”

Elizabeth blinked, swallowed harshly, feeling her world tilt off its axis. Rage–burning, all-consuming rage was starting to bubble up at the knowledge of what had been done to her kingdom, her people…and deep, nauseating guilt for abandoning them to this. “Why are you telling me this?” she rasped.

Gelda’s gaze was blade-sharp. “Because they are expecting the Sins. They are not expecting a vampire queen with the ability to walk in sunlight. They are not expecting you.” She stepped forward, staring Elizabeth down. “Hendricksen needs to be stopped. The Demon Clan needs to be stopped.”

“I ca–”

“Can’t? Why not?” Gelda swept an arm out, gesturing to the empty streets. “People have gone home safe, happy, unafraid because of you, called your deeds heroic, legendary. I am no hero, Elizabeth–I have a duty to my clan, my people, and besides, my fire is no match for Hendricksen. For you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I won’t make you go–it’s up to you. But like I said, this is a courtesy call–and a warning.”

“A warning?” she repeated, still reeling from everything Gelda had said. More powerful than her–how–Demon Clan–here? Meliodas–Meliodas, I know you, I know–

The stare she got in return was cold. “One kingdom has already fallen. Without you to save it…” She shrugged–and then vanished into the night, as though she’d never been there at all.

Elizabeth stared at the place where she’d been, blinking, considering…and then as the first rays of dawn painted the sky in blood and fire, she turned on her heel, setting on a course toward the past she’d run from so long ago. And despite everything, despite the battle ahead and the poison crawling across the kingdom she’d loved, despite all that was lying on the rugged path before her, a dark, vicious smile curved her lips.

You might be a monster, Hendricksen, but so am I.

And I am your worst nightmare.  

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

85 Questions: Tag Game

I was tagged by @griffin19, thanks so much for keeping me busy and entertained with posts like these! You’re basically a life-saver, ya know!

Last

drink: water

phone call: umm my mom

text message: a group chat with two of my sisters

song you listened to: “If You Could Read my Mind” by Henry Jamison

time you cried: A few hours ago, actually

Ever

dated someone twice: yes

kissed someone and regretted it: no (never kissed anyone)

been cheated on: no

lost someone special: yes

been depressed: yes

gotten drunk and thrown up: no

In The Last Year Have You

made new friends: yes

fallen out of love: yes

laughed until you cried: yes

found out someone was talking about you: yes

met someone who changed you: yes

found out who your friends are: yes

kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: no (see above XD)

General

how many of your Facebook friends do you know irl: i’ve met all but maybe 3 or 4, but I only know a handful of them really well

do you have any pets: nope

do you want to change your name: nah

what did you do for your last birthday: it was the first day of the new term, so I attended classes, and then met my parents for dinner

what time did you wake up today: 8:30, I think? Or 8:15 ish

what were you doing at midnight last night: ....crying myself to sleep, probably

what is something you can’t wait for: Autumn!!!!

what are you listening to right now: “Total Eclipse of the Heart “by Sleeping at Last

have you ever talked to a person named Tom: Does Thomas count?

something that gets on your nerves: When people act like I can’t do certain things because of my age, size, or status as a student.

most visited website: Tumblr haha. Also Pinterest, lately

hair color: Brown

long or short hair: Long

do you have a crush on someone: Yupp

what do you like about yourself: Ummm I like my eyes, my hair, and how passionate I can be about certain things

want any piercings: I’m good haha

blood type: *shrug*

nicknames: Jess, Jessi, Roo, Shark Bait, Hobbit, (any short-person nickname, really), McCall

relationship status: In a relationship (or is that Taken???)

zodiac: Taurus

pronouns: she/her

fave tv shows: Voltron, Boku no Hero Academia, Free!!!, Psych, and there’s probably more haha

tattoos: Nope

right or left handed: Right

ever had surgery: I don’t believe so, no

sport: Dance

vacation: Disneyland!!! (or visiting family in Utah/Texas)

trainers: Ummm idk what that means

fave colors: Blue, green, pink

eating: Umm I like baked potatoes tbh. But  I also love ice cream and steak

drinking: Hot chocolate and chocolate milk haha

I’m about to watch: Nothing? I might browse Youtube before going to bed, though

waiting for: My paycheck, I guess, then I can get a move on with the rest of my life

want: to learn to forgive myself and be happy with who I am

get married: eventually, absolutely

career: novelist (though I kind of want to own a bookstore too)

Which is Better

Hugs or Kisses

Lips or Eyes

Shorter or Taller

Older or Younger

Nice Arms or Stomach Both

Hookup or Relationship

Troublemaker or Hesitant: Hesitant. I think Troublemaker is hot, but not something I actually want in my life, ya know? It’s just fun to fantasize/read about.

Have You Ever

kissed a stranger: no

drunk hard liquor: no

kissed a stranger: no? Lol hasn’t change in the last 2 seconds)

lost glasses: heavens yes

turned someone down: yes

sex on first date: no

broken someone’s heart: yup

had your heart broken: yes

been arrested: no

cried when someone died: yes

fallen for a friend: yes

Do You Believe In

yourself: no

miracles: yes

love at first sight: yes

Santa Clause: yes

kiss on a first date: depends on the people, date, and circumstances I think

angels: yes

Others

best friends name: Makenna and Lune

eye color: Brown

fave movie: Lion King, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, Beauty and the Beast (live action version)

fave actors: Ummm all of the Marvel actors, and Dwayne Johnson XD

Feel free to participate if you want to! Thanks again for tagging me, Griff!

[ginevrafangirl]

Rentals and Romance

Disclaimer: As much I would like to, I can't make Polyjuice and everything still belongs to JK Rowling.

They meet through Remus. He'd been coming to her shop regularly, picking up classics, rom-coms and the occasional action movie. They'd talk. He usually asked for her help in choosing that week's Saturday night movie for him and his mates. She considers him her friend, and hoped he felt the same.

And Remus brings James one day, and she can't help but flirt with the most gorgeous man she had ever set her eyes on. His untamable black hair, warm hazel eyes, and wicked smirk were to die for, but it was the way he treated Remus that warmed her heart. In one conversation with Remus, he had let slip that he had some sort of genetic disorder that made him very weak on some days. James clearly knew and his eyes were always watching his friend out of the corner of his eye in case he needed help.

He flirts back, flashing her crooked smiles and talking with his hands. He makes her laugh, often. Their conversation started with movies, but soon drifts towards latest celebrity gossip (they still weren't over the Brangelina split) and debated about pop-culture (Adele or Ariana Grande? Definitely Adele), while Remus tries to choose a movie. He asks her for advice, as usual, and she recommends the classic 'The Lion King'. He readily agrees with her choice and a transaction later, they were leaving. As she moves to say goodbye to the man with the great hair (James, Remus had said), another customer enters and they slip out.

She is sad that she didn't say goodbye to the charmer. He is the most funny and laid-back man she's ever met. Shrugging it off and heading toward the back of the shop, she hears the chime of the opening door. He is back.

"'Was halfway home till I realized I didn't get your name."

She can't stop herself from smiling, "Lily."

He grins in that adorable way and holds out his large hand. "James Potter. Pleasure to meet you."

She takes it and shakes it firmly. "Pleasure's all mine," and it truly is.

With another heart melting grin, he leaves the shop. She's smiling. What a smooth move.

The next time she sees him is a week later, when he returns with Remus to pick a movie. They chat again, this day about the recent news around town that the local crime gang was getting more notorious. The news upsets her as she knows her former best friend works for the group. She doesn't mention it to James, though, and the talk moves to lighter topics. He leaves again, with Remus carrying 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'. James bursts out laughing at the title, claiming Remus only picked it because of his obsession with chocolate. She defends Remus, asking him what he is addicted to so she can find him a perfect movie.

He only winks and says, "Movies."

She laughs and debates a while before handing him 'Citizen Kane'. He makes a face, proclaiming it to be a boring and pretentious movie. Rolling her eyes, she gives him 'La La Land' instead, the movie that had made a splash at the latest Oscars. His eyes light up with delight, "I didn't know this was already out on DVD! Thanks!"

She shakes her head after he's left. 20-year-olds should not behave like five year olds. But a small part of her admits that James was adorable when he acted younger than his age.

The first time he comes without Remus is a month and a half after their first meeting. She smiles at him and asks for his friend. His expression darkens, "He's not very well today."

Feeling a wave of sympathy for him, she lets out a small, "Oh." How can a simple word sound so wrong? "Will he be alright?" Much better.

He smiles, "As soon as he watches a movie."

"Well, if he needs something to cheer him up, I would suggest 'Forrest Gump'."

"Excellent choice."

She blushes and turns to pick the DVD case out of a shelf behind her she reserved for her favorite movies.

"Thanks."

"Tell Remus I said ‘hi’ and that I hope he feels better soon.”

"I will."

And so ends the unusually short visit. Lily's heart goes out to poor Remus, and wishes she can do more than hand James a movie for him to watch.

James starts coming more regularly to her shop. Twice a week, thrice a week, and now every day. His visits become longer, and stopped ending in him walking out with a DVD case. Lily begins to look forward to his visits and is happy to gain what she considers a trusted friend. During one of these visits, about four months in, Severus comes to her shop. He looks incredibly nervous to be there, but as soon as he spies James, anger graces his face.

"What are you doing here?" he spits.

James frowns, "I could ask you the same thing."

"Lily's my best friend." her blood boils at being addressed like that.

"Hold it," she declared, "you, Sev, are no friend of mine!" 

"You called me 'Sev'. That counts for something, doesn't it?" he says, a pleading expression on his face.

"No, it doesn't." she tries to stay firm, "I don't love you, Severus, and I never will."

"But why not?" he asks petulantly.

"Because. You. Are. A. Criminal." she says harshly.

He sighs, "It's complicated. They just-"

"I DON'T CARE!" she screams. Feeling embarrassed about her lack of control, she takes a deep breath, her face hard, "Get. Out. Get out of here; get out of my life, of everything."

"Lily-"

"She said get out. I suggest you do," says James, who had been standing awkwardly before.

"You have no right to interfere!" shouts Severus, going purple.

"Yes he does." says Lily, suddenly calm, "He's my boyfriend."

Both Severus and James look at her surprise. She pleads with the latter silently, and luckily it seems that he gets the message, because he straightens up and glares at Severus.

"That's right. Now get out," he growls, looming threateningly above her old friend.

Shocked by the revelation, Snape is dazed and stumbles out of the shop with a blank look on his face. Lily sighs as soon as he is outside.

"Sorry about that."

James looks horrified at her apology. "No, why so you have to apologize? It's not your fault."

She shakes her head wearily. "No, it's not… I think I owe you an explanation."

He looks hesitant. She can sense his curiosity, but fear of pushing her.

"Severus was my best friend. He lived next door to me and we lived together when we moved here. A year ago, I found out that he had joined the local crime boss. We had a huge fight about and I moved out. A kind man who owns this property gave me a job in his shop here and flat above. Severus still comes around begging for my forgiveness, but I can't forgive him. And," she feels it's important to add, "for the record I never saw him more as a friend, but he is convinced I am the only woman for him."

James looks lost for words. She doesn't blame him. She's glad that he doesn't respond with the usual 'I'm sorry'. He is above that.

"I'm glad that I was able to help by being your boyfriend."

Lily blushes. "Yeah, sorry about that. It was the only thing I could think of that would make him leave."

"Are you kidding? I would love to be your boyfriend," he says, a wide but nervous smile on his face and a hand in his messy hair.

"Really?" she asks softly, her heart beating faster.

"Yeah. Notice how I never actually borrow movies when I come here," he admits sheepishly.

She laughs, "I noticed."

A tentative silence falls. They glance at each other shyly, with red cheeks and racing heartbeats.

"So… dinner?" he asks, running his hand through his long black hair.

Lily smiles. "Dinner. On one condition."

"What condition?" he asks nervously.

She smirks, "You have to let me mess up your hair."

He laughs, a loud happy laugh, "Sure."

Dinner goes incredibly well. They smile a lot, laugh and keep (intentionally) bumping some parts of them into each other. The one dinner turns into a second, and a third one soon follows. Remus still comes to the shop every week, and teases her incessantly about James.

He kisses her for the first time outside her apartment, when he drops her off after their third date. When their lips meet, she feels like she's floating, her head is spinning and her heart is pounding in her ears, but she doesn't stop, because there is no feeling as glorious in the whole goddamned world as kissing James Potter.

They find out so much more about each other now, how Lily's parents died in a car crash before she moved, how James's incredibly rich parents died of cancer and left all their fortune to him, how he's hoping to get a job at Universal Studios as an assistant producer, how he lives in a large flat with his best friends Sirius and Remus (who are a couple) and how his fourth best friend also left to join the crime boss.

She tells him how she studies at night, majoring in aeronautics, and how she dreams of going to space, how she started to work because of the money, but loves her job now and doesn't want to leave, how she loves movies, how she dislikes her red hair at times because it stands out, and how glad she is that she met James. Conversation between them flows as easily as water.

They fall into a comfortable relationship, full of laughter and sweetness and nauseating PDA. Lily meets Remus's boyfriend Sirius, who is even more laid-back that James, and they instantly form a close bond over betrayal by loved ones. Sirius had been disinherited at 16 because he refused to work for the boss. James is ecstatic because they mesh so well together.

Just a few months into their relationship, Lily and James are out camping by a lake and as she watches him chat happily while building the fire, she realizes she has fallen in love with him. She's terrified, because she feels simultaneously that she just met him and that she's known him for ages. But she's also exhilarated, because she's in love and it feels fucking amazing.

"James… I love you." She tells him.

He looks at her incredulously before leaping and snogging her senseless. When they come up for air, Lily asks, "I take it you feel the same way?"

James grins at her, "Lily, I have loved since the first day we met."

"Really?" she asks.

Instead of answering, he kisses her sweetly. She smiles at him.

She moves in, not soon after she finishes her degree and graduates with honors. He is there in the audience, cheering with Sirius and Remus. They celebrate that night, and he teases her, calling her 'Astronaut Evans', and she kisses him, hard, when she thinks she won't be Astronaut Evans.

A/N:Okay I had written this a while ago and found it so decided to type it out. That last sentence I must admit I ripped off from cygner’s story ‘Textbook, Timescarves and Tea’ which is also an amazing Muggle AU, by the way. I have been in love with Jily Muggle AUs since I started reading and got inspired by @petalstofish and @elanev91 to maybe write my own?

[teachingoutsidethebinary]

Spark of Love: Part 4

Summary: The Avengers may be a busy group of people, but they always make time for one special night each month: movie night.

Characters: OFC Remington, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Big Hero 6 spoilers!

Word count: 1526

A/N: As always, thanks to @bloo-moon-freak for being my beta reader! Tag list is open if you’re interested. Thanks for reading!

Read previous parts here

Full Masterlist

Life is busy for an Avenger. There was hardly a day when all of them were in the same place at the same time, and that made raising a kid difficult sometimes. Steve was technically Remington’s legal guardian (at least on all the phony paperwork Tony got for her), but everyone played a role in her upbringing. Whether it was getting Remington ready for school, helping her with her homework, or putting her to bed, the Avengers made sure they were there for her.

There was one night when everyone made sure they had no plans. Missions got rescheduled, dates got cancelled, and meetings were pushed to the side.

Movie night.

No matter where they were across the globe, the Avengers made it back in time for their monthly group movie night. Sure, Remington watched movies all the time with her various aunts and uncles, but she really loved it when everyone got together and piled the living room with fuzzy blankets and bowls of popcorn.

Everyone rotated what movie they watched, and tonight, it was Tony’s turn to pick.

“Hurry up!” Remington exclaimed. “I wanna watch the movie!” She scrunched her nose and the lights above flickered. Remington got the idea from when Nat had taken her to see Lion King on Broadway last year. She loved how the lights flickered at the end of intermission to signal everyone to get in their seats and had started using it when she got impatient.

“Remington,” Sam warned. “We don’t need a fuse busting right before the movie starts.”

“But everyone is so slow!” the 8 year-old pouted. “I’ve been waiting here for years.” She screeched as red wisps wrapped around her waist and hoisted her in the air. “Aunt Wanda!” she giggled.

Wanda slowly turned her until she was upside down and floated her over to the big pile of blankets in the middle of the couch. The wisps disappeared, and Remington landed with a muffled thud.

“You can set up the blankets,” Wanda said. “By the time you are finished, we will be ready.”

Remington smiled and began pulling the blankets off the couch. She was definitely a precocious little girl, but it was clear that everyone adored her. She stuck the tip of her tongue out in firm concentration as she made sure the blankets were spaced evenly across the room.

“Popcorn’s almost done!” Steve called from the kitchen. Bucky walked in the common room balancing three salad serving bowls of popcorn while the other super soldier finished popping the last two bags. Nat and Tony brought the last of the drinks, and everyone was finally ready.

“What are we watching, Uncle Tony?” Remington asked as she crawled to her usual spot between Bucky and Sam.

Bucky’s arm could somehow handle the output of Remington’s electricity, so he was always there to absorb the shocks whenever a movie scared her. Sam was, in Remington’s words “an awesome cuddler”, so she liked to sandwich herself between the two men. Whenever she got too scared, she would move towards Bucky and then back to Sam when she calmed down.

“You’re in for a treat, my dear Remington,” Tony said, dramatically, holding his hands behind his back. “I present to you Big Hero 6!” He whipped out the DVD and smiled widely.

“But I thought we were going to watch Moana,” Remington replied, her face falling.

“Well that’s not the reaction I was expecting,” Tony muttered. He walked over and knelt down in front of Remington. “Sweetheart, the last movie we saw was a singing movie. And the one before that. And the one before that.” He shuddered involuntarily. It had taken him weeks to get “Let it Go” out of his head, and he wanted to wait at least another month before subjecting himself to more singing Disney movies. “This movie has robots! And action! You’ll love it, I promise.”

“But-” Remington started. A squeeze from Bucky caused her to look up. He raised his eyebrows and stared down at her. Remington held his intense gaze with one of her own, almost as if she was having a silent conversation with him. Bucky and Remington had a unique relationship. He could relate to her on levels the others couldn’t because of his own experiences with HYDRA, and this seemed to strengthen their bond.

“Okay,” she finally sighed. “We can try this movie.” Sam held his arms out and she curled up in his lap. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, and she sighed contentedly.

Steve dimmed the lights as Tony popped the DVD into the TV and started the movie.

Any of Remington’s doubts about the movie’s quality disappeared as it moved through the storyline. She became enraged at Tadashi’s death so early in the movie and nearly caused a Tower-wide blackout. Nat made a mental note to never show her Up as Sam soothed her.

After getting over the mental scars of one of the main character’s deaths, Remington fell in love with Baymax. She giggled at his robotic voice and insistence on giving Hiro a hug.

“He’s like you, Uncle Steve,” Remington declared as Baymax squished Hiro to his white, fluffy chest.

“I am not a fat marshmallow!” Steve retorted, making Remington laugh even more.

“No but you give me nice hugs,” she replied, scooting out of Sam’s lap. She clumsily stepped over Nat and Wanda and took out a bowl of popcorn to give Steve a big hug. He held her to his chest and stroked her hair as she settled in her new seat. Remington may have had her usual spot with Sam and Bucky, but she was never one to sit still for too long.

Everyone was in stitches when Baymax began losing battery power.

“Hairy baby,” the robot cooed as it petted a fat cat. “Haiiirrry baby!”

“Can we get a cat?” Remington asked.

“No!” everyone replied.

“Aww man,” she mumbled. Much to everyone’s relief, she dropped the subject.

By the time the battle scene rolled around, Remington was back on the couch between Sam and Bucky. She was sitting on the edge, completely enthralled. Tony looked back and grinned smugly. He knew she was going to like this movie.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room at the very end of the movie.

“I am satisfied with my care,” Hiro sniffs. Baymax gives him one last nod and propels him to safety, unable to save himself.

“No! It’s not fair!” Remington cried. Tears streamed down her face as she gripped Bucky’s t-shirt. “Don’t leave him! Baymax!”

Thankfully, the movie had a happy ending, but that didn’t seem to quell Remington’s sadness. Even after Tony turned on the lights, she sat in Bucky’s lap, her tears still staining his shirt. Bucky shrugged his shoulders at the rest of the room.

“What wrong, Remington?” Sam asked, rubbing her leg. Remington just shook her head and buried her face deeper in Bucky’s chest.

“Hey, talk to us,” Steve said, soothingly. He walked over and sat down in front of her.

“It’s so sad,” she finally whispers.

“But it turned out okay,” Steve reminded her. “Hiro was able to fix him in the end.” He stood up and held out his arms. Remington stood up between Bucky’s legs and let Steve scoop her up in his embrace. “What’s going on, kiddo?” he asked.

“He left Baymax,” she replied, sadly. “It’s not nice being left behind.”

They never really talked about Remington’s past, but it was bound to come up sooner or later. According to her file, her parents had been killed by HYDRA when they had uncovered her powers, but the Avengers could never be sure what she remembered and what she didn’t.

“Hey, listen to me,” Steve said, setting her down on the ground. He lifted her chin so she was looking at him. “Your mom and dad tried really hard not to leave you, but the bad people who took you were too powerful. They loved you so much, kiddo. I promise.” Truthfully, he had no idea if what he was saying was true. But, the look on her face told him he said exactly the right thing.

“Really?” she asked.

“Yes,” Wanda chimed in. “Very much.” Nat hummed in agreement.

“And we are never going to leave you,” Tony added.

“Sorry, kiddo. You’re stuck with us,” Sam joked.

“Love you, Remington,” Bucky said, rubbing her back.

Remington stood stoically and considered all of their words.

“I love you all too,” she finally said. She looked down at the floor and back up again, with a shy smile on her face. “May we do a hug pile?”

Steve smiled and looked over her head at Bucky. His best friend nodded and crept up behind Remington. He lifted her in the air and waved her around as she squealed in delight. Steve wrapped his arms around both of them as they all fell to the floor. With whoops and cheers, the others joined in the pile until they all laid in a laughing heap. They wouldn’t wanted to have spent their movie night any other way.

TAGS: @buckyappreciationsociety

[inkandpen22]

Otherworldly Kings and Queens (10/10) Caspian Version

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Female!Reader/ Peter Pevensie x Female!Reader

Warnings: emotional ending but happy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Part Summary: As the Pevensies time in Narnia comes to an end, Y/N must decide. There isn’t just one question that needs to be answered... who will Y/N pick? Will Y/N really consider staying in Narnia? 

A/N: And with that one of my first series comes to an end... it’s both exciting yet sad at the same time as I’ve had so much fun writing it. Thank you to everyone who’s followed the series! I appreciate you so much! Be warned, you bet I cried a little writing this! It’s so bitter-sweet! 

Masterlist 

The whole Talmarine kingdom, as well as Narnians, have gathered in the courtyard for the ceremony. Aslan has made the decision to allow some Talmarines to leave Narnia if they choose. Apparently, Talmarines are like the Pevensies and myself I suppose, they're from our world. They traveled to Narnia centuries ago by accident and made a home here. Caspian speaks to his people with such ease as he encourages them to consider the offer. He's a natural-born leader. He's meant to be Narnia's future king. As I come to this conclusion, I take Peter's hand beside me. He glances down at me, having not expected the action. Nonetheless, he gives my hand a comforting squeeze and offers me a gentle smile of reassurance.

General Glozelle and Miraz's wife, Prunaprismia, volunteer first with her baby. In honor of their bravery, Aslan blesses them with a good future. The pair walk toward the tree that Aslan has made part in half. Everyone watches in awe the General and former Queen disappear in a blink. My lips part in astonishment. I don't think I'll ever get used to magic. Gasps fall across the crowd and people begin to question Aslan's intentions. They fear this is all a trick.

Peter slips his hand from mine and steps forward. "We'll go," he volunteers us.

"We Edmund frowns, sharing my expression.

"Wait, what?" I express rather rashly.

In my defense, it's justified. Peter never asked for my opinion. He's deciding for me. Aslan... Aslan made it out to seem as though I had a choice, as though we all would have at least some more time here.

"Come on. Our time's up," Peter tells me solemnly, but an ounce of hope lingers in his tone. "After all... we're not really needed here anymore," he determines while approaching Caspian to offer him his sword.

"I will look after it until you return," Caspian assures Peter confidently.

"I'm afraid that's just it," Susan interjects beside me. "We're not coming back."

"We're not?" Lucy pouts with concern.

"You two are," Peter predicts, glancing between Aslan and his youngest sister. "At least, I think he means you two."

"But why?" Lucy struggles to comprehend the purpose behind this news, as do I. "Did they do something wrong?"

"Quite the opposite, Dear One," Aslan voices. "Your brother and sister have learned what they can from this world. Now it's time for them to live on their own." Aslan comforts each of us with his wisdom.

Though, frankly, I'm finding it hard to swallow this harsh pill. But all things have their time.

"It's all right, Lu," Peter tries to ease Lucy's mind as he takes her hand gently. "It's not how I thought it would be...but it's all right."

Peter directs his attention to me and holds out his free hand for me to take. "One day you'll see, too. Come on."

He offers me a weak smile, not one that shows genuine happiness, but contentment. I ease my hand out to glide it into his, but something stops me. A feeling in my chest telling me not to settle as Peter as with his decision. I shift my head toward Aslan to ask the lion directly. "And what about me?"

My patience is growing thin. All this back-and-forth yet I haven't heard a concrete answer about where I belong. Aslan is constantly confusing me with his tricky wording. One minute he makes me believe that finding him wasn't my purpose for coming here and the next he's telling Peter that his time here is over. I belong where Peter is, I always have. If his purpose is in our world... then so is mine. Then, does that mean I'm like Edmund and Lucy? Am I destined to return in the future? How far in the future? Narnian time is different from ours, who knows how many years will pass before we're here again. It could be another thousand years in Narnian time.

"Your course is not as clear-cut as theirs," Aslan states with uncertainty. "You still have much to learn from here, as do Edmund and Lucy. Going back means one day, you will return, as will they."

"So I am to go back," I hope to clarify.

All I want is an answer, to know my path.

"Returning to your world will bring you back here someday, yes, that is a course you may take," Aslan nods calmly.

So, after all this time, after all the back-and-forth, Aslan is guiding me toward Peter. He made it sound as though I had to make this life-altering decision. The first few days we were here, I would've given anything to go back home. I never wanted to be in Narnia. Now that I have my chance to get out and everyone is rushing me out the door, I'm digging my heels into the dirt begging for a moment's pause. All this time Aslan has been pressing me to make a decision, why do I feel as though he's making it for me? It's suffocating.

I glance between Aslan and Peter nervously. Aslan wears his usual gentle and patient smile while Peter is confused with furrowed brows. His hand remains out to me, lingering for mine to join it. I whip my head around and my eyes land on Caspian. His features fall as he comes to terms with my departure. I approach the future King solemnly. All I can keep thinking is 'more time! More time! If only we had more time!' I can't visualize who the 'we' is exactly. When I say it, all I can think of is the riverbank in the forest. I see myself lying beside the river in the plush green, flower-covered, grass. The warmth of the golden sun scatters over my skin. I spent time with both Peter and Caspian there. What I would give to return to those moments. Whether I'm hoping it's with Peter or Caspian, I can't see. Each of them matters to me, on what level I can't decide.

"I'm glad I came," I tell Caspian whole-heartedly.

"I wish we had more time together," the prince sighs, taking my hands in his.

His hands are warm. Mine are always cold. I never noticed that before now. I'll miss that.

"I'm not entirely sure I belong here," I confess timidly, still unsure of my thoughts and Aslan's advice.

"Why not?" Caspian frowns as if my words are nonsense.

"I’m not of this world and if the Pevensies are 1,300 years older than you so am I," I shrug with a hint of a smile as I comprehend how old I am.

I'm not a Narnian or a monarch of Narnia. Aslan said I was meant to come here with the Pevensies, but our time is up and I've yet to find this purpose he speaks so much about.

Caspian expresses a faint smile, amused by my humor, but too solemn to fully be happy. Both of us pull the other into an embrace. The words continue to repeat in my mind. 'More time! More time! If only we had more time!' I feel as though I'm standing on the edge of the cliff overlooking a deep trench and I'm stuck wondering whether I should jump. Caspian and I part from one another. It's painful. I feel safe with him, more secure and understood than I ever have before. I don't want to let go, but at the same time, I'm yearning to cling to Peter.

Peter meets me halfway and wraps an arm around my waist, leading me toward the tree trunk. The Pevenesies begin toward the tree as well, ready to go on.

"It’ll be okay," Peter whispers in my ear as he brings me into his side.

I feel safe here with him. Peter is home for me. For years, he's been my rock, my strength. Through the war, losing my dad, through all the bad, Peter has been my guiding light.

He continues to comfort me. "Everything will be as if we-"

"Peter, no wait... " I shake my head as my steps come to a halt.

It takes a second for Peter to react. He comes to a halt a few steps ahead of me. Turning over his shoulder, he gives me a confused look.

"I can’t go back," I voice, but my volume is weak.

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I... I think I’m still needed here..." I stammer with uncertainty. "At least... At least that’s what I think Aslan means. He speaks like a fortune teller and it’s confusing!"

Peter switches his now crossed expression from me to the lion. "Aslan, is that true?"

"Y/N’s future is not set in stone as your four’s is in history. She has known that she has to decide her course of action for some time. The clock is dwindling," Aslan explains steadily.

Lucy steps forward from behind Peter. "You mean you have to stay here?"

"It means I have a choice, staying here or coming again later. I’m assuming the next time will be with you and Edmund. Either way, I’m needed here. I just know it." I try to explain, but how do I explain a feeling?

"Neither choice is wrong," Aslan injects as he moves to stand beside Peter and me. "Going back to your world would mean you would return with Edmund and Lucy. After that, your life will be as you've always envisioned with who you envisioned. Staying here would be as you've envisioned as well," Aslan explains, giving me a knowing look. "You will prosper in both worlds, in whichever you decide."  

Does Aslan know that I haven't been able to stop thinking about the riverbank? Is that what he's referring to? Does he mean that if I stay in Narnia I'll be with Caspian? If I return to England Peter and I will be together? Choosing a world also means choosing between Peter and Caspian.

"But why?" Lucy pouts.

"I don’t know," I struggle to say as my eyes begin to well up.  

"I do," Peter voices.

"What?" I mutter.

"I didn’t understand it at first, but Aslan told me something earlier today. He said, ‘as much as we wish we could, sometimes we can’t choose who we love, the world chooses for us.’ You’re needed here. This is why you were brought here with us. When Caspian called for us with the horn, he unknowingly was calling to you as well."

I press my lips together as my throat becomes strained from holding back tears. "Peter I- "

"It’s okay," he assures me as his hand glides up to cup my cheek. "Everything is as it should be."

"If this is how it should be, why does it hurt so much?" I mutter, my tone shaky with emotion.

Peter shakes his head as his eyes become glossy. "It won’t forever. We’ll both grow and find that which we were destined to. I always thought we would find that together," he chuckles softly, it's bitter-sweet. "But this is right," he speaks with certainty.

"But I’ll never see you again," I comprehend the harsh reality of it all. "I... I don't want that! I can't imagine my life without you in it! You've always been there and I... haven't I lost enough people already? How many more goodbyes must I say?"

"We mustn’t think like that. One day we'll be together again!" Peter thinks optimistically.

This isn't fair. None of this is fair! In choosing Narnia, in choosing a different life for myself, I'm losing my best friend. I'm losing the one person who kept me going, who gave me a reason to survive.

"I love you," I cry.

Peter grins at my words, a faint and joyful chuckle escapes between his teeth. "And I’ve always loved you, perhaps I always will. We’ll never lose that, even across worlds."

I nod repeatedly, holding onto every syllable. I pray and hope, that he's right. Peter pulls me into his chest and I wrap my arms around him for dear life. I grip the fabric of his loose shirt in my fists. His hand cradles my head as he plants a kiss on my forehead.

Do the ones we love ever truly leave us? Is the memory of them strong enough to keep us going in their absence? I doubt a day will pass by where Peter doesn't cross my mind or any of the Pevensies for that matter.

Now that our time has officially run out, I say my goodbyes to each of the Pevensies. I'm not just saying goodbye to Peter's siblings, each of them has become family to me. Lucy and Susan cry with me as the three of us hug each other. Edmund does his best not to show emotion, but I can see behind his stone hard expression that he's holding back. His tight embrace is enough evidence as well.

When the moment comes for the Pevensies to return to London, I hold onto Peter's hand as I approach the tree with them. His siblings walk a step ahead as Peter walks backward to face me. Until the last second, we hold on.

"Someday," I nod, as though I'm making a promise that one day we'll see each other again.

He nods, agreeing to the vow. "Someday."

Our hands begin to slip as Peter backs away toward the cliff between the tree halves and my breath hitches in my throat. I stare into his sea-glass eyes and the seconds travel rapidly by. In a blink, he's gone, disappeared from my world.

A gasp escapes my lips at the sight. My arm falls to my side as tears glide down my cheeks. My heart sinks as reality hits me that I'll never see Peter ever again as long as we're alive. An arm wraps around my waist, supporting me. Caspian appears in my peripheral vision as my eyes remain locked on the open space beneath the tree.

"I've got you," he assures. "It’ll be okay."

I know..." I swallow hard, my face becomes blank other than the tears falling down my cheeks. "But for right now it's agony."

"This too shall pass. You did right by your heart today, be proud," Aslan encourages.

I glance toward the lion, "so I was right?"

"You were never wrong," he smiles.

"I can’t believe you stayed," Caspian confesses beside me.

I look at the boy with a sigh of relief. "I can't either, but it feels right," I smile softly.

Despite everything, the painful goodbye, the uncertainty, I know I'm where I'm meant to be now. I couldn't leave. I wasn't sure until Peter was guiding me to the tree. I would've done anything to stay.  

"Now we have all the time in the world!" Caspian gleams, over the moon.

Seeing him so happy eases my emotions. He's right, now we have all we could ever need, more time.

"That’s all I ever wanted," I grin.

His lips part as his eyes scan my face. Gently, his hand brushes across my cheek, and I lean into his touch as my eyes fall shut. Now, when I close my eyes and envision the riverbank, he's there beside me. It was him all this time.

"Y/N? My Love," he mutters.

"Hm?" I hum contently as my eyes flicker open to meet his jet-black ones.

"Marry me," he states with certainty and determination.

Bewildered, my eyes widen. Marry him?! Be...Become Queen of Narnia?! 

A sea of gasps and murmuring travel across the crowd. I shift my eyes to them, analyzing various faces. Then, I glance at Aslan. The lion narrows his eyes at me as he wears a soft smile. He wants me to make this decision for myself. He's certain I make it on my own. His words repeat in my mind, 'you were never wrong.' Is this the purpose he speaks of? Is this why I was called here? 

Destiny is a funny thing. 

Blinking rapidly, I inhale sharply and turn my attention back to Caspian who awaits my answer eagerly. He smiles brightly with raised brows. Our eyes meet and I decide instantly, perhaps I already knew my decision.

"Yes,” I answer without a moment’s hesitation. 

Caspian releases a sigh of relief, his grin never fading. In a moment of impulse, I extend my neck and bring my lips to his. My fingers glide to the back of his neck, bringing him in closer. He deepens the kiss as he cups my face urgently. I smile into the kiss and he does the same, both of us over the moon. 

Finally, we have time, something we thought we’d never have. Now, we have forever. 

_________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @blackbirddaredevil23​ @rangergranger11 @hyperactiveravenclaw @whiskeywinter89​ @i-hav-no-life​

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #215

i’m not dead yet, just not into surveys very much lately.

What is your favorite dinosaur? Spinosaurus. <3 Would you rather live with wolves or tigers? Hypothetically, if I wouldn't be harmed, wolves. I love social species. Have you ever forgotten what a certain kind of pain felt like? Getting my nose re-pierced like fuck man. What do you remember the most about your childhood? I think the strongest memory is my parents not getting along. Or the stories I made playing with my favorite toys. Would you rather have a pet dinosaur or have mythical creatures be real? Have mythical creatures exist. I want a tame, little dragon. Do you have a favorite toy from childhood still? Astonishingly, no. I was incredibly surprised to find out I got rid of them at some point when I wanted to add the crocodile to my room as a cute decoration and memory. What are your thoughts on the end of the world? *shrug* Not like we can do anything about it, unless you count our own carelessness as a selfish species, but that won't actually end the "world," just mankind. Which sports do you enjoy watching? Dance. Would you ever have a breed of dog that is considered aggressive? I don't want another dog, but hypothetically, yes, because no species is inherently mean. It all depends on how the owner raises it. Have you ever made bread? No. Would your childhood self be disappointed? FUCK YES SHE WOULD BE. God, the thought is depressing. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Animals and my niece. Would you like to live in a realm where the zombie apocalypse is possible? Is it too far into imagination to say it's possible in the one we're already in? You have zombie viruses in things like bugs, so in time, something developing that can affect humans isn't out of the question. But anyway, anyone who answers "yes" to this, as in they'd like it, are full of shit. Most of us would die in a heartbeat. You'd witness others that you love die. Every day you question if you'll see the next. The zombie apocalypse has been so romanticized in many forms of media, but please, tell me you'll still be having fun when you watch your mother be eaten or some shit. Have you ever gotten into an accident with you parents’ car? No. What’s the wallpaper on your computer? A meerkat pup looking close up to the camera. What was the most difficult decision you’ve ever had to make? Deciding Jason couldn't be my entire world anymore and I had to let go. Name a band/artist you like that isn’t that popular. There's a YouTube artist named Jonathan Young that I MARVEL over the fact he's not signed with someone. My mom didn't even believe he wasn't professional the first time I played some songs in the car. Can you lift your significant other (your best friend if you’re single)? I'm certain I could. What is the first vehicle you recall your parents/guardians owning? A greenish-blue van. What was the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? I don't know. I'm not really that rebellious. Pick one: Laundry, Dishes, or Vacuuming? I actually don't mind vacuuming. Have you ever moved and had to change schools growing up? No. Name the most meaningful thing a non-relative has done for you. When my former best friend let me live with her while we were homeless. Memories like that sometimes make me question my decision to cut her off permanently... though I remind myself the bad outweighed the good and our relationship was just never going to be stable. The highway and back roads take you to the same place; Choose your route. Depends on what's quicker to save gas. Are you more likely to give up or persist when you’re having trouble? It depends on the situation. Tbh I think I give up more often. Do you resemble one parent more than the other? I don't think so. Your best friend needs a kidney to survive; Do you give them one of yours? That's my girlfriend. So duh. Name a big life event that has taken place for you within the last 2 years. I physically met Sara. Do you end up regretting things you say often? I don't know about often. Name one thing you look forward to as you get older. Hopefully being financially stable. Do you use your hands when you talk to emphasize what you are saying? Yeah. You own a huge business; what is it? I can't even imagine myself owning a "huge" business. Are you afraid to ask for help when you know that you need it? Sometimes. Depends on who I'm asking. Name somebody you think died before their time. A LOT OF PEOPLE. I think above all of my options, Steve Irwin. Fucking saint, teacher, and pilot of conservation and loving our fellow animals. Name the possession you’ve had the longest. I have a lot of infancy stuffed animals up in the attic. You’re writing a novel; Is it horror, mystery, romance, etc.? Fantasy. Would you consider yourself an interesting person in general? I guess. I know I'm at least different. Have you ever gotten in trouble for running up your phone bill? No. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I don't plan on changing the style any time soon. Hopefully at some point soon I can get to the damn hair salon and get it dyed lilac, though. But it'll be expensive for a pro to do it (I'm very much so done with anyone less trying to do so, as it always fails), so that's something I don't think will come soon. It's not high on my priorities. Who was the last person to see you cry? Is this person special? I'm sure it was my mom. Probably. Of course she is. What season would you like the world to experience year-round? Autumn. When was the last time you took a picture of something? Was it yourself? Lmao it was of something funny on Facebook that I texted to Sara a few days ago. Are you currently drifting away from anyone? Who is it? No. Would you say you are really close to the members of your family? Most, no. I barely see anyone outside my immediate fam. Is there anyone who lives in the same house as you, that you can’t stand? The stupid dog. Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? No, but it was likely RP-related. Think of the last person you kissed, when was the first time you talked to them on the phone? She knows I hate talking over the phone, so we use Skype to talk. I think the first time I called her via phone though was when I was having an emotional breakdown. What does your phone do when you get a new message? It makes the sound from Spyro when you pick up gems if it's not on vibrate, and when the screen goes black, a green light blinks. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Who was the last person you were in a car with? Mom. Do you party too much? I never did. Who were you last on the phone with? I answered a number I didn't recognize, and it wound up being some bullshit about my car warranty or something when I don't even have a car. I just hung up the moment I knew what it was. Last movie you watched? The Lion King live action remake. Incredible. If you had to get a piercing (not ears), what would you get? Fuck, I want collarbone dermals so badly. Do you like holding hands? With Sara. Have you ever seen the last person you texted naked? Yes. What are you listening to? "Third Day of a Seven Day Binge" by Manson is on rn. Do your parents allow you to date? I'm 23. They never really restricted me from it. Then again, I started dating in the 7th grade, so I was older than most first couples. Have you ever had a serious conversation with your dad? Yes. Would you rather have long or short hair? I could not be happier than I have short hair now. It's so much easier to manage, and it really did me well chopping it all off considering my bad self-care episodes. I recommend it soooo much to anyone struggling with that. Do you want to have children? Big No. Do you think you’ll have the same boyfriend/girlfriend a year from now? Realistically, yes. How old were you when you stopped sleeping with a nightlight? I don't know. What topic did you write your last essay about? This awful book "Masters of Doom" or whatever I had to read in game design in college, I think. Whose car did you ride in last other than yours? Dad's. What was the last clothing article you purchased? Some pants. Who was the last person that made you cry [accidentally or on purpose]? Probably myself. Is there construction going on in/near your neighborhood? No. Who did you go/plan on going with to prom? I went to Jason's senior prom and he came to mine. What language[s] did you study in school? Latin for one awful semester, then German for four. I miss German, honestly. Have you ever been to a debate and speech tournament? Hell no, that sounds so boring. Choose two dead celebs who could be your biological parents - explain why? Steve Irwin for my incredible love of animals and uh... I'm not sure about a mom? I thought about this for like two minutes and really don't know lmao. If you were living in the past, which job that doesn’t exist anymore would you like to have? No idea. Which animal are you afraid of? Most afraid of, probably some spiders, like huntsmen spiders. I'm afraid of most spiders in general (if they're near me or in my house, anyway), I cannot stand maggots and larvae of that sort, and whale sharks freak me out. AND WASPS. FUCK WASPS. How would your wedding bouquet look like? *shrugs* It would probably depend on the wedding theme. What kind of game would you like to play that doesn’t exist yet? I can't even swallow how unbelievable Shadow of the Colossus would be in VR. What is one thing you would never ever eat? Escargot. Is there a music video that you would like to see turned into a movie or a TV show? Which one? *shrugs* Which character in your favorite movie do you hate the most? It's impossible to hate any from TLK. How do you think the world will end? A meteor striking, or a deadly volcano going boom. Either way, it's gonna be smoke shrouding the sun. Do you own anything clown related? No. If you were a celebrity - which celebs you would befriend? Y'all done know one, but I think the celeb I would connect to most and most easily befriend would be Shane Dawson. He is such a goddamn sweetheart, chill as fuck, and #relatable. There's really a lot... All YT-related lmao. Except Bindi Irwin. Damn, would I love to meet her. If you were going to make a horror movie that you would be scared of yourself, what would it be about/how would it look like? I can't handle those movies about women being raped and impregnated by a demon and shit. I can't. Fuck The Rite. If you could take a pill that would cure something in you that isn’t an illness - what would you be cured off? How ungodly shy and awkward I am. Ew. Do you like Rihanna? I don't know most of her music, but I don't enjoy most pop, so. Have you ever experienced hydroplaning? Not severely, anyway, and not while I was driving. What’s your opinion on the legalization of weed? Legalize it medicinally. What’s your current favorite song? Man idk. Have you ever hit a girl? I hit my sister once as a kid. What was your New Year's resolution? I don't make them. Do you find Eminem attractive? Not particularly. Are you wearing nail polish? I never do. Have you ever been/considered being vegetarian? I was for a couple months and definitely plan on going back to it once I get to the weight I want... if that ever fucking happens. What’s the last concert you went to? Alice Cooper. Do you own a cat? Yes. :') He's my best buddy. Do you like cats? I love cats. Do you like watching music videos? No. How are your grades? I'm not back in school yet. But SOON. Do you listen to Aerosmith? YO "Love In An Elevator" just finished on my iTunes. I love them. Have you climbed a tree in the past month? I never have. Were you ugly in middle school? Jfc save that child. What’s your type? CHARISMATIC. Stand out, man, and be proud of it. Having a smart head isimportant, too. Having a loving heart. Have a good sense of humor. Don't judge. Do you sleep with one of those mask things on your face? No. Have you ever straightened your hair? Yes. What kind of calculator do you use? The one on my phone or laptop. Have you ever seriously tried to count the stars? Lol no. Did you see the lunar eclipse? I'm guessing you're talking about the biggie from early this year? Yes. It was incredible. Do you have a bank account? No. Did you go on vacation last summer? What's a "vacation?" Where to? N/A Have you ever been in a choir? At church as a kid as well as elementary school. Are you happy with your looks? No. Have you ever gone streaking? You couldn't have paid me to do so even when I was in great shape. Are any of your siblings married? Yes. Were you in the wedding party? Yes. Have you ever seen a ghost? I've sure as hell seen something. Do you even believe in ghosts? I absolutely do. Have you ever had an eating disorder? Thank God no. What big corporation(s) do you support, particularly because you like what they stand for (many vegan items, donate large amount of money to charities, pay their workers a living wage, etc)? I'm really not educated on the morals behind most businesses. Oh, I do know Jeffree Star's products are entirely vegan and cruelty-free though, so his company definitely is one. If you wear foundation or have in the past, what type of applicator do you use (beauty sponge, foundation brush, fingers, etc)? Is there a type of applicator that doesn’t work for you? I've always just used my hands because we don't have anything else for foundation, I think. For those of you that do listen/watch ASMR videos, what are your favorite “triggers”? If you don’t watch ASMR, what are your thoughts on the whole phenomenon that seemed to happen the past couple years over it? I don't listen to it, but I don't care if others do. It doesn't do anything for me. I personally find the talking ones super uncomfortable, but if someone likes that, whatever. Are there any true crime cases that bother you immensely because of the story or verdict of the court case (ex. OJ Simpson)? I know there're some I've seen on Facebook and such. Do you use store loyalty programs? If you don’t use them, what is your reasoning behind that? What store loyalty programs do you feel offer the best incentives, regardless if you aren’t a member of them? I think I am for Hot Topic? I know I have a card for there. I think Sam's Club is a great place to have membership; that place has some damn deals. Mom used to be one, as well as an employee, and that shit was great. When it comes to skincare, what product could you not go without over the other ones? Where are you most likely to shop for your skincare needs? I could go without any, save of course for a wet washcloth. If I get something for skincare, it's just gonna be at Wal-Mart. Regardless if you aren’t someone who hoards or keeps stuff for a long time, what is one (type of) item that you have a hard time getting rid of? STUFFED ANIMALS. FUCKING CHRIST. If you eat meat, what is at least one vegan item (not necessarily a banana) that you like or would like trying (such as trying a soy ham substitute)? If you don’t eat meat, what is one meat item that you like and understand why people eat it? I have no idea. Being vegan just sounds... gah. I couldn't imagine. Major respect for vegans, man. What is a food that is always better homemade? How about a food that is always better at a restaurant? I don't know about the homemade one. Maybe like... cobblers? Meanwhile, steaks tend to be better at restaurants, I've found. If you watched teen dramas growing up (such as 90210 or One Tree Hill), which one was your favorite or you liked the best? If you watched family sitcoms growing up (such as Full House or The Fresh Prince), which one was your favorite or liked the best? I'm not sure if I watched teen dramas. For family sitcoms, ummm... I loooooooooooved/still love The Nanny. I like the two mentioned as well. What is a tradition either within your country or family that you feel is not needed or could in fact even be bad (ex. using paper plates for every party, eating hot dogs every weekend during the summer, etc)? Getting drunk as a motherfucker on New Year's Eve. Is there something you said you wouldn’t do, but in the end you did it? Yeah, a few things. Are you originally an American, or are you some other kind of nationality? I'm just American, save for like, if ancestry is involved. Then I originate from Europe. Do you sometimes pretend to do things you don't know how to do? No? What was the last compliment you remember someone gave to you? Who was it? Hm, I don't know. Have you ever had one of those pregnancy scares? When did this take place? Two completely unrealistic ones in high school. Are you someone who puts ranch dressing on everything you eat? No. Have you ever personally been friends with a stripper or prostitute? Not to my knowledge. What, to you, is the best way a guy can smell? Give examples? I personally like gentle colognes. How many times a day, on average, do you think critically about something? Twice or so. Are you someone who speaks their mind, or do you hold it all in? It depends. Where do you work at this moment in time? Does this place have insurance? I don't currently work bc I can't be a functioning adult in a work environment without collapsing into panic attacks. :^) If you have tattoos, which one that you have was the most painful? The inside of my forearm. Are you currently in the process of ‘bettering’ yourself as a person? I'm trying to grow more independent. What is something you tend to not be able to stand in the least bit at all? Anti-LGBT bullshit. OH BOY, or anti-vax insanity. Do not even interact with me if you're a "vaccines cause autism" imbecile. Does it make you angry when people complain an excessive amount around you? If it's over stupid shit or an issue you brought about yourself, then yes. At what age did you actually hit puberty? Was it hard for you to handle? I don't remember, and yes, it was. I remember crying outside the day I got my first period because I realized I wasn't a kid anymore. Are you considered a graceful person or are you more clumsy? I'm the clumsiest fuck you'll meet in your entire life. Have you ever sucked in helium? Did your voice change at all? No. Do you know any girls who have an overly manly voice and features? Girls can't be "overly manly," just as men can't be "overly feminine." Do you play any sports? If so, did you meet new friends that way? I did, and yes. Do people ever make fun of you for something you really can't help? No. Do you have any pets who will bite anyone else out there, besides you? No. Have you ever tried chocolate chip waffles? Are they now your favorite? Yes; no. What company are you signed up for car insurance, if any at all? N/A Are you someone who really likes to cook? What’s your favorite meal? No. Are you the candle lighting type? I prefer incense. Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? If he looks anything like he did, yeah. But I haven't even seen a picture of him in forever. Coffee in the morning, yay or nay? Don't like coffee. Do you ever drink your coffee black? N/A Body waxing, yay or nay? Ow, I would never do it. Honeymoon, where? I'd love the pink beaches of the Bahamas... but fuck Bermuda's Triangle, my conspiracy theory ass ain't going near that shit lmao. The black beach in I think... Scotland or whatever will do. Anal sex, yay or nay? Never tried, never will. The concept just really grosses me out. Has anyone ever written on you? Probably. Have you ever dated a fat person? I'd prefer the term "overweight," but w/e, once or twice depending on if you count one relationship as "dating." How many foreign friends do you have? In which countries do they live? Quite a few, having been on the Internet so long... I've got some in Europe and one in Australia. How long have you known the oldest friend you have? "Old" as in who I've had the longest? Since I was ten, I think. If you include my "real" friends. What’s the most interesting story you’ve never told anybody? Good question. When’s the last time you went to a bookstore? What did you buy? Last year when we were threatened by a really bad hurricane. I got The Fault In Our Stars and only read like... ten pages lmao. It wasn't because the book was bad, I just don't read anymore. What’s the most complicated meal you’ve cooked? Hunty I can't cook. I've cooked scrambled eggs and spaghetti like once lmao. What is truly attractive to you? Wisdom, for one. Have you ever come up with your own game? As a kid, yeah. What is something you value a lot in your life? The fact I have my mom in my life hit me first. I. Don't know where the fuck I'd be in life right now if my mom wasn't here with me. Whose hand did you hold last? Sara's. What was the last thing you planted? Oh boy, I have no idea. Oh wait, years ago I grew habaneros only to find out non-pickled ones are fucking gross. What or who was the last thing you gossiped about? I have no clue. I don't really do that. Did anything exciting happen just before you went to sleep last night? Well, my cat literally peed on Mom. That was "exciting." When’s the last time you helped a senior citizen somehow? I don't know. What’s the most selfless act you have done? Man, a lot of "I don't know" in this one. You see a spider web in the corner of your room. What do you do? I'm finding that guy or moving. Have you ever intentionally fed a house spider? No. How do you like your favorite beverage? Cold. What’s your big family secret? We don't have one. Do you answer the phones at your work? I don't have a job. Have you ever given up on someone and then went back to them? Many, many times with my former best friend. Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? I do every single night, and it sucks ass. What shows do you watch? None. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes? Yeah. When’s the last time you had a headache? I think I had a mild one a few days ago? I don't remember. My days are sooo blurred together. Do you know anyone who has been arrested? Yes. Think back to the last person you kissed, how many times have you laughed with them? A whole lot. Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating of on you? Yeah, because of his ex and a believable lie. It was ultimately a good thing that that was what immediately turned me away though, as I don't want to imagine how a long-term relationship with him would've gone, honestly. Who was the last person you kissed? Sara. Do you still talk to the person who hurt you the most in life? No. Who’s the last person you sent a friend request to? I've no clue. I don't really send requests because I don't know more friends on there. Is anyone in your family a criminal? Not by blood. Who was the last person you told to shut up? I don't recall; I don't tell people to shut up, generally. I haven't had a confrontation in a long time, besides the occasional arguments with my mom, and I wouldn't tell her to shut up. What was the last thing you lied to your mother about? I don't remember. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No. Name a song that reminds you of a past relationship: I could name 50 that remind me of Jason and myself if I cared enough to. Do you think anyone hates you? One person probably does, at least. What do you think your last ex would say about you? I don't know, but probably something nice. He's my closest friend irl. Do you still talk to the first person you fell in love with? No. Do you still want the last person that hurt you to have a happy life? Yeah. Have you ever had a crush on any of your teachers? No. I, along with like every girl in class, found a former band teacher attractive, but I definitely didn't have an actual crush on the dude. Thank God considering he was eventually fired for relations with a student. Why did your last relationship end? I learned I didn't like him romantically, and also because I discovered I liked Sara instead. How long did it take you to get over your last heartbreak? A year and a half. And that's just when I started moving on. Do you know anyone that looks up to you? I doubt it. Which one of your friends is always serious? I don't think any qualify for that. Are there any people in your life that you wish you never met? Yeah. Do people think you’re a bad person? Probably someone. Do they also think that you’re a slut? I don't see how a single person could think that. Are you with the last person you kissed? Yes. Have you ever been punched? No. How many people do you know that have been to jail? Multiple. Three off the very top of my head. Do you know anyone that sells drugs? I don't think so? Do you know anyone that does drugs? Yes. Do you care about what’s happening in other countries? Well yeah. I care about the world being a good, safe place. Do you think you have a pretty good reputation? I guess, at least as far as being a decent person goes. Meanwhile, I'm sure my rep as being a proper adult and such is shit. Where do you see yourself in 25 years? I don't want to think of that. You’re at a bar, you witness a man drugging some girls drink. What do you do? I'm not even REMOTELY kidding, I'm knocking the fucker OUT, calling the cops, and of course telling the girl. Fuck that guy getting out of that without a black eye. Who is more attractive, someone who is edgy or preppy? I could never, ever be attracted to a preppy person, so guess. I wouldn't want an excessively edgy person either, but I'm NOT into the preppy jazz. Short term dating, or long relationship? I've always been about long-term relationships. Kids? How many? Why? Names? Boy or girl? *Bugs Bunny "no" meme* Ever play that game MASHO?? "I’ve played MASH. I don’t know if MASHO is similar or something different entirely." <<< Same. A sad child, skinny and underfed, approaches you. What do you do? Obviously ask them what's up if they approach me, and from there, it would depend on what they tell me. I'd most likely call the cops first about a child like that because I wouldn't know the appropriate place to actually call; if the kid is underfed to an obvious degree, odds are I shouldn't find their parents first. I'd think it wiser to get some kind of officer to do so and determine if that child should even be with those people for their own good. What happens after death? I hope some kind of peace, but who really knows. Would you cheat on your BF/GF if you knew they would never know? No??????? Because I would know?????????????? And I have a conscience???????????????????????? Do you think there will ever be peace on earth? Why or why not? No. People as a whole can't get along and too many find violence to be the ultimate solution to big problems. Favorite childhood story growing up? I remember I particularly liked Stellaluna because of the drawings, and I enjoyed the actual story of Chrysanthemum. Worst way to die? Why? Some form of slow torture, I'm sure. Because if you've gotta die, make it quick. And humane. What were you in school? Jock, nerd, prep etc… I was recognized as an emo/metalhead thing. Did you ever eat playdoh at a child? I don't think so. Your dreams tend to be? As of the late, violent, at least those that I remember... I wake up attacking the air a lot. Describe your aesthetic? A quiet pastel bunny and a furious but awkward gothic demon are aggressively fucking 24/7 while trying to decide who's top and who's bottom. Do you believe in the afterlife? I believe in something. What book have you re-read so many times that the cover is completely worn? None. Are you a morning person or a night person? I'm in a brighter mood in the morning. Who do you most admire? There're multiple people I look up to for different things. But as for most, yeah, probably Mark. What is your favorite thrift/antique shop find? I love this shipwreck lamp that I have. What is the most incredible place in nature you’ve visited? The mountains. What is your greatest achievement? Still being alive lmao. Is something expensive better than something made with love? Almost never. What do you think of stealing? Uh, don't do it??????? If you could be told when you were going to die, would you want to know? NO. What would you do in case of the zombie apocalypse? Die very early on lmao. Okay but realistically, I'd want to climb somewhere. I'm going to assume a zombie can't figure out ladders 'n shit. What have you learned from pain? You yourself play a big part in making things better. Are you more worried about doing things right or doing the right thing? Doing the right thing. What’s something you know you do differently than most people? Eat biscuits like a fucking caveman by separating parts and eating each individually lol. Would you ever adopt a child? If I actually wanted a kid, yeah. If you could make anything glow in the dark, what would it be? *shrugs* Could you ever picture someone writing a biography about you? Hell no, my life's uneventful as could be.