#the quote on quote blood is actually pink paint but

[zirkkun]

when error destroys the multiverse finally and suddenly realizes that's actually never what he wanted at all

A gift for my friend @tatatale ! This is the backstory of her Error (named Neon) ❤️

Ink by @comyet Error by @loverofpiggies + Old designs used to reflect this was very far in the past. Please remember in Ink's case to support the creator's request of using his newer design. + ✨💚 kofi! || reblogs appreciated! 💚✨

[polarisjisung]

BITTERSWEET

synopsis: it's routine— you patch up his wounds and watch them heal, he salts your wounds but doesn't stick around long enough to watch them grow.

wc: 2.7k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, uses of petnames, reader ogles at jaemin for a little while, jaemin gives mixed signals but also not really?

notes: I was supposed to post this last week but the formatting was so off anyways happy renjun day, here's a jaemin fic?

part two

even when he was battered, bruised and most probably broken, na jaemin stared up at you with those shiny eyes, almost iridescent under the moonlight.

you havent seen him in weeks.

you'd like to kick and scream and shout at him for ghosting you all this time, the possibilities of everything that could've happened to him, worrying you endlessly up until now.

you hate him for just showing up like this, out of the blue, you think, but his composure suggests that this isn't as big of a deal as you make it out to be—whether it was weeks or maybe even months later, na jaemin would always circle back to you

like always, there he is stood at your doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night, dripping blood all over the welcome mat that lays on your front porch, his usual carefree self

you know you'll be getting a long scolding from your mother about the kind of company you surround yourself with the next morning, before being forced to rub the stains out of said mat, but in this moment, you couldn't seem to care less

perhaps it's because you swear you've never seen anything prettier, even with cuts littered across his skin, and a swollen eye that would certainly discolour the next morning, he looks ethereal.

for a moment, your jaw hangs low and jaemin holds back a chuckle at the sight, though you wish he hadn't, before you slip to the side and let him in, shutting out the cold as he flings the door to a close behind him, finally turning to face you

there's an unfamiliar sweetness to his scent tonight, his clothes oozing with the smell of cologne and what any sane person could recognise as perfume— women's perfume.

suddenly you find it difficult to keep looking at his stupidly pretty face, almost feeling sick

jaemin however, had always basked in the warm feeling of admiration that came with your look, though it mostly fell straight through his heart and inflated his sky high ego instead, jaemin wonders how despite his cocky nature you seemed to welcome him all the same

admittedly tonight your eyes hold a deeper gloominess to them, bloodshot, because you're tired, he tries to convince himself, but he knows a lot of that redness comes from the purple painted splodges against his skin, the bruises that burn deep inside his being— a burning that seems negligible at the sight of you

"cute slippers" he whispers, the sight of your fluffy pink hello kitty slippers causing the heat to rush to your cheeks

the embarrassment fades just as quickly as it seemed to have taken over your entirety— jaemin had seen a lot worse of you "almost as cute as you" he adds

you brush over the topic like it means nothing, frankly it doesn't, like most things with jaemin

"judging by the state of you" you sigh, two hands on your hips as you look him up and down disappointedly, "you didn't win this fight" and jaemin reels back, far too animated for you to assume he's actually in any pain considering the offended expression he wears, but you know him far too well to fall for his, admittedly convincing, acts

"I won, actually" he says weaving his arms through the gaps between yours to pull you closer, letting then hang at your waist

"sure you did" you nod sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, following you into the kitchen

he knows what it means when you hold out two mugs, specifically the ones you had hand painted on your trip to the park when you were 5, adorned with the same floral pattern in different colours, and a cheesy quote continued across the two cups— his eyes light up

"hot chocolate?"

and jaemin hates hot chocolate, until its made by you, the sweet, almost childish drink something he could only savour in the dim lighting of your living room

maybe it was because of that specific brand of crazy expensive hot chocolate you used, that tasted a little dark and sometimes too strong for your liking, or maybe, most probably it was the taste of nostalgia that would linger on his lips each and every time

all jaemin knows is he would find himself laughing at the moustache of marshmallow fluff that would undoubtedly form over your upper lip as you carefully dabbed against his wounds with the antiseptic you kept on hand, one reserved solely for him since he was allergic to the regular stuff

he nods, attempting to grin before pulling his lip between his teeth at the sharp pain that strikes across it—hissing.

you laugh, despite the dull ache that takes over your chest seeing him like this

flicking your head over to the sofa is all you can do, worried your voice would give way if you gave the instructions verbatim but jaemin seems to get the memo.

as he takes a seat on your mother's favourite buttoned yellow velvet loveseat— you choose not to read to far into his choice of sofa

you're fishing through the drawers of your freezer to find some ice to help his wounds but all you can find is a bag of dino nuggets and a bag of peas— you decide the dino nuggets have a larger surface area and would probably be a little more help as you emerge through the kitchen door, hoping you made the right choice

jaemin finds the faint look of contemplation on your face far too adorable to hide the smile that reaches his now coloured cheeks, one darker than the other owing to the bruise that blossoms over it

"here" you offer it out to him wrapped in a towel, having learnt from your mistakes the last time you'd accidentally given him freezer burn

"gonna make me do it all by myself doll?" you shoot a questioning look his way "I'm all ache-y"

contrast to his tough demeanor, jaemin looks up at you with a pout and a look of feigned innocence

"yeah? well you should've thought about that before landing yourself in this situation"

you're ready to turn a full 180 on your heels and walk away, until jaemin's fingers wrap around your wrist, bruised knuckles begging for some sympathy

"please?"

ultimately you give in. you knew you would the second he looked at you with those shiny big eyes. you didn't know how to say no, not to him

"fine."

"that's my girl" he beams up at you, you know better than to let his words replay in your mind, his girl, why did that sound so damn good?

as your press the towel to his cheek, the cool feeling against his burning hot skin makes him wince, though you're not sure who's in more pain considering the way you your heart threatens to leap out of your chest

"how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful huh jaemin" you sigh, rubbing circles against his warm skin in an attempt to comfort him, angry eyes latched onto the rough blood stained patches

"don't call me that" his voice drops an octave somehow louder than before despite coming in whispers

"what else shall I call you? is that not your name jaemin?"

his eyes almost flash over completely black as he huffs, "not to you it isn't" and you notice the slither of seriousness that remains unmasked beneath his playful tone— you wonder why jaemin makes no effort to hide the solemnity of his words

but that's who he had always been, hot and cold, difficult to read, even more so to understand, he was confusing at best and so like most things with jaemin, you'd decided putting much thought to it wasn't your best idea, you would only be breaking your own heart.

"oh I didn't know it was different for me" you place a band aid against his wound, reaching to treat the next, your tongue poking out from between your lips causing jaemin to suddenly smile, eyes unwavering from the soft pink skin of your lip

between nights spent in his lousy apartment, cooped up in the illusive comfort of his arms and days spent with tear stained cheeks at the thought of being some disposable little thing in his life, you can't help but find yourself unsure of your place in his life

the acidity rising in your throat should be enough of a reality check for you to know the answer to your question, but self awareness had never been your strong suit.

at times he made you feel like the only girl in the world, most times he made no effort to acknowledge your existence, because jaemin was a man of two extremes

when he cared, or at least seemed to, he did so with his whole heart, and when he didn't— well you couldn't have felt any more worthless

right now his speech is sweet, like his voice is honey and his words are sugar-coated, you're intoxicated by the way his deep cologne overwhelms your senses, making your best attempt to filter out the cheap feminine scent that seems to have blended itself into his

"you know it is doll, everything is different with you" his voice reduces further into deeper whispers, words that hit your mind and soul all at once, heartbeat sounding somewhere in the background as the words echo in your mind

you shake your head.

jaemin had always been adventurous with his words, he was bold to say the least, meaning you knew to take his words with a pinch of salt, or two— however many were necessary really.

honestly speaking, you know you'd believe anything that came out of his mouth— na jaemin could wake up one day and decide the sky was pink and the earth was flat and you'd take it as bible.

you suppose it's just integrated into your genetic coding or something, to be at his beck and call, to let the walls you build around yourself fall down every time, you would protect yourself from the whole world, but the harsh truth was, you couldn't protect yourself from him ,though you didn't mind all that much.

drunk on what little love he gave you, you find a sudden dizziness overwhelm you— the good kind that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside even if just for a moment.

"one of these days I'll leave you at the door to rot" your eyes roll at his words in an attempt to return to the playful mood, and jaemin knows you would never, but the brief mention of the possibility still makes him gulp, sound resonating in his ears

"never" he whispers, suddenly his eyes are glossy and his grip on the warm mug begins to loosen, the thought of losing you never having been one to cross his mind until now, you however, seem as unbothered as before

similar to most things in life, jaemin took you for granted.

but that was the thing, you were unlike anyone, anything, any part of his life— you were special.

jaemin knew you meant a lot to him, it wasn't a secret he tried to hide, not that he was particularly good at expressing it either, but the way your hair falls over your face as you concentrate on patching up his injuries and your skin glows under the dim light has jaemin wondering just how much you mean to him.

jaemin decides you mean the most to him, more than anyone else.

as a man of habit, he wonders what that would mean for these habits of his that you hated oh so much. very little, most probably. he had you amongst a thousand other wrapped around his finger, cast under his spell, deeply infatuated with him but somehow playing with you felt the most special.

that was the problem, you were special to him and as much as he enjoyed playing with fire, jaemin had never thought he'd find himself getting burnt.

you don't realise the silence that befalls the room, nothing but the soft buzz of the fridge or the flicker of the soon to fuse kitchen light mixed with your soft breaths— he had noticed they grew louder as you became more exhausted, guilt beginning to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, knowing he was keeping you awake

he was always a little selfish when it came to you, he knew that

your eyes land on jaemin, his flooding with something you can only hope is a feeling of warmth— anything but his usual sudden switch up before he'd announce he was leaving, only for you to see him the next time he got himself like this, a couple nights into the next week most probably, a routine you can't say you had appreciated, nor condoned

most things with jaemin were like this, short lived, and bittersweet, although the bitter part seemed more overpowering at times

you can't help but hold onto the little slither of hope that tonight will be different

"hey doll" his free hand cups your cheek, forcing your noticeably distant eyes into his—but instead of the icy cold stare you expect, you're met with fire, his eyes burning with promise

"hmm?" your eyes lock, "what's up?"

"never stop nagging at me, please" he sucks in a harsh breath, hoping you'll say something to stop him from completely losing control of his words and spilling every thought he's ever held back when it came to you, a lot really

but you only take a sip of the warm drink in your mug, the tones of dark cocoa and the traces of coffee so distinct.

the white foam spreading across your lip as you now decide to tend to the gash beneath his eyebrow, though jaemin sees it as an excuse to take ahold of your face between his fingers, thumb tracing over your upper lip

"cute" your wide eyes make him chuckle, noticing a small speck of white still resting on your lip

"would you look at that, I missed a spot" you find yourself being pulled further into his lap, legs messily sprawled across the couch along with his, you don't mind however, his pink glossy lips the only thing on your mind

you'd like to let him ruin you, make you his puppet, blind you with his warmth and make you his and only his. even if you were his little plaything, it didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as you were his.

"and what are you going to do about it nana, hmm?"

you let your nose rest gently against his, soft vanilla scent mixing with the deep musky cologne jaemin wore, you wonder how it manages to last throughout the day considering your perfumes lasted all of 5 minutes, at best

"whatever you'd like doll, just say the word and I'll do it"

"you promise?"

jaemin nods, "I promise" and he holds you tight, because like all things good in life, jaemin knows one day, he'll lose you too

as you pout your lips at his, a knowing smile in his eyes , the first aid box is long forgotten behind you and your lips fall atop each other, like they'd always meant to.

you can't help but wonder how long jaemin will stick to this promise of his, forever you hope, though you know better.

especially when his hot cocoa flavoured kisses, like the true essence of jaemin, were so damn bittersweet.

[anderscim]

welcome to wild theories with bagel

this one is… quite unlike the other posts as this is almost entirely speculation and probably has a lot of room for rebuttal

(it’s a theory after all)

this is mainly about teruko and her (possible) connection to the killing game.

take this with a grain of salt as always

//drdt prologue, chapter 1, and chapter 2 spoilers

// blood warning from about the second half of the post.

also i go on a giant tangent here. so quick warning about that as well

i’m just thinking back to this motive secret:

“How could I even select what secret to be your motive? Just about everything you’ve done in your life is worth killing for. This killing game is all your fault.”

as of now, we’ve been told (by David) that this was Xander’s secret, but I highly doubt it. for me, this is mainly because when everyone was sharing who’s secret they had at the 2nd trial, David hesitated and asked to go last—there’s really no reason to do that unless David wanted time to think about what to do and/or fully process the situation before taking action (plus going last would give David the added benefit of knowing whose secrets are already revealed).

not only that, Xander’s bonus episode and secret quote seems to imply that his secret is actually the one Min has (“You’re constantly blaming yourself for the death of your parents and siblings. It doesn’t matter that it’s not your fault, just that you didn’t go with them”). Xander’s survivor’s guilt seems to be a major motif for his character, so logically it would still be plausible for his secret to be related to the Chariton incident and his guilt.

in that case, who’s secret does David actually have?

unfortunately, it would be quite difficult to try to deduce this through that last sentence (and i don’t think i have to explain why), so i decided to go back to the first sentence—which implies that whoever this motive is about has too many secrets that they don’t want to remember and/or discuss.

i can clearly recall one character that explicitly mentions this:

i don’t recall anyone else saying something like this, but please correct me if someone did actually say something similar

additionally, each one of Teruko’s accidents that she’s survived as a result of her luck can become “secrets” that are worded to incriminate her and give her a motive to murder. after all, whoever wrote these secrets have done so in a way that paints the other characters in a bad light—there’s really no reason to exclude Teruko’s “secrets” from that treatment.

but if that were the case, is there a proper explanation as to why “this killing game is all [her] fault?”

as i’ve mentioned before, the secrets are specifically written in a way to incriminate the participants and taint their image. even Hu mentions this at one point:

and to be completely honest, if someone were to explicitly write that a killing game was a specific character’s fault, it would probably be to throw the cast off. it would be extremely imprudent to specifically implicate someone as a potential mastermind otherwise. after all, that’s essentially putting the entire killing game at stake.

however, despite the fact that these secrets are written to implicate the cast, most of them do have factual evidence to justify some part of it.

here’s where i get into wild theory territory:

what if Teruko is indirectly responsible for the killing game, just not in the way that we’d think?

let me elaborate on how this could actually happen (and this is gonna get long):

think back to the opening scene of the prologue. whoever it was that was injured here, they seemed very… determined to end the killing game “all by [themselves].” or kill teruko.

// (pink) blood warning from here on out

•

•

•

from here i’m going to pay a lot of attention to specific wording and such so please take this with a grain of salt

oh also this is gonna go on a tangent lmao

as seen here it seems that Teruko and the killing game are directly correlated to each other. this person here says that even if the killing game doesn’t end, Teruko must die—which seems to imply that her death could be a possible solution to the killing game, even if it is eventually revealed to not be one. after all, in a situation like this it wouldn’t make sense for this person to mention two seemingly separate things one after another if they weren’t related to each other somehow.

also this might just be me, but i just wanted to bring attention to this line:

“all by myself… i must end this killing game.”

this implies that whoever this person is, they want to end this killing game independently, by their own effort. specifically asking Xander to kill Teruko with no justification or reason why, in that case, doesn’t really make sense as it’s entirely dependent on the decision and whims of another person.

and besides, this may again just be me, but Xander mentions how he needs to “trust in [him]self” that killing Teruko would be worth it:

this may imply that Xander attempted to murder Teruko out of his own instinct, and/or Xander deduced that the person who wrote that note to kill Teruko was himself. whether that’s because that note was in his own handwriting, or something from his memories told him so, i’m not sure.

also, recall the fact that some of the cast’s memories have been removed. for example, Xander doesn’t actually recall when he lost his eye.

someone else said this in a YouTube comment (that i unfortunately cannot find, but i’ll see if i can find the screenshot and put it here later), but—in that original prologue cutscene, there’s a fork under the person’s hand.

Xander’s eye injury, as we saw in chapter 1, has indents on it that look similar to claw marks. but based on those indents, it is actually plausible that those injuries were done by something similar to that fork (the fork in the prologue cutscene has four prongs, and the injury seems to have been caused by something that had four,,, uhh, prongs/claw bones). however this is purely speculation so this may be entirely wrong.

if this does happen to be correct, though, this could possibly imply that Xander was the person in the prologue cutscene. in that case, it is possible that Xander himself wrote the note to kill Teruko.

trusting “himself” to kill Teruko would, in that situation, actually make sense.

but as we know, killing Teruko is a challenge in on its own, whether that’s by attempting to incriminate her or attempting to directly murder her. she even declares this herself.

actually, little side note: “no matter what” is seen in both this scene and the prologue cutscene—and they’re highlighted in both cases. just thought it was interesting because it gives off “unstoppable force meets immovable object” vibes lmao

though this could definitely be more important than it seems right now

this has been kind of true. in the first chapter, we saw Teruko almost getting killed multiple times, and her surviving all of them. first with Xander attacking Teruko, second with Min attempting to frame Teruko to ensure her own survival (and don’t forget about the detail of two people voting for Teruko for some odd reason—not sure why, but this could suggest that someone other than Xander was aware of this situation? that’s the current weak point of my theory, unfortunately). so as far as we can tell, attempting to kill Teruko proves to be very difficult as her luck carries her though each incident, even if she didn’t want to survive them. it almost seems like an impossible feat with the amount of luck she has.

the thing is, the fact that killing Teruko is nearly impossible adds to my personal theory: “what if the killing game is only running because Teruko is alive? what if killing her effectively ends the killing game?”

look i can explain it okay

as far as we can tell, Teruko actually has a lot of advantages compared to the others in the killing game:

her distrusting nature makes her less vulnerable to being lured into a trap

her luck. that’s all i have to say

MonoTV is giving her some advantages himself, which seems a little… suspicious.

okay on second thought let me elaborate on that last bullet

think back to ch2 ep2-3. MonoTV is the one that asked Teruko to do some chores for him in exchange for MonoCredits—which are essentially tokens that allow Teruko to get others to leave her alone.

what’s interesting here is, MonoTV doesn’t set any restrictions on when she can’t use them (although that could be just because Teruko cut him off). in that case, couldn’t she theoretically use one if she’s about to get murdered or something?

and I also find it weird that MonoTV asks Teruko specifically (as well as follows her around) to do that chore. since there were so many other people that Teruko talked to when MonoTV was still following her, he technically could’ve walked up to anyone. therefore, it could be a possibility that MonoTV intentionally did that to give her an advantage.

just me? okay

anyways what i’m trying to say here is that the series itself seems to be gradually giving Teruko more advantages and opportunities that prevent her from being killed. although that could point to her being the mastermind, i kind of explained with the secrets why that seems unlikely.

but if my theory of “killing Teruko will end the killing game” proves to be correct, the true mastermind actually benefits from giving these added advantages to Teruko—it makes it harder for Teruko to be killed, which effectively keeps the game running.

which indirectly makes Teruko responsible for the killing game—by literally just being alive.

this. uh. was a lot of small speculation and details. that could probably be proven wrong.

besides we’re only mid-ch2 at the time of writing this

so feel free to refute me on ANY of these points—i will listen. for all i know i could be wildly wrong

and as always, take this with a grain of salt.

[ourolite2]

　　　　　　 ༅ 𝒞irce 𝒴ué'li 𐙚 ˙

♱ all sobriquets + pseudonyms. ࿓ fang/master yuè’li ( legendary title + formal title ), circo/mr. circo ( playful + respectful, via yashmi ), sir ( his dogs + formal others ), sir circe/ sir yuè’li ( formalities/commonly respectful ).

ᰍ overall notables. plays an electric guitar (named it delune). has a bloodhound named babydoll and a doberman named yìzé. works as a part-time music teacher for 2nd - 3rd graders. asanbosam’s (the type of vampire he is) are more agile in trees and high places, so he’s kind of clumsy otherwise. often recommends products (notably the brand anzhong, originated by an upcoming oc of neso’s), random cleaning tips, or even seasonings. considers calling off of work a lot, though he knows if he does they’re bound to fire him this time. circe also doesn’t socialize too much, and he’s very territorial about his cottage (and so is yìzé— wonder where he gets that from). he’s a little too territorial actually, seeing as circe usually sucks the blood of/eats any trespassers that ignore his precaution signs. he does so by jumping down from the roof of the cottage or a tree and pinning them. (even friends get tackled if they don’t give him a heads up that they’re on the way!) ᰍ standard physical facts. 6'3. retractable wings with a 20 foot span, which are black and grey with red, pink and silver undertones, and retractable iron hooks for feet. tips of his hair turn auburn when he’s experiencing intense emotions. always smells like anzhong products- particularly colognes. has a chinese tattoo on his inner forearm that translates to damu héxián qín. his nails are painted black, but they get chipped easily because he’s really hands-on daily. lastly, he has a deep, relaxed and very distinctive voice which can be heard here!

დ genshin au notables! n/a ( temporarily ). დ spider-verse au notables! n/a ( temporarily ). დ jujutsu kaisen au notables! n/a ( temporarily ).

ᰍ age appearance. twenty-five ( 25 ). ᰍ birthday. may 9th. ᰍ nationality, race, + ethnicity. ( varies per au ), asanbosam, + senegalese and chinese. ᰍ gender, prns, + sexuality. male (amab), he/him, + omnisexual.

ᰍ sun sign. taurus. ᰍ MBTI. istp-a, the assertive virtuoso.

ᰍ likes. his electric guitar (delune— yes, he named her); playing the guitar is considered his biggest hobby, adoration and talent. his old doberman, yìzé, and his bloodhound babydoll. his cottage. alone time. blood oranges. ironically, loves garlic bread + garlic based dishes (especially pasta). scaring trespassers, or making his friends jump with jump-scares and shoulder-taps for a good laugh. coal black, wine red, and sometimes pink! strawberry icecream. philosophy and sacred music, especially within the selenian race. feminism. boots. silver jewelry. having his hands in aesthetically pleasing positions (pockets, behind his head while laying down,arms crossed, etc). anzhong products. people who use manners. sweethearts, but especially male sweeties (he just wants to pinch their cheeks ugh). MOTHAFUCKING INDIGO! <;3 ᰍ dislikes. random space invaders/leeches. too many home guests (or any really). yellow. stalkers/yanderes/yandere-coded people (specifically when targeted at him). pushy people. paranoia, pessimism + assumptions. difficult/slow learners (as a music teacher he struggles with younger kids that don’t process so easily). jellies and jams. the taste of vanilla. misogyny and misandry. bad hair days. getting stuff under his nails, especially when freshly done. vengeance, gossip + untrustworthiness. cooking for people, especially when there’s a lot of em’— no, even worse if they’re too picky.. bicycling. hot, summer days. being caught in the rain without a stylish umbrella. loud noises. dogs that bark too much.

･ﾟﾟ❥ quotes.

After It Rains ୨୧ “Jeez, what a mud bath. *Looks at his dogs.* Glad you two are out of your piglet puppy days heh heh. Guys? *Theyre walking away from him and he’s holding back laughter.* Was it something I said? Come ahhnn! I’m saying you liked the mud!”

About Jihane ୨୧ “The last time we spoke she foretold that my aura was yellow indefinitely. She was wrong. .. It’s red. *Looks off at something in the distance and pauses.* I’m not delusional.”

About Circe: Signature Dish ୨୧ “Nah. That’s a myth, just a little misconception. I use garlic in a lot of my dishes, especially pasta. The best kind I’ve tried thus far? Cherub Sin, easily. It’s a faultless dish. I personally believe the best noodle for any garlic and parmesan pasta is angel hair, and that dish recognizes it perfectly.”

Good Night ୨୧ “Hm.. Remember the night routine I showed you. Ice. Your. Face. Top priority, right? Alright then, and I bid you goodnight. *Nods off salute-like with two fingers and walks away.*”

oc masterlist. extended details. visualizer.

⑅ leman productions. all rights fucking reserved, do not plagiarize.

[cornus27florida]

Favorite Fan Theory ? CPC - a meta post

Another 'independent' post of QnA

COLOR THEORY !!! - I try to uniting those theories from whatever sources & multiple people's quote/opinion at once

Starting from the TC at the episode 133th "After the Gala" - one of few examples when comment section is good :

From here, we moved on to color scheme circle + meaning :

In this post - We will only (to limiting the length of the post so not overboard, but feel free to talk about others!!) talking about character that mentioned in that comment thread [which also becoming the Top Comment of episode 133th] which are and the meaning of their color motif :

^ Color comparison between characters, while Jack's color is combination of all of his children (espc during his youth) so even thou he's mentioned but won't be talking about it

Maria/Beckett/Suzanna/Lance : Shades of Blue (primary)

Blue is often associated with sadness (melancholy) in the English language. Blue is also used extensively to represent calmness and responsibility. Blue is also associated with peace and has spiritual and religious connotations in many cultures and traditions (for example, the Virgin Mary is generally depicted wearing blue robes).

Light blues can be friendly. Light blues are often relaxed and calming. Bright blues can be energizing and refreshing = Maria, Suzanna (the Female IMHO on light shade, while the men color motif [Lance and Beckett] on darker shade)

Dark blues are more strong and reliable = Beckett, Lance

Blaine: Red (primary color)

Red is a very hot color. It’s associated with fire, violence, and warfare. It’s also associated with love and passion. In history, it’s been associated with both the Devil and the (love) Cupid. Red can actually have a physical effect on people, raising blood pressure and respiration rates. It’s been shown to enhance human metabolism, too.

Red can be associated with anger, but is also associated with importance (think of the red carpet at awards shows and celebrity events). Red also indicates danger (the reason stop lights and signs are red, and that warning labels are often red).

Outside the western world, red has different associations. For example, in China, red is the color of prosperity and happiness. It can also be used to attract good luck. In other eastern cultures, red is worn by brides on their wedding days. In South Africa, however, red is the color of mourning.

Lorena: (light) Purple (secondary color)

Purple is a combination of red and blue and takes on some attributes of both. It’s associated with creativity and imagination, too. In design, dark purples can give a sense wealth and luxury. Light purples are softer and are associated with spring and romance. In Thailand, purple is the color of mourning for widows. Dark purples are traditionally associated with wealth and royalty, while lighter purples (like lavender) are considered more romantic.

Jamie : Pink (secondary color with the aspect of 'white' neutrality)

The color of frivolity (lack of seriousness; lightheartedness.) lives between red and white. Pink takes all the passion and energy of red and tempers it with the purity of white, leaving us with the color of tenderness and affection. Pink has been definitively linked to toning down aggression, and its use in holding cells for violent criminals has been quite effective. Some sports teams have even painted opposing teams locker rooms pink in an attempt to reduce aggression. Pink is such an effective mood regulator that too much of it can by physically draining. Dark pinks have effects similar to red–heightened emotions, while pale pinks are more soothing.

Leland : Monochrome color of Black and White (Neutrality)

Black is the strongest of the neutral colors. On the positive side, it’s commonly associated with power, elegance, and formality. On the negative side, it can be associated with evil, death, and mystery. Black is the traditional color of mourning in many Western countries. It’s also associated with rebellion in some cultures, and is associated with Halloween and the occult.

White is at the opposite end of the spectrum from black, but like black, it can work well with just about any other color. White is often associated with purity, cleanliness, and virtue. In the West, white is commonly worn by brides on their wedding day. It’s also associated with the healthcare industry, especially with doctors, nurses and dentists. White is associated with goodness, and angels are often depicted in white. In much of the East, however, white is associated with death and mourning. White flag will stands if there's funerals in some part of the east countries. In India, it is traditionally the only color widows are allowed to wear.

Gwendolyn/Frederick: Green -> also will telling Fred's jacket

^ Although the same color motif but we know Gwen and Fred has different shade color of green, with Frederick's green is more darker while Gwendolyn's green more lighter.

Green is a very down–to–earth (humbling) color. It can represent new beginnings and growth. It also signifies renewal (rebirth) and abundance (wealth). Alternatively (in connotation sense), green can also represent envy or jealousy, and a lack of experience.

Green has many of the same calming attributes that blue has, but it also incorporates some of the energy of yellow. In design, green can have a balancing and harmonizing effect, and is very stable.

Brighter greens are more energizing and vibrant, while olive greens are more representative of the natural world. Dark greens are the most stable and representative of affluence (the state of having a great deal of money; wealth).

--------------Frederick's Trademark TM Plaid Jacket-----------

I noticed that Frederick's jacket's color changes throughout the story - I don't know if that's intentional from LambCat OR really just happens.. but one thing for certain based on my observation, the more the story progress - the more darker is (and even 'murkier') his plaid 'jacket' cloth become. Mono giving idea that it correlates with Frederick knowledge about the 'arranged' marriage and now I feel that's very likely!

* The Plaid cloth in early season (dark green with 'white'ish element) : Frederick is oblivious (the 'white'ish element) to the marriage plan, and His "jealousy" element which come from how envious he is that the fiancee for his brothers are 'beautiful' while he feels he got the short stick one.

* When the story progress, so does Frederick's feeling. For example look at when Prez holding his jacket Sleeve at CPC season 3 : his jacket is darker than the one when he unintentionally scratched Gwen's hand to bleed - this the starting point (based on his flashback in ep 145 when he remembering Gwen) for him fell in love with Gwen. At Gwen's dinner party, he feels the meeting with Gwen is actually the starting point of good things happened to him

Forward to the final season of CPC espcially in the aspect of Frederick's knowledge about the marriages of Plaid/Pastel

^ Frederick desperation to reaches out the Pastel Princesses espc Gwen again, but got halted by Leland at the end of gala

* After the end of gala when he realized that the marriage likely 'just part of scheme for his kingdom', we see his jackets that left in his wardrobe (and Jamie picked up) has darker color than the ones we see at season 3 - the darker shade more like becomes 'murkier' a bit = correspondes with Frederick's wariness when at the end of the gala - his father and brothers not correcting about the marriage isn't an act

* and even more murky-er which evidence in his Teddy bear, the final color change happened right after he got confirmed by his own father that the engagement is indeed a fake.

Frederick's green plaid jacket color changes theory is very much thanks to the HEX CODE identifier of this website :

Ciao everyone, me leaving but open to your lovely thoughts like on the reblog tags xD ~bye byeeeee

[necromatador]

I'm Here, I'm Here

Wordcount: 1485 words Rating: PG-13 at least Warnings: Attempted murder, bigotry, descriptions of blood/injury/stabbing/and magical healing. Summary: An encounter earlier in their time living in Gallecross finally brings Jazakhza and Alkimos closer.

The day started out so nicely. Jazakhza was making a simple appearance on stage at a dedication ceremony for a new construction in East-Side he'd helped fund. It was only the second such project he'd helped with. Even though a lot of the philanthropy was to distract the average observer and enhance his reputation as a shining beacon of the community, he was proud of being able to do this. He sat respectfully in the row of chairs on the stage, Alkimos dutifully sitting beside him, both glamoured for appearance purposes. They both pretended to listen as Governor Trevill gave her speech about the joys of life in the East-Side and the promises of working together as a community and all that other quote-able political nonsense. Then the governor's speech was over and in the applause she stood aside and gestured to him. Jazakhza stood and gave Alkimos a gesture to stay seated as he moved forward to the podium to speak.

His speech began fine, banal comments about how he longed to give back what he could to this wonderful community that had been so welcoming and supportive of him, but halfway through there was a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. It all happened in seconds. A fieldfolk leapt the stage, something glinting metallic in his hand. Before anyone could react he'd rushed Jazakhza, grabbing the glamoured fablefolk in a tight arm-lock.

"NO MONSTERS WITHIN THE WALLS!" the fieldfolk bellowed, and Jazakhza felt the cold, sharp sensation of a blade sliding into his side. There was a blossoming of pain, and the depersonalization of sensation between his glamour and his true form meant it took him a split second to realize that the dagger had gone up through his ribs and would've punctured his lung. Unfortunately for the would-be assassin, that wasn't where Jazakhza's lung actually was. Also unfortunately for the would-be assassin, he was now in close proximity to a predator at least a dozen times his weight. Jazakhza's reaction was almost faster than the crowd's, and he could hear the wave of gasps and the beginnings of shrieks in near slow-motion as he twisted and contorted within his glamour. And then the fieldfolk was gone, swept aside by one massive paw with delicately pink painted and razor-sharp claws. Jazakhza stood there, chest heaving with adrenaline and exertion, glamour flickering out of existence as he stood there as a full manticore. A thick rivulet of blood streamed down his side; damn, it was still a good stab even if it missed any major organs. The crowd was panicking and the safety officers from the governor's retinue were starting to filter people out as safely and quickly as possible. Alkimos rushed over, his glamour falling apart around him like dissolving crepe-paper, and quickly ushered the still shocked Jazakhza off the stage and back into the prep-area tents.

"Jazakhza!" came a cry, and Jaz turned to find the source, his mind still swimming as if through a thick fog. Governor Trevill ran up to them, barely flinching as Alkimos moved to block her from the injured manticore.

"We have medical staff waiting," she replied, gesturing over to the side.

"He'll be going home," Alkimos growled. "He'll be treated there."

"I would prefer to leave," Jazakhza added quietly, his voice shaking embarrassingly. "My presence here may only make things worse. Your security already has its hands full."

"Very well..." the governor replied, hesitating as she sized up the pair and Jazakhza's injury. "We will contact you to organize a statement on this. Please, take care." She nodded to them and Alkimos wasted no time in steering Jaz away, down side-streets and alleyways, away from the commotion and crowds. In a dizzy thought flitting through the back of his mind, Jazakhza was glad for the adrenaline rush he was in the midst of, because every quick hint of the blood soaking his side and every quick pinprick of pain as he moved assured him that without the adrenaline in his system he would not be moving nearly so fast as he was. If he could've even moved at all. The streets blurred and faded into each other, Alkimos diligently steering him home. The edges of his vision were coming into sharper focus. Pawsteps on the stone streets were beginning to jar up his legs and into his burning side. He felt the strangest combination of cold and warm as blood dribbled forth and cooled dry on his fur. The manticore began to lean onto his sphinx for support as they went.

Finally they made it to their headquarters, and slipped carefully in the side entrance that led to their living quarters. Entering the room that served as the bedchambers, he collapsed onto one of the many piles of pillows throughout, desperate to be off his paws as the world came back into focus and his side began to bite him back with pain.

"I'll be right back," Alkimos grunted, voice sounding oddly tight. Or maybe it wasn't? Jazakhza still wasn't hearing things entirely correctly as the last of the adrenaline drained from his system and he gave a huff of soreness and relaxed as best he could onto the soft cushions beneath him. The soft padding of Alkimos' paws came back quickly, accompanied by the thunk of a tub and the soft clink of a jar being set on the floor beside him. He cracked his eyes open to watch Alkimos, whose face was now tense with concentration and some amount of anger or...frustration? Slowly and impossibly gently, Alkimos began to clean off the wound and rinse the blood from Jaz's fur.

"Ah, time for a spa treatment," Jaz joked weakly, attempting to lighten the mood. Alkimos did not laugh. Jazakhza hissed as the healing treatment began to seep into the injury, burning like the spice of a pepper when it's accidentally rubbed into your eyes. The bleeding slowed and gradually the sharper pain in his muscles began to numb to a dull ache. It was always an odd feeling when a cut was magically healed. An itch, but not an itch. Alkimos left a few times to refresh the water in the tub, and Jaz was pleased to see it go from red to pink to clear with each rinse. Or perhaps 'relieved' was more correct. It had apparently been more serious than he'd thought.

"That's much better," Jazakhza finally spoke up. "You can stop fretting over me, Alkimos." The sphinx did not react. Carefully he examined the closing wound on the manticore's side.

"Alkimos, I'm fine," Jaz said again, giving a small curse as Alkimos spread one last bit of strong-smelling and vaguely burning healing salve on the rapidly receding cut. "It's healed and it's fine. You can stop fretting over me like-"

"Shut up!" Alkimos snarled, baring his teeth in Jaz's face. "You were attacked! You could have died! You would have if that fieldfolk knew what he was doing!" Jaz's eyes widened as he looked into the sphinx's irate face. Was that a glint of...fear in Alkimos' eyes? With an angry huff, Alkimos turned away from Jazakhza and began to pack up the medical supplies he'd brought in. Hesitantly, Jazakhza rose from the pillows and padded up behind Alkimos, bumping his shoulder affectionately into the larger sphinx's.

"I didn't die, Alkimos," Jaz murmured. "I was hurt, but you were there to help me."

"I should've been fast enough to stop him from even getting to you," Alkimos grumbled. "I should've gone up to the podium with you. You would never have been hurt in the first place."

"We had no way of knowing that would happen, Alkimos," Jaz said as he pressed his forehead beneath Alkimos' jaw in an attempt at comfort. Alkimos leaned into the caress. "You can't be so hard on yourself for not being able to read the future."

"I was scared..." Alkimos muttered. "Scared of losing you too..." He didn't say anything more, but Jaz felt the echo of those words ripple through his mind with a sharpness almost as keen as the knife that had pierced his side earlier. They were all that the other had. The weight of that heavy loneliness bore down on the manticore's shoulders. He pressed his face harder into Alkimos' curly mane. They stood there a while until Alkimos' legs began to shake, the sphinx's adrenaline finally crashing as well. The pair sank to the floor, refusing to give up contact with each other. The warmth of their bodies was more of a comfort than any words between them could be.

And then Alkimos curled back around, craning his neck, and pressed his lips to Jazakhza's. He pulled away sheepishly moments later, leaving Jaz briefly stunned before the manticore closed the distance between them once more. 'I'm here' the desperate kiss said. 'I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.'

[kenharu]

: ̗̀➛ name: ito kenji

: ̗̀➛ killer name: poison

: ̗̀➛ from harajuku, japan

: ̗̀➛ 26 years old [10.26, scorpio] / 6'3" / bisexual / he/him

: ̗̀➛ undecided, owner of and dating seven; dating @evicted-oc Baldr [their good puppy] [dating with seven], uninterested

: ̗̀➛ occupation: english professor in a collage

: ̗̀➛ appearance: medium length hair, red for now [tends to dye it a lot], honey hazel eyes, has a very deep deep voice, nails always painted, always wearing mask, punk clothes unless when at work

: ̗̀➛ personality: possessive, cold, doesn't talk much, very very quiet, nothing really bothers him, takes really specific things to get him annoyed, hates people, they make him super anxious and slightly irritated

: ̗̀➛ killer type: inspired by the original ghostface, he's the one who does the actual killing most of the time, his go to is a stab in the back or also likes a gunshot to the head; he might make calls from time to time

: ̗̀➛ likes: knives, guns, darkness, reading, horror movies, silence, black, solid black, blood, coffee, secretly has a sweet tooth

: ̗̀➛ dislikes: people, too much light, any movie that isn't a horror movie, pink

: ̗̀➛ favorite scream quote: [what do you want?] "to see what your insides look like."

: ̗̀➛ nsfw: hard dom; size kink, gun play, blood play, knife play, shibari [giving], gagging [giving], choking [giving], wax play, bdsm, impact play [giving], rimming [giving], oral [receiving], dirty talk [giving], praise [receiving], burning [giving], multiple rounds, overstim [giving], hair pulling [receiving && giving], toys [giving], begging, spit play, he is open to most kinks but prefers harder kinks, he will only sub if he is in the right head space

: ̗̀➛ faceclaim: @/hyoga.x

[wish-i-wasnt-a-coward]

Family Cuddle Pile

a/n: I actually wrote this a while ago but it was perfect for the request. Theirs like, no content for this ship an I love it so much! Thank you for reading :) @arodynamic-enby

Pairings: romantic Anxceitmus and kid!Patton also super background Logince

Warnings: tattoos, less than ideal parent mentions, food mention, and light cursing

Word count: 1,844 

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

Remus flopped out of bed, throwing his body carelessly across the room. He hastily threw on his clothes. Short shorts, ripped fishnets, a vest that was more patches than original material, really big clunky shoes, and a ripped up band-t. He also hooked his favorite bone earrings in his tattered earlobes. 

He stomped into his apartment’s kitchen. He grabbed a stale piece of bread he soaked it in coffee. Yawned and grabbed his bag, racing out the door. 

His brother was waiting for him at the tattoo shop, sketching a new idea. Unlike him, Roman only had a few tattoos, including not one, not two, not three… but three Disney quotes, a frog on a mushroom, a rose on his arm, and a constellation. Most of his tattoos were covered by tasteful burgundy overalls and a white button-down shirt.

Remus’ tattoos were also mostly covered by his clothes. But he had a tattoo sleeve depicting the garden of Eden, a matching frog on a mushroom, a quote from one of Roman’s books, medically accurate bone structures on his hand, a realistic spider on his neck, and a snake wrapping around his non-sleeved arm. And those were just the visible ones. 

Suffice to say, the twins were very different. 

Remus threw his bag onto the floor in the backroom, “Ro, when’s the first appointment!!” he yelled. “Your’s? At 11. FYI, Jan n’ Pat are coming over at 12, for motivation” Remus smiled, fuckin’ superb. 

He busied himself in collecting the ink and preparing the tattoo gun. The client wanted a fucking orange on their wrist, it should only take an hour or two but Remus was not excited to do a frickin’ orange circle. 

The prissy orange bitch came in and Remus got to work. They didn’t move much and only cried a little bit when the needle started jabbing at their skin. Remus liked this part of the process, stabbing people consensually was his favorite thing ever… also the art part but stabbing people!

Almost exactly an hour later the door jingled open. “Dada!!” a tiny voice called back into the store. “I’ll be there in a minute patty-cake” Remus called from his spot hunched over the client's arm.

He added the final touches to the fruit and helped the orange bitch off the chair. Roman swept the client away, Remus practically ran to greet his partner and son.

Janus wore a leather corset over a black collared shirt and baggy pants, their long platinum hair framed their face under their signature hat. They were holding hands with a toddler wearing mostly pink and blue, his blond hair (that matched Janus’) was a mop of curls barely held together by a few butterfly clips. 

“Dada, Dada!!! I got you a flower” the little boy cried, letting go of Janus’ hand and stumbling towards the tall man who scooped him up. Patton giggled and held out a sweaty flower clenched in his chubby fist. 

Remus accepted the flower with a gasp, ”this is really for me?” he said joyfully. Adjusting the small boy in his arms Remus turned towards Janus who was looking at the pair with a disgustingly sappy expression. 

“What are you lookin’ at hot stuff?” Remus teased. “Shut it you,” Janus said, pressing a kiss to Remus’ check. Patton made a noise, “icky” he said pushing Janus away. They laughed, “yes darling, we’re very icky”. 

“When’s verge-“

“he’ll be home at 4” 

“Dope”

“Stop by the Sleepy Café before you bring Pat to the apartment?”

“Can do scootal-lo!” 

Remus turned back to the little boy in his arms, “looks like you're stuck with me squirt”. Patton beamed and snuggled into Remus’ chest. Janus smiled again, “I’ll see you, boys, at dinner,” they said, ruffling Pat's hair and peaking Remus on the lips quickly so as to not upset the toddler. “Bye-bye Janny!!” Patton called after Janus as they left for work. 

“Righty-o,” Remus said, carrying Patton into the back room. “I know Ro’s got a couple coloring books, wanna do those for a bit?” Patton nodded and reached towards the ground to be put down. Remus plopped Patton on the couch and pulled out the book and pens as well as a sketchbook off his own. They sat together coloring and drawing until Roman came back to hug Patton. 

“Ah, my favorite nephew!” Roman said, scooping up the little boy. Patton laughed and pulled Roman’s hair. “Roro, can I color your arm pictures??” he asked, pointing to Roman’s rose tattoo. Roman plopped the toddler back down on the couch and handed him a pen. 

Patton went to work on the rose, scribbling reds and pinks and greens across his arm. Roman gave him complements each time Patton paused, and each time Patton shushed him and went back to work. Remus finished up his sketch, adding it to the pile of tattoo ideas they were eventually going to put up-front, and sat next to the toddler. 

“That’s really good pat-” 

“Shhhhhhhh”

Remus nodded and mimed zipping his lips. He liked spending time with the kid. They weren’t biologically related but who gives a fuck about blood, unless it’s outside of your body, then it’s fun. 

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

“I don’ wanna” Patton wined his dad sighed “I know bubbles but we gotta go home to Papa and Janny, isn’t that fun” Patton considered this, “but Roro’s pretty arm picture” he argued. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Pffffff- Ummm, how about this, we go home now and I’ll take you back to the shop tomorrow after pre-school” 

Patton brightened considerably, “ok” he chirped. “up please” the toddler’s chubby hands reached towards Remus who obediently scooped him up with a coo. After all who was he to say no to uppy hands. 

“See ya tomorrow, have fun on your date with the nerd” Remus sang as he snatched his bag juggling the still fussy Patton in his other arm. “Fu- Frick off Re. Say hi to your partners for me,” Romans said affectionately and waved as his twin left the building. 

Remus happily trotted out into the road. The tattoo shop was located on a quaint little street in the more commercial segment of their town only a short walk from Janus’ job. 

A light drizzle floated around them and the air was warm and comforting. Patton squealed as a large drop of water hit him in the head, prompting a laugh from Remus.

A jingle sounded through the peaceful cafe, the brown room was illuminated by those cool old fashion lights and a lovely array of pastries made the air smell of chocolate and blueberry scones. But the scones, as delicious as they were, weren’t the snack Remus was here for

“Hey babe- Remus why are you soaking wet”

“Puddle” Patton screeched. 

“Kid’s right, Puddle.”

Janus pinched their eyebrows, “ya know what, I’m not even surprised anymore. Just make sure Patton doesn’t catch a cold” they scolded. 

Remus nodded and saluted in mock seriousness, “yes captain” he said and pressed a kiss to Janus’ face over the cash register, “I’ll see ya in a bit” Remus grinned and led Patton back out of the cafe. 

Janus sighed lovingly as they watched their boyfriend and son turn to cross the street, Patton’s hand clasped around Remus’ happily. “Stop looking so happy, you're scaring the customers” Remy teased from across the counter. “Ha, Ha,” Janus glared and went back to work” 

Janus’ apartment was a cute two-bedroom space on the fourth floor of the building. The furniture was an interesting combo of vintage and things from the side of the road. The vintage parts came from their parent’s house, their father had died two years after Janus’ had run away and hadn’t thought to write them out of the will. 

The three of them had made a date out of customizing the few pieces that Janus wanted to keep. The customization mainly included darkening everything and adding more gothic touches. Virgil had done the fabrics, Remus the painting, and Janus moral support/ director. 

The three partners had also painted the kitchen/dining room/living room black with one yellow wall. Janus and Virgil’s room was dark purple instead of black with highlights in the same yellow. Patton’s room was the only one that didn’t  look marginally like a cave. 

The walls were a cream-yellow that lit up in the morning sunlight. After Janus announced that they were going to have a baby Remus had spent three hours painting the grey ceiling with white fluffy clouds. It was one of his favorite projects. 

Patton of course had no regard for the work put into the entirety of his home and was the usual menace of a toddler. And today a toddler with cheerios, truly a sight even god would tremble before. 

Remus plopped down next to Patton who was pushing cheerios around his highchair tray with an intense focus. He smiled at the little boy and flicked on the tv, “got any requests pip-squeak?” Remus asked. Patton looked thoughtful, “dead lady!!” he cried excitedly hitting the tray with his fists, cheerios flew everywhere. Remus nodded, understanding, “Corpse bride coming up!” he picked a few cheerios from the couch “you really are Verge’s kid” 

When Janus got home Patton was curled up on Remus’s chest. Both slept soundly despite the dead folk on the screen in front of them singing about the wedding. 

Janus smiled, their family was fucking adorable. They slipped off their shoes and snuggled up into Remus who hummed happily and pulled Janus into the hug still asleep. 

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

Three hours later Virgil trudged up the four flights of stairs huffing indignantly with each step. Of course, he could take the elevator… but it might break down and he would be stuck for hours. Or someone could get into the elevator with him and he would have to interact with a stranger. So stairs it was. 

He rummaged around his baggy hoodie, running his fingers through his dark purple hair in annoyance when he couldn’t find the key. Once he found it Virgil carefully (as he did everything) opened the apartment door. His combat books clunked satisfyingly against the hardwood floors as he entered his house. Virgil felt the tension leave his muscles, he was home. He glanced across the room, looking for his family. 

Virgil’s face lit up like a god damned Christmas tree. 

Across the room, both his partners and his son were curled up sleeping happily. Drool covered Remus’ face and Janus was snoring, they were the most precious thing Virgil had seen all freakin day. 

The three of them woke as Virgil wrapped his arms around them, Patton squealed in excitement. “Hello, darling” Janus mumbled sleepily into Virgil’s arm. Remus just groaned and nestled into the hug. The toddler wriggled between his dads squealing profusely. “Shhh, s’ sleepy time” Remus mumbled, rolling deeper into the cuddle pile and shutting Patton up. 

Virgil smiled and pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “Mmm, love you” they purred. “Love you too Jan,” Virgil said, nestling his face in their neck. Virgil knew he would have to start dinner soon but that could wait, for now, cuddles.

[anyoneseenadam]

hello! may i request some azriel fluff 🥺 like mornings with him/ cuddling in bed, im in dire need of cute azzy fics. also i love 'home' it's actually the story that got me into reading acotar content!

pairing: azriel x reader (acotar)

warnings: pure fluff with a smidge of angst if you squint, mentions of blood/scars (very brief) but mainly just fluffy lovliness

a/n: okay so I kinda expanded on this a bit but it does have cuddling in a bed and mornings so I hope you like it! I’m always down for our boy getting some much needed love! 

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

It had been almost a month since you had seen Azriel. He was away on a mission for Rhys, always willing to follow his brothers orders even when your lip had wobbled at the sound of a month alone when he was in foreign territory undertaking dangerous tasks. A part of you felt guilty as he left, a pained expression on his face as he left you standing in the doorway, waving him off. You knew his job was hard and that he didn’t enjoy being away from you anymore than you did, but you couldn’t help but worry, especially after the missions where he came home with new scars and the darkness that you were working hard to rid him off returning to his eyes.

Tonight you were sat on your sofa, feet curled and a mug of steaming tea next to you as you flicked through a book. You had been reading the same paragraph for at least twenty minutes, the words not processing as your body reacted to the missing weight that would usually be curled against your side by this time of evening. Your gaze flittered over your home; perfectly clean as you had sought things to do while your heart was in another country, bookshelves lining the walls and paintings adorning any clear space on the walls. You closed your book, well worn as in your life you had read it many, many times. The pages had yellowed, and the spine was bent, yet the smell had remained and now as you read through it you could catch the notes Azriel had pencilled in when he had read it to please you. When you went to re-open it, unable to sit still, you smiled as it opened automatically on the most worn page, a quote circled and Azriel’s neat handwriting in the footnote, you traced your finger along the words, reading them with a soft smile.

              “No. No one likes being alone. But

              I’ve learned to live with it.” – now

              I have you I don’t believe I could

              ever be alone again. You could leave              

              me; steal my money, my heart, break

              me down and I would still come

              crawling back to you. You hold my heart

              now, please be gentle.

You felt tears sting your eyes as you read his words, the page already had tear stains from when you first saw the words, but now in the cold of your lonely house they sank in deeper. However, before you could wallow in your self-pity anymore, you heard the door push open quietly and quiet feet pad in, the tell-tale signs of someone who presumed you would be asleep, albeit it was nearing 1am. You quickly put your book down, standing and practically running to the door, grinning widely as you saw Azriel there, tugging off his boots with one hand braced against the wall. He looked up when he heard you and offered you a weak grin.

“You should be sleeping baby,” he smiled at you as you barrelled towards him, jumping into his arms.

“I can’t sleep alone anymore,” you muttered into his shoulder and he shook with a silent laugh, tightening his grip around your waist. You stayed in that position for a few minutes more before you slipped down, grabbing his hand, and tracing a thumb over the dark circles that surrounded his eyes, next to the dirt and dried blood that was drying and cracking in his hairline. “C’mon you stink.” You giggled leading him to the bathroom and turning the tap to fill the bath with warm water, sprinkling in salts that you swore would help, much to his manly grumbling. You turned and found him leaning on the door, eyes watching you carefully, taking you in as you moved to him and started helping him out of his clothes, tugging at the leather until it came down displaying his glorious body to you. Once he was naked you pushed him gently in the direction of the bath and he furrowed his eyebrows and made grabby hands when he realised you weren’t joining him, you just laughed and kissed him gently, promising to return soon as he began washing.

You moved to the living room first, grabbing your mug and taking a tentative sip, smiling when you found it at a drinkable temperature. Then you moved to your shared room, fluffing the duvet and pillows, and changing into one of his old shirts, then grabbing him some loose sweats and walking back to your bathroom, arms stacked. He was leaning his head against the edge of the bath when you re-entered and cracked open his eyes, smiling lazily at you through hooded eyes. You moved to sit beside him at the edge of the bath, taking a washcloth and gently wiping his face clean, before rinsing it off and moving it down his neck and chest, following with soft kisses pressed into his clean skin as he all but purred in delight.

When you finished you leaned your head on his arm, your sleepless nights without him catching up on you as you sipped your tea, breathing in the relaxing smell. You felt Azriel’s gaze on you and turned your head up to face him, he leaned down and pressed a longer kiss onto your lips, the two of you simply revelling in the taste of one another, lips and tongues languidly moving in tandem. When you pulled away he quickly washed his hair as you finished your tea, before standing and wrapping himself in a towel around the waist and draining the pink-tinted water, pulling faces at you in the mirror as you brushed your teeth in silence. Finally you fell into bed together, exhaustion creeping up on you as he wrapped you in his arms, kissing your head and holding you impossibly tight. ‘I love you’ whispered into the dark of the room as shadows settled around you.

When you woke, your legs were tangled in Azriel’s and you felt like a weight was lifted off you. You forgot the effect Azriel had on you when it came to sleep, he had a way of lulling you into a deep sleep that woke you up feeling better than ever and fully rested. You craned your head up to see Azriel still asleep, his face more restful than you remembered, the furrow between his brow smoothed and you couldn’t resist tracing it with your thumb as you admired him.

“Watching me sleep again?” You almost jumped at his gruff morning voice, but just huffed a laugh.

“Someone has to witness this beauty and I’m not big on sharing so…” You trailed off and he cracked an eye open, gaze filled with love. You leaned up and kissed him, neither of you caring about morning breath as you finally spent much needed time together again.

“I need to go see Rhys today, let him in on everything.” He whispered when you pulled away, resting you head on his chest.

“Not quite yet though,” you muttered.

“No, not quite yet.”

You woke for a second time a couple hours later as Azriel returned from the bathroom, slinging an arm over your waist, and pressing his chest to your back as he burrowed himself back under the covers and into the safe haven the two of you had created. He started leaving soft kisses down from under your ear and along your neck, moving over you shoulder with a soft hum as you drew patterns on his arms, clutching his hands in yours as you pressed them into your chest, against your heart.

You opened your eyes to look around the room and saw Azriel had opened your curtains, the light muted due to the fact there was snow falling outside, muffling all sounds except the ones created in your home, the soft whispers of Azriel’s kisses and your gentle breaths. You watched as a robin landed on a branch outside your windowsill, a small twig clutched in its beak. Such a small twig would go on to create a home for this bird, alike the small romance that had bloomed your and Azriel’s deep, unending love, turning the cold house you had been in the night before into the warm home you were in now.

“We should do some baking today,” you whispered to him, “maybe gingerbread.”

“Apple pie,” he muttered, his face buried in your neck.

“Isn’t that a bit on the nose?”

“I love apple pie,”

“What about Rhubarb crumble and homemade custard?” you asked, stifling a laugh at the pout you could practically hear from Azriel.

“Mmm you’re a genius.” He whispered, pressing a longer kiss into the crook of your neck.

“I know it’s a curse.”

“Not just yet though,” he repeated your words from earlier and you smiled.

“No, not just yet.”

[choerrypuffs]

my best friend wants to be abducted by aliens.

pairing: son of athena!renjun x daughter of aphrodite!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 14.6k (this was supposed to be 5k 😌)

author’s note: hi so here is renjun’s chapter to my 00 line x camp half-blood series (i’m sorry, i know it took forever)! thank you so much for all of the support, and i hope you enjoy 💞

warning: one (1) makeout session

You are currently crouched behind a cluster of bushes, trying to get a glimpse of your targets through binoculars. 

Does that sound stalkerish? Perhaps. 

Are you actually a stalker? Debatable. 

However, no matter how suspicious it looks, your motive is pure—for the most part. 

You’re spying on Kang Daniel (son of Hermes) and Park Jihyo (daughter of Apollo), both of whom are at the Archery Range. Jihyo is showing Daniel how to shoot, encasing him with her arms as she nocks the arrow for him. The tips of his ears are so red that they could practically be a flare; you can see how flamboyant they are all the way from your hiding spot. 

You start grinning like a maniac, excited that your plan is finally unfolding. 

You had noticed how awful Daniel was at archery during a training session a couple weeks ago, and you casually suggested to him that he should ask Jihyo for some lessons. You’ve always known that Daniel has been hopelessly in love with Jihyo since the moment he saw her (it’s a child of Aphrodite thing—you can just sense it), but she’s been oblivious to it this entire time. 

Well, until now. 

Just as you guessed, sparks flew immediately. You could cut the sexual tension between them with a knife. You give them a couple more passionately-charged archery lessons before they inevitably surrender to their emotions and begin to date—and your predictions are never wrong. 

“Another job well done, Y/N,” you mumble proudly to yourself, “Mom would be so proud.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m going to have to ask you to stop loitering by these bushes and stalking those two campers over there, or else I’ll have to report you to the camp director,” a sudden voice from behind you says. 

Letting out a loud yelp, you drop your binoculars in surprise and whip your head around to see who it is. You turn so fast that you almost fall backwards into said bushes, quickly using your palms to balance yourself. 

“Renjun, you asshole!” 

Huang Renjun, your long-time best friend and professional asshole, is standing in front of you. He’s wearing the iconic orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt with black jeans, his hands tucked inside his pockets. His dark hair is parted to one side, with a single lock of hair falling perfectly into one eye, giving him the I-wake-up-and-my-hair-is-naturally-like-this look (even though it’s most definitely not true). No doubt that he’s the best-looking person in the entire camp, but his brusque personality makes him a rose with thorns. Sharp thorns.

You often wonder how the two of you even became as close as you are. Children of Athena and Aphrodite notoriously clash due to their mothers’ history with each other. 

You met Renjun four years ago at Arts and Crafts Center, which is a hotspot for children of Athena. It was your first time at the camp, and you wanted to try making a ceramic (maybe a bowl or vase) to bring back to your family as a souvenir. Of course, you failed miserably and got snickered at by other Athena kids. Renjun, who had been sitting beside you, was the only one who didn’t laugh. He even gruffly gave you some pointers. Grateful, you complimented his painting—a mix of pink, yellow, blue, and purple watercolors that meshed together to resemble a galaxy. In return, he gave it to you.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” he had said nonchalantly.

Even though it was the most beautiful piece of art you’ve ever seen, and it’s remained one of your most prized possessions to this day. 

After that incident, you basically attached yourself at the hip with him. He would constantly complain about you following him around, but he also didn’t do anything to stop it. He’s been complaining for four, going on five, years now, yet he’s become your closest friend. Renjun likes act like you’re a pain in the ass (which isn’t untrue), but you know he cares about you. Even if he doesn’t verbalize it, you can tell by his actions; it’s all about the small things with him. Despite being rough around the edges, Huang Renjun is actually just a big softie on the inside. 

“—could you stop snooping around like a weirdo?” Renjun asks, cutting your trip down memory lane short.

You rise to your feet, dusting your palms off and glaring at him. “I’m not snooping around like a weirdo. I’m just snooping around on one of my projects, like a good matchmaker.”

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes. He leans down and picks up your binoculars, handing them to you. 

You take them and hang them around your neck. “Why are you here anyway?”

“Aren’t you the one who asked me to meet you at the Dining Pavilion for lunch?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh, sorry! I lost track of time,” you exclaim. “How’d you find me?”

Renjun gives you a pointed look. “Well, seeing as how Daniel and Jihyo are your current quote-unquote project, all I had to do was figure out where they were because I knew you’d be somewhere close.”

You give him a sheepish smile. “You know me so well, Junnie.”

“The hell? Don’t call me that, it’s gross,” he snaps, pretending like he’s about to gag.

“You’re not cute at all,” you huff. 

“Neither are you,” he replies.

“You are so rude! You’ll never get a girlfriend with an attitude like that!” You place your hands on your hips.

“I’ll live,” he says, shrugging. 

You don’t know much about Renjun’s love life because he refuses to tell you anything; he’s like a stubborn clam that won’t open up. However, he’s made it very clear that he does not want your assistance when it comes to finding romance. Obviously, it hasn’t stopped you from trying, but this is one of the few things you can’t seem to make him give in to. 

Yet.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “Let’s go eat.”

The two of you walk to the Dining Pavilion, which is a relatively long walk from the Archery Range, but you make enough conversation that it feels short. When you arrive, you see that they’re serving chicken curry and rice. Your stomach growls embarrassingly loudly when the mouthwatering scent hits you, which prompts Renjun to laugh at you. You give him the middle finger and then turn around to grab a lunch tray. Once you get your food, you two sit at a table in the back. 

Before you begin to eat, you notice that your curry has chunks of potatoes and slices of carrots on it—you abhor carrots more than anything in this world. Noticing your disgusted expression, Renjun slides his plate over without even batting an eyelash, so you can pick out the carrot slices and give them to him. It’s a routine thing for the two of you, since you’re an extremely picky eater and he’s not.

After you take out all of the carrots, you begin to devour your food. You’re wolfing it down so fast that you’re basically asking to choke, in which you immediately do. A piece of chicken lodges itself in your throat, and you begin to cough violently. Renjun sighs, patting your back before handing you your cup of water. 

“I feel like I’m babysitting a toddler every time I eat with you,” he points out as you gulp down your water. 

“Thanks,” you say after you recover.

“For dislodging the food in your esophagus or calling you a toddler?” 

“Both!” you say cheerfully. 

Renjun shakes his head at you, but he’s smiling. You take advantage of his good mood by quickly reaching over and swiping a couple of grapes from the fruit bowl on his tray. He rolls his eyes when you pop them into your mouth and wink at him. 

“Um, Renjun?” A small, different voice cuts in. Both of you turn around to see who it is. 

Hwang Yeji, daughter of Iris and one of the most popular girls at the camp, is standing there. She’s fidgeting, and you can see pink dusting her cheeks. Her friends are at the table right behind her, giving her supportive looks. She smiles shyly at Renjun. 

“Can I help you?” Renjun asks, deadpanning. He isn’t rude per se, but it’s also not a friendly tone. 

Yeji slightly falters at his lackluster response. “Oh, um, I’m going to be performing at the amphitheater tonight...and I was wondering if you could come watch?”

“Why?” 

You know Renjun is asking because he’s genuinely baffled, but it doesn’t lessen your urge to want to slap him upside the head.

“N-No particular reason! O-Okay, bye!” Yeji turns on her heel and runs away. You watch her go back to her table, head hung low in defeat.

“What was that all about?” Renjun is still bewildered. 

No longer able to control yourself, you punch him in the arm. “You moron!”

“Ow! What the hell, Y/N?” he hisses, rubbing his arm.

“She invited you to watch her perform because she likes you!” you hiss. 

“What? No, she doesn’t.” He furrows his eyebrows. 

“Yes, she does! I should know of all people, you dingus. Even without powers, literally anyone else would be able to see that Yeji likes you!” You’re trying your best to keep your voice down, but he’s making it difficult for you. “You are the densest person on the planet!”

“Look who’s talking,” Renjun mutters underneath his breath. 

“I can’t believe you just blew her off like that,” you continue, not hearing what he said.

“How was I supposed to know she liked me? I’ve never even spoken to her,” he protests.

You stare at him in disbelief. “Couldn’t you tell by the context clues?” 

“What context clues?”

“Oh my gods,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“What do you want me to do then?” he asks tiredly. 

“Go to her performance tonight,” you say immediately, uncovering your face and whipping your head to look at him with a hopeful expression.

“I don’t really want to though. There’s no point in getting her hopes up if I don’t like her back,” Renjun states matter-of-factly.

“How do you not even have a little bit of interest in her? Look at her! She’s stunning!” You feel like your eyes are about to pop out of your head.

“I’m not saying she isn’t, but I just don’t feel anything special towards her,” he explains. 

“You’re actually insane,” you say incredulously. “There’s no way someone can look at Hwang Yeji and say they don’t feel anything special.”

“If you feel so strongly about it, you could date her,” he suggests.

“No, I’ve decided,” you cut him off, slamming your hand on the table with determination. “I’m going to find you a girlfriend.”

“I’ll have to respectfully decline your services,” he answers, sighing.

“Give me one week,” you plead, “all of my matches have worked out within a week. Please, Renjun? The worst thing that can happen is that you actually like someone and you two become a couple.” 

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” He tilts his head.

“Then, I’ll drop the girlfriend topic for good. I swear on River Styx. And I’ll also give up my title as Camp Half-Blood’s official matchmaker,” you promise.

“You gave yourself that title.”

“Shut up.”

“Why are you so adamant on finding me a girlfriend anyway?” he asks.

“Because you’re so set on not getting a girlfriend, and that drives me crazy. I want to know just who on this Earth can make you feel something special, if even Yeji can’t do it. I want to crack you, like a walnut,” you admit.

“Bad analogy.”

“Yeah, it sounded better in my head.”

Renjun falls quiet, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs the pros and cons of your proposition. Athena kids think way too much and way too loudly; they need to let loose and follow their hearts more.

You sit in anticipation for just a little longer before you see the tension on his face begin to dissipate and his features begin to droop. It’s an expression you know well; he’s going to let you have your way, like he always does. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “You get five days. That’s it.”

You squeal loudly, launching yourself at him so you can envelop him in a big bear hug. He grunts as he catches you, saving the both of you from toppling backwards onto the floor. “You’re the best, Renjun!”

Even when he’s irritated or annoyed, Renjun never pushes you away when you hug him. He isn’t exactly the affectionate type, yet his embrace is always so warm and calming. His words may be cutthroat, but his actions are always gentle.

He circles his arms around your waist loosely as he sighs into your hair, seemingly waiting for you to pull back to face him before he says anything. When you do, he flicks you on the forehead instead.

Okay, so you take the his actions are always gentle part back.

“Ouch!” You shrug yourself out of his hold, rubbing the probably reddening spot on your forehead.

“Payback for punching me earlier,” Renjun says, crossing his arms. “But are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You have a perfect record when it comes to your matches. Plus, you’re losing two out of your usual seven days. Are you sure you want to risk breaking your streak?” he asks. 

“What makes you think it’ll get broken?” you shoot back.

“I don’t just think; I know it will,” he smirks arrogantly. “That’s why I’m asking.”

You feel your left eye twitch. Riled up by his cocky demeanor, you grab your cup and chug the rest of your water, wincing like you just downed a shot. Wiping your mouth, you point your finger at him.

“Huang Renjun, just you wait. I’ll make you fall in love so hard that you’ll forget your own name.”

ও DAY ONE.

The Athena Cabin is a marvel to you every time you enter it. Rather than a cabin, it’s a workshop and a library in one on the inside. There are beds pushed haphazardly against the walls, and if you didn’t know that this was the official Athena Cabin, you would’ve thought that the Athena children had simply just crashed at a random facility at the camp and decided to call it their place of residence. 

Renjun is still asleep, despite the commotion of his brothers and sisters running around in the library and/or constructing something in the workshop. His bed is located in the very back, hidden by a bookshelf that’s not frequented often. He’s curled up into a ball, with the blanket covering his head but you can still see tufts of his hair sticking out from under it. 

“Rise and shine!” you sing, lifting blanket off his face. 

His peaceful expression twists with discomfort as its exposed to light, and he immediately rips the pillow out from under his head and puts it over his face. He says something to you, but his words are muffled. You just assume it’s some sort of profanity. 

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty! We have business to attend to,” you say cheerfully, taking the pillow away and tossing it to the foot of his bed.

“And what exactly is this supposed business?” Renjun asks dryly, opening his eyes and squinting up at you. 

“We’re going to scout for potential candidates for you,” you answer as you grab his arm and pull him up. He reluctantly lets you, slumping forward like a limp puppet. 

“Isn’t that your job?” He raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his messy bedhead. Renjun always looks particularly adorable when he wakes up. His pajamas consist of a pair of basketball shorts and an extremely stretched-out t-shirt. The shirt is so big that it’s slipping off his shoulder, which makes him look like a little kid. His hair is sticking up in all sorts of directions, and you can’t help but grin at how cute it is. 

“Yes, but you’re a special case.” You talk to him like he’s five, running your hands through his hair and messing it up even more. Renjun scowls at you, but he sits there and lets you do it.

“Geez, who peed in your cornflakes?” you tease, seeing his stormy look. 

“You.”

“Okay, fine! I’ll wait for you outside, but don’t take too long to get ready,” you say, finally retracting your hands. “No more than thirty minutes or else I’m gonna come find you!” 

He gives you another nasty look, and you blow him a kiss before skipping away. As you head back to the entrance, you greet a couple of Athena kids who pass by. Normally, Aphrodite and Athena children stick their noses up in the air and ignore each other, but you’re such a frequent visitor that they have had no choice but to accept you. It also helps that Renjun is quite popular, so the campers that don’t like you are forced to tolerate you anyway because you’re his best friend. 

That’s another thing you don’t understand—why Renjun hangs out with you when everyone around him is practically foaming at the mouth at the prospect of being his friend (or something more). But for reasons unknown to you, he chooses to ice them out and spend time with you instead.

It’s not that you’re inherently unpopular or someone that would “tarnish” his reputation, but he could probably find someone that annoyed him less and didn’t cause as much trouble as you do. However, you’re glad that he’s choosing to stay by your side in spite of how crazy you can get, because you’re not really sure what you would do without him. 

Not that you would ever admit that because Renjun would roast you to high Olympus.  

As if on cue, you spot Renjun trudging toward you. True to your request, he got ready within thirty minutes. In fact, it only took him about fifteen. He doesn’t look very happy, but he’s always had a resting bitch face (though you’re pretty sure he’s just pissed at you right now).

Strangely, you’re a little embarrassed to see him. You’re not sure why you suddenly thought of your friendship with him and got all sappy. You’ve never really been good at handling the mushy-gushy stuff—only helping others find it.

“Let’s get this over with,” Renjun says begrudgingly when he reaches you, crossing his arms.

“Okay, well, first thing’s first,” you respond, trying to get back on track. You loop your arm through his, which prompts him to instantly uncross his own so you can cling onto his bicep. It’s such a natural action for you that you don’t even think about how quickly he accommodates you. “What’s your type?”

“Where are we going?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he lets you lead him around.

“That depends on your answer to my question,” you reply breezily.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the one who figures that out? You know, with your whole Aphrodite-love-sense-tingle thing.” 

You ignore his dig at your ability. “Normally, yes. But seeing as you’re incapable of feeling any emotion other than bitterness, I have to directly ask you.” 

He laughs at your comeback. “I see. But even if I do tell you my type, what makes you think she will like me too?” 

“If she doesn’t, then just woo her with your irresistible charm,” you say sarcastically. 

“My irresistible charm has a tendency to make people hate my guts, actually,” Renjun says, shrugging. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

“Renjun, you are fully capable of making a girl fall for you,” you chide, huffing at his negative attitude. “I’m not concerned with that. My main issue right now is finding someone that will make you care enough to want her to like you back.”

“You think so?” he asks quietly, looking down at where your hand is resting on his arm.

“Hm?” 

“I hope you’re right,” he says a little louder, dragging his gaze away from your hand and giving you a small smile. “About being capable.”

When Renjun looks into your eyes, you feel him for the first time. Your heart wrenches with his, like a knife was driven into it and something keeps twisting it. It’s an excruciating pain that makes your lungs want to cave in, a pain so unbearably sad that it makes you want to assume fetal position and bawl your eyes out, an exhausting pain that drains you of all your energy until you want to collapse, a pain that makes you hate yourself—but it’s a pain you never want to get rid of. It’s a pain that makes you happy. It’s a pain you’re willing to endure for...for...for what? 

But the pain only lasts for a moment, flashing by like lightning. As you try to reach deeper, it slips through your fingers. Just as suddenly as it hit you, it vanishes. What remains in its place is the metaphorical iron wall that you always seem to run into every time you try to look into Renjun’s heart.

You can already feel your body starting to forget the pain. It’s so fast that you begin questioning if you even truly felt it in the first place, or if it was all some fever dream. You could also be having a stroke, so there’s that.

All jokes aside, you’re not sure what you’re more surprised by: the fact that Renjun has been feeling like this or how well he’s managed to hide it. 

And you’re not sure what you’re more hurt by: the fact that Renjun didn’t tell you or if you’re the one he’s trying to hide it from.

“—hello? Y/N? Earth to Y/N?” Renjun waves his hand in front of your face. 

You jolt, blinking several times as you detach yourself from your whirlwind of thoughts. “S-Sorry! What were you saying?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Ghosts don’t exist,” you retort automatically.

“Yes, they do! How many times have I told you there’s no way that my glass bottle could’ve fallen from my bed without shattering, yet it was underneath my bed, completely and totally unsc—” He begins to protest. 

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug. Thankfully, Renjun stops rambling about his ghost story that you’ve heard about a million times and trails off. His hands slowly come to rest on the small of your back, giving you soothing pats. It makes you sad that he’s always ready to comfort you when he’s the one that needs it. Your vision gets blurry with tears, but you hurriedly blink them away.

“How can you be so smart yet so dumb?” you whisper into his shoulder, clutching him tighter.

“You know, you’re sending me mixed signals here,” he says wryly. 

You hug him for a couple more seconds before pulling back. Reaching your hands up, you cup his face. Unfortunately, you do it a little too enthusiastically and basically slap both of his cheeks. “Shit! I’m so sorry, Renjun!” 

“Ow! What is wrong with you?” he demands, wincing. His lips are adorably jutted out and his words probably aren’t as angry as he wants them to be because you’re squishing his cheeks way too hard. 

“I just wanted to tell you that I will definitely find you a girlfriend. No matter what,” you declare with determination in your eyes.

Because I don’t want you to be in pain anymore. Because you deserve to be happy. Because you should have someone to lean on too, you want to say.

Renjun is staring at you like you’ve grown another head. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you dismiss. “Now, hurry up and tell me your ideal type.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

“Oh my gods, I’m fine. Stop with all the questions and just answer me!” you say, placing your hands on your hips.

“I think I’m starting to reconsider my ideal type right now,” he replies, eyeing you suspiciously. 

You sigh loudly. “Could you tell me one character trait that you would like in a girlfriend? Just one. Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

He snorts, and you begin to grow frustrated. “Renjun—”

“Stubborn,” he answers. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Of all the things you could’ve chosen, you went with that?”

“I finally answer your question and now you’re shaming me for it?” he shoots back. 

You put your hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, sorry. Anything else you can think of?”

“Unpredictable. Hotheaded. Infuriating. Nosy. Reckless. Unable to take anything seriously. No concept of personal space,” he lists them off like he’s has it memorized.

“These are all terrible traits,” you point out, frowning. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Stop messing around,” you snap, giving him a small shove. “Some positive ones, please.”

Renjun pauses. “This might take a second.”

You give him a pointed look, crossing your arms and tapping your foot impatiently. At this point, you’re not even sure if he’s just joking or if he actually means it. However, it’s the only thing you’ve gotten out of him so far, so you have to work with it. 

“Dedicated,” he finally says after some intense pondering.

You exhale in relief. “Thank gods. What else?”

“Kind. Cheerful. Carefree. Funny. Always makes me smile. Marches to her own beat. An open book when it comes to her feelings. Says whatever is on her mind without thinking twice. Gets excited about things that don’t matter. Has a wonderful laugh. Able to see the good in me, even though I’m an asshole—”

As he continues, you eventually stop paying attention to his words and watch his expression. All of his features have softened, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He has the gentlest smile on his face as he talks, but you’re not even sure that he’s aware of it. 

You wouldn’t be a child of Aphrodite if you couldn’t recognize a boy in love, and Renjun certainly fits the bill. 

Suddenly, you feel an ugly sensation twisting in the pit of your stomach, coiling like a poisonous snake. It’s an awful feeling, and it makes you ashamed because it resembles jealousy way too closely for your comfort. You hate feeling like this, but you don’t know how to stop it. In fact, you don’t even know why you’re feeling this way. It’s foreign to you, but you know it’s not coming from Renjun. This is all coming from inside you.

“Stunning in every way,” Renjun finishes quietly. His voice is barely a whisper, but you can hear it clearly, as if it’s right in your ear. 

Digging your nails into your palms, you let out a low whistle. “That was very...specific.”

“Afraid of a challenge?” he counters, smirking. 

His banter makes you grin. It’s almost enough to make you forget the feeling in your stomach. You wonder why you keep getting worked up by yourself. Maybe the summer heat is getting to you, and you really are on the verge of having a stroke. 

“It’s like you don’t even know me,” you retort dramatically, clinging onto his arm again. “Alright, let’s go!” 

“Where?” 

“The Training Grounds!” 

“Why there?” His nose crinkles. 

“Your ideal type is as Ares kid as it can get,” you say, snorting. “So, obviously, we’re going to their turf.” 

“Ares children are obnoxious and arrogant,” Renjun scoffs. 

“And you’re a smartass, so it’ll be fine,” you say breezily. 

He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

“You’re such a drama queen. Besides, it won’t be only Ares kids there,” you point out.

He shrugs in a noncommittal manner but ultimately lets you lead him to the Training Grounds. When you arrive, as expected, it’s mainly Ares kids there. For people who aren’t used to it, the Training Grounds could be mistaken for a battle royale, judging by how vicious it can get at times. Even though it’s just a bunch of sweaty young adults angrily swinging swords at dummies and each other. 

Stroking your chin, you begin to scan the area. It’s only when your eyes fall onto Park Sooyoung, the daughter of Ares that’s infamous for making men cower to their knees, that the lightbulb goes off in your head. 

“What about Sooyoung?” you ask excitedly, tugging on Renjun’s shirt. 

He frowns. “She hates me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say.

“She tried to throw a dagger at my head once,” he states flatly. 

“She does that to everyone,” you dismiss. “I think you two would work well together.”

“Please, enlighten me.” 

“She could be the brawn to your brain. She’s super rambunctious, while you’re more reserved and can keep her in check. But she’ll be able to teach you how to live a little, and you’ll just perfectly balance each other out. You know, that whole opposites attract and enemies to lovers trope,” you explain. 

“Enemies to lovers?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you say dreamily, “You two start off absolutely despising each other, but neither of you can fight the tension building and eventually just get entangled in the throes of your passion!”

“Okay, Fifty Shades of Grey, calm down,” Renjun says, scrunching up his features in disgust. “Stop writing fanfiction in your head and come back to the real world.”

You glare at him for killing your vibe. “Just go and try to talk to her.”

“I don’t want to be mauled.” There’s actually a small glimmer of fear in his eyes. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not gonna kill you. At least not in front of everyone like this,” you reassure him. 

“So you’re admitting that there is a possibility she would kill me.”

Fed up, you snatch his wrist and begin dragging him. He makes noises of protest, but you keep a vice-like grip on him. Sooyoung is sparring with some of her brothers (and frankly, handing their asses to them). You’re envious of how beautiful she is even with sweat dripping from her chin and tendrils of hair stuck to her neck. Her face is flushed with effort, but it makes her look like a peach. 

However, don’t ever judge a book by its cover because she proceeds to lift one of her brothers, as if she’s bench pressing him, and tosses him aside like a rag doll. He comes flying directly toward you, but Renjun wraps an arm around your shoulders and yanks you aside with his surprisingly quick reflexes. Sooyoung’s brother lands with a hard thud, right beside your feet.

Renjun holds you tightly against him as he scowls at Sooyoung, who is smirking at him. Your heart is pounding wildly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the adrenaline rush of one of Sooyoung’s brothers hurling towards you like a projectile or the way Renjun is cradling you to him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Renjun demands, livid. 

“Sorry about that,” Sooyoung says, trying to hide her amusement. 

“No, you’re not. You did it on purpose,” Renjun snaps. 

“Remove head from ass, Huang. If I didn’t think you’d be able to get her out of the way in time, I wouldn’t have done it,” Sooyoung responds, sounding bored.

“What if I hadn’t? Your tank of a brother would’ve knocked Y/N out,” Renjun says angrily, gritting his teeth. “And trust me, she doesn’t need any more screws loose than she already has.”

“Hey!” you chime in, offended. His arm falls from your shoulders and back to his side when you give him a dirty look. He seems a little surprised, whether the reason be from your sudden protest or how long his arm’s been around you. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sooyoung says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re here to see me, right?” 

Renjun opens his mouth to say something, but you slap a hand over his mouth. “Renjun thinks you’re really pretty and wants to train with you.”

Perhaps you could have delivered it in a smoother manner.

“Mm?” He stares at you with wide, horrified eyes. He’s trying to speak, but it’s all muffled by your palm. 

Sooyoung snorts, crossing her arms and tilting her head. “Does he now?” 

“Yes. He’s just too shy to admit it,” you lie through your teeth. 

“Mhm, I’m sure he is,” she laughs. “What’s the actual reason you’re here?”

“Whatever are you talking about? That is the reason,” you answer sweetly. “So, what do you say? Wanna spar him?”

“Mmmmmm!” Renjun has you by the wrist, trying to remove your hand from his mouth, but you won’t budge. 

“You must think I was born yesterday,” Sooyoung sighs. “You’re trying to set us up together, right? Glad to see you’re sticking to your whole matchmaking schtick.”

“Maybe,” you admit sheepishly. “Also, it is not a schtick! I have a natural affinity for finding people that are compatible with each other, like all Aphrodite children, and it is my duty to use that ability in order to help others.”

Despite how proud you look, Sooyoung and Renjun exchange knowing glances, and she reaches forward and gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Stray strong, soldier.”

“Mm,” he responds, sounding tired.

You watch the interaction with a baffled expression. Neither one of them seems intent on providing any context for you. You’re hit with another pang of jealousy. 

“While it would be my utmost honor to be Renjun’s girlfriend, I will have to decline. Firstly, because I would definitely murder him by our third date tops. And secondly, because I already have a girlfriend,” Sooyoung says nonchalantly. 

Your hand goes limp and falls off of Renjun’s mouth, finally freeing him. Your jaw is hanging wide open, a direct invitation for flies. The both of you just stand there and gawk at her. 

“What?” you exclaim, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You have a girlfriend?”

Most Aphrodite kids are just naturally aware of all the couples at Camp Half-Blood whenever they see them, but you make it a point to keep tabs on them so you can avoid incidents like this while you’re trying to find matches for others. Clearly, you’ve missed one. 

“Ye—”

“Who is it?” you demand, resisting the urge to shake her until her bones rattle. “How could I not know about it?”

“Well, that was the goal,” Sooyoung explains, “we want it to be a secret.”

You’re gripping her so tightly that the tips of your fingers have turned white, though you’re sure it doesn’t bother her since she’s pure muscle. You want to know who it is so badly, but you respect her privacy, so you decide to let it go. Even if you really don’t want to.

“I understand,” you say solemnly, begrudgingly releasing her. Your body is slightly twitchy as you fight to control your need to snoop. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Renjun cuts in, half-joking and half-concerned. 

“Today has not gone well for me,” you sigh, spirit crushed by the sudden news and exhausted because of your weird mood swings that have been happening. “I’m hot, and I just want a nice, cold shower, followed by some nice, cold ice cream, and then followed by a nice, warm nap. We’ll try this again tomorrow.” 

“Want me to walk you back to your cabin?” Renjun asks. 

You nod, shoulders slumped in defeat. “Sorry to bother you, Sooyoung.”

“No problem. You’ll get ‘em next time,” Sooyoung says, trying to sound encouraging. 

As you turn to pitifully walk away, you notice Sooyoung and Renjun exchange another look in your peripheral. She gives him a thumbs up and he smiles wryly before he also turns to follow you.

It’s just the icing on the cake for your awful day. 

The walk back to your cabin is pretty quiet; Renjun sensing your foul mood and making the wise decision of letting you pout all by your lonesome (not that he’s much of a chatterbox anyway). You’re looking down at your feet as you walk, and he kindly navigates you through crowds and moves you out of the way when campers run by. This is something Renjun does often, since you have a tendency to not pay much attention to your surroundings on a regular basis, so you don’t even think twice about it. 

When you finally arrive, Renjun gives you a comforting pat on the back. “See you tomorrow. I’ll meet you here. Do not barge into my cabin and give me another rude awakening like you did today.”

You give him a strained smile and wink. “No promises.”

Of course, your act doesn’t fool him. He sighs. “Did it really bother you that much that Sooyoung managed to hide her relationship from you? It’s not like you to be so down after one failure.”

Honestly, that’s the least of your concerns right now. Did it hurt your pride? Yes, but you’ve recovered from a wounded pride countless times. 

What bothers you the most right now is the vile jealousy that you’ve stored in your heart. How shitty you felt when he was describing his ideal type (and how absolutely lovestruck he looked), or how bitter you were when you saw that Sooyoung and Renjun were in on something you weren’t. It eats away at you, seemingly within moments, before you even know what’s happening. But why? Where is it all coming from?

This is Renjun you’re talking about. Renjun, your best friend. Renjun, the one who’s always there for you. Renjun, the closest person to you other than your bloodline. 

Or so you thought. 

The pain that you felt from him earlier still haunts you, even if it’s faint. You’ve always seen Renjun as someone you can confide in, no matter what, yet it doesn’t appear like he feels the same towards you. In fact, an irrational part of you thinks you may be the one he’s trying to keep it from. 

And the paranoid part of you thinks Sooyoung knows about it too.

You know it’s horrible to think that, but you can’t control it. Renjun isn’t required to tell you everything he feels just because you do, not that it doesn’t hurt any less. It just bugs you that there could be someone closer to him than even you, which is an incredibly toxic mindset to have. You’re upset by the fact that you’re so possessive of him, yet you can’t seem to let him go either. 

I guess it’s alright if it’s Sooyoung, you admit to yourself, since she has a girlfriend.

You blink.

Wait, what? 

Before you can figure out what the hell your brain meant by that, you feel Renjun place his hand on your forehead. It jars you from your thoughts and you come back to reality, where Renjun is staring at you with furrowed brows as he checks your temperature. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You’ve been spacing out all day,” he says, clearly worried.

“F-Fine!” you answer way too enthusiastically. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses. “Just go get some rest.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you nod hurriedly, giving him a two-finger salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early! Don’t oversleep!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, smiling. You can tell he’s still concerned, but your brighter attitude relieves him just a tad. “Oh, and Y/N?” 

“Mhm?”

“I forgot to mention one more trait for my ideal type.”

“What is it?” You wish you had never asked him in the first place. Just when your mood was getting a little better, it sours just as quickly. 

“Dense,” he adds. 

You give him a puzzled look. “Huh?”

“I want her to be dense,” he states simply. 

“No way,” you argue, when his words finally register. “How is it gonna work out if both of you are dense as hell?”

“Who knows? Maybe our denseness will cancel each other out, and we’ll fall in love instantly,” he shrugs.

“Of course. PEMDAS and shit,” you jokingly agree.

“Exactly,” he says, nodding with a deadpan expression. 

You laugh loudly—a big belly laugh that makes Renjun beam. The tension eases off his features, and he seems much more reassured. Your heart swells at how hard he’s trying to make sure you’re okay, not that he would ever admit that.

“Okay, for real now. Bye, Y/N.” He gives you a lazy wave before walking away, shattering your touching moment. 

You huff at how he turned around without even letting you respond, though you still wave back (even if he can’t see it), and go back into your cabin. The moment the door closes behind you, you make a beeline for the shower. Peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, you close your eyes in bliss when the cold water hits you. 

As you let the water run down your body, you begin to feel more and more like a petulant child that just threw the biggest tantrum ever. You’re embarrassed that you overreacted like that and got so emotional for no reason. You chide yourself for being selfish. Just because you’re upset that Renjun doesn’t confide in you the way you do him, it doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t have someone. You should be happy for him when he finds a person he can fully open up to, even more so than you. Isn’t that what you’re trying to do for him right now? 

You shut the water off before slapping your cheeks hard, giving yourself a wake up call. Resolving to be more composed tomorrow, you decide to just take a nap for now as you change into comfortable clothes and dry your hair off. 

When you get to your bed, you see a small bowl of ice cream on your nightstand. Luckily, your shower didn’t take too long, so it’s still relatively frozen. It’s two scoops of chocolate, which is your favorite. You’re so excited that you almost miss the note tucked underneath the bowl. 

don’t know when you’re going to get out of the shower, so this might just be soup by the time you’re out. if that’s the case, drink it anyways since i went through the trouble of getting it. 

You snort. It’s so like Renjun to write a tactless note like this and not even bother signing off on it. If he’s going to be sweet, he shouldn’t ruin the moment by doing what he always does—opening his mouth (figuratively, in this case). 

But it’s not enough to wipe that big grin off your face, as you carefully fold up the note and put it in your drawer. 

He’s not cute at all.

ও DAY TWO.

The next day is about as successful as the first one, if not worse.

You had woken up with a game plan. Before you went to meet Renjun, you drafted up a list of campers that matched his ideal type (for the most part, since he was a little too specific). The goal was to narrow it down to a couple names before trying to march in head first, since that went disastrously yesterday. 

Unfortunately, instead of things going smoothly like you had hoped, you find yourself banging your head against a tabletop repeatedly.

You and Renjun are currently sitting in the library of the Athena Cabin, having been there for almost an hour now. He’s nearly eliminated your entire list that you so meticulously curated this morning. You’re starting to wonder if he’s purposefully being difficult just to see you riled up.

Renjun watches you hit your head a couple more times before outstretching his hand, catching your forehead in his palm and blocking you from hitting it against the table again. “Stop before you bleed all over the table, and I get stuck scrubbing it out later.”

You raise your head to glare at him. “I’ll show you bleeding all over the table.”

He doesn’t even blink at your threat, infuriatingly unfazed. “Are you done with your list already?”

“No,” you grumble, “I still have some left.”

“So, if I’m not interested in the rest, does that mean we’re done for the day?” he asks.

“Haha,” you say wryly, “you wish. If you don’t pick one, then I’ll just go through the list myself and pick one that I think is the most compatible with you.”

“Damn it.”

“Okay, what about Hyun Seunghee? She’s an Apollo kid. Super talented and sweet, one of the most adorable people on the planet, and loves art just like you,” you suggest.

“Seunghee is a very sweet girl,” Renjun agrees. “But I don’t think I have the energy to keep up with her. She’s even bubblier and more hyperactive than you, and I can barely manage dealing with you.” 

Sighing, you cross out Seunghee’s name on your list while simultaneously flipping off Renjun with your other hand. “Okay, what about Lee Mijoo? She’s one of my sisters, and honestly, she’s way out of your league but I’ll keep her in the running for now.” 

You figure it’s best to not mention that, despite being way out of his league, Mijoo has expressed some very...explicit interest in Renjun before. It’ll make things awkward if they do end up talking, and you aren’t one to expose your own sister like that.

“Ew, no way, that’s weird,” Renjun says, scrunching up his nose.

“What, why?”

“I don’t want to date anyone related to you. That would make us sort of related too, and the last thing I want is to be your brother.” He spits out the word like it’s a stale piece of gum that he’s been chewing for four hours.

“First of all, slow down, tiger. You would have to marry her for us to be related. This is just a casual thing. No one said anything about marriage. Second of all, that is so mean! Why wouldn’t you want to be in-laws with me?” you demand, offended.

“Don’t most people enter relationships with the intention of spending the rest of their lives with each other?” he asks, skillfully dodging your question. “I won’t date someone if I think we’re just going to breakup down the road.”

There’s a beat of silence as you stare at him with wonder. Your lips curl into a gentle smile, and you can’t hide the adoration in your expression. Renjun truly is all bark and no bite. Who would’ve guessed there’s such a lovely and pure person behind his sharp tongue?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks warily. You swear you can see a little pink dusting the shells of his ears and the tip of his nose.

“It’s just...you’re much more of a hopeless romantic than I initially thought, Huang Renjun,” you say teasingly. 

Now, you can definitely tell he’s embarrassed. He mumbles a “shut up” under his breath, but you can barely hear it.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you advise, “it’s totally natural to date and breakup. You can love someone with all of your heart, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be your life partner. Loosen up, my friend, and just have fun! Fall in love recklessly, and don’t think about anything else! That’s what youth is all about!”

You expect him to make fun of you for lecturing him like you’re centuries old, when the both of you can barely label yourselves as adults, but he doesn’t. 

Instead, he’s gazing at you with a deep melancholy in his eyes. You’re sitting right across from him, but the way he looks at you makes it seem like you’re galaxies away. Your gut wrenches at how hurt and helpless he seems, like he’s yearning for something that is out of his reach. 

Time seems to slow down as the two of you stare into each other’s eyes, as if you’re both entranced. It’s hard to tell how long you stay like that, but it feels like you’ve woken up in the middle of a sweet dream when Renjun finally breaks eye contact. You’re slightly disoriented, even though it’s probably only been a few seconds.

Clearing his throat, Renjun mutters, “Anyways, don’t put anymore of your siblings on the list.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts before sighing. “Fine. But now I’ve run out of names on my list.”

“Well, gosh darn it, what a shame,” he says in a terrible Southern accent while attempting to get up. “Look’s like that’s a wrap for today!” 

“Not so fast,” you cut in, snapping your fingers at him to sit back down. “We’re not done yet.” 

He groans but reluctantly obeys, dramatically throwing his head into his arms when he does.

“Behave while I go through this list again,” you order, putting stars next to names that you’re going to force Renjun to reconsider with. 

“Now, you’re making me want to hit my head against the table,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms.

You ignore his whining, focusing on your current task at hand. Just as you finish narrowing it down to a select few, someone brushes past you and it’s like you hear angels singing. Seo Soojin, daughter of Nemesis and actual hotness personified, walks by. 

Soojin is relatively new to Camp Half-Blood, having arrived for the first time last year. You don’t know much about her personality because she keeps to herself and her tight-knit circle of friends for the most part. You know for a fact that she’s a far cry from Renjun’s type, but you’re starting to think he doesn’t really know what he wants—seeing that he shot down every single person on your list already. She will be a nice change of pace for him.

“What about Soojin?” you ask in a hushed whisper, leaning forward. 

“Who?” Renjun looks around, not lowering his voice or trying to be subtle in the slightest.

“Shhh!” you hiss, grabbing him by his shirt and yanking him forward. You pull a little too hard and end up knocking your foreheads together. 

“Ow! Why is your head made out of cast iron?” Renjun winces. He tries to lean back, but you don’t let him escape. 

“Shut up! You’re the blockhead, asshole,” you protest, getting offended for the second time. “Anyways, Seo Soojin. The girl over there. The one with the bangs, big lips, and is hot as fuck?” 

He squints, finally zeroing in on her. “What about her?”

“That’s what I’m asking you, dipshit!” 

Renjun shrugs noncommittally—an action that you’ve grown extremely accustomed to during these past two days, an action that makes you want to rip your own hair out. “She seems nice.” 

“Well, try and talk to her then,” you say, spelling it out for him. “You know, so you can see if the two of you will hit it off or not.”

He gives you a look. It’s the same look that a twelve-year-old kid gives his mother when she makes him take a picture in front of a national monument that he doesn’t know anything about, nor does he care to. However, she insists, so he reluctantly trudges over to it and takes the picture—hands firmly balled up by his sides and his lips pressed into a hard line, no matter how much his mom tells him to smile.

So, in other words, Renjun looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

“Are you sure that you’re human?” you ask incredulously. You’re not even being sarcastic at this point; you genuinely want to know how he is able to feel absolutely nothing for women that could rival the goddesses themselves.

“Technically—”

“If you say that you’re only half-human because we’re demigods, you’re going to get a pen through the jugular,” you warn, pointing your pen at him. 

“Am I wrong, though?” 

“You know what I mean, you smartass. Are you or are you not capable of feeling romantic attraction towards another person?” you demand.

“I am,” he simply says.

“That’s it? That was the most robotic answer I’ve ever heard in my life!” you exclaim. 

“What else am I supposed to say?” he asks, throwing his arms up. 

“Have you experienced any blackouts recently, like woken up without memory of the past twenty-four hours? Have you checked your body for any chip implants under your skin?” You eye him suspiciously. “Been beamed up by any UFOs? Gone somewhere haunted?” 

Renjun gives you a pointed look, sighing. “While it is touching to know that you do, in fact, listen to me whenever I talk about topics I’m interested in, this is not how I wanted you to apply your knowledge.”

“You know, now that I think about it, you sure talked about alien abductions a lot,” you say, stroking a fake beard on your chin. “Could it be because you were actually abducted by aliens and got brainwashed into gathering information about us demigods, but they took away your ability to feel emotions so they wouldn’t get in the way of your mission?” 

You pause, waiting for his reaction. Renjun is very obviously trying not to smile, with his chin being propped up by his palm and his fingers covering his mouth. “Please, continue.” 

“But ultimately, that will be your fatal flaw and the downfall of your mission because you can’t empathize like humans can,” you finish dramatically. 

“Alright, let’s say I was brainwashed by aliens. Why would I then draw more attention to myself by talking about the very thing that happened to me? Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Reverse psychology,” you explain, “you talk about them, so you won’t seem suspicious.” 

Renjun exhales sharply before looking down at his feet. You can see his lips twitching as he tries not to laugh, though you’re pretty sure that exhale from before was a small laugh. You’re grinning, despite the fact that you’re also trying to keep up your detective act.

“I’m kind of wish I had been abducted by aliens right about now. Maybe brainwashed me would be a little more courageous,” he mutters under his breath. You’re not sure if you were meant to hear that, but you do anyways. 

“That sounds exactly like something someone abducted by an alien would say!” you say in an accusatory tone, pointing a finger at him. He rolls his eyes, but a tiny smile eventually makes its way to his lips. 

You gasp loudly, grabbing his face and pulling it towards your own. He makes a small noise of surprise, eyes as wide as UFO saucers. Your faces are so close that your noses are slightly brushing up against one another, but you’re not paying attention to that right now. 

“Or you could be a lizard person,” you whisper, “you know, the ones that people think take the place of government officials.”

“They’re called reptilian humanoids,” Renjun corrects. His breath (which smells like the blueberry muffin he had this morning) rustles your baby hairs. 

“Your eyes are glowing yellow, and your pupils are turning into slits,” you tease.

“Are they, now?” 

No, they aren’t. His eyes are a cool, icy gray, like most Athena children. It’s always been a trait you’ve been jealous of. They sparkle like stars, or freshly fallen snow. They change according to his mood too. For example, when he gets angry, there are no stars. Instead of twinkling, they flash like lightning. His eyes are truly the window to his soul; they’re one of your favorite things about him.

Renjun slightly leans into your touch, and it finally hits you how close he is. You’re cupping his face with both hands, tilting his chin up, and it looks like you’re about to...kiss him.

 It seems you’re not the only one who thinks so, because almost the entire library is gawking at you. Including Seo Soojin. She looks surprised, and slightly disgusted, by the two of you.

Oh.

You feel heat rise from your neck to your entire face.

Oh gods, they all think we’re a couple.

You recoil away from him, withdrawing your hands like your just burned yourself. “We have to get out of here.”

“What?” As always, Renjun doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Just come on,” you say quickly, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the library. 

Your face burns for a long time after that, and you can no longer focus on anything else. In the end, you decide to call it a day after a few more half-hearted attempts to find more candidates for Renjun. When you come back to your cabin, you take another cold shower. 

You’re not sure what you’re so flustered by: the fact that you didn’t realize what you were doing or the fact that everyone in the library saw it.

Or the fact that you didn’t mind the notion of being mistaken for a couple with Renjun.

ও DAY THREE.

You don’t meet bright and early with Renjun today. He demanded to sleep in this time, since he’s not an early riser to begin with and the past two days have sucked all the energy out of him. 

Which means you’re free until noon. You check the time—10 AM. 

Two hours to kill. 

You don’t feel like getting all sweaty and hot, so any activity outside is out. You really don’t want to be judged by more Athena kids in the Arts and Crafts Center without Renjun. So, you decide to head back to the library, despite how yesterday went.

You check out a book that goes into depth about some of the most believable conspiracy theories; Renjun actually read it a while ago (and totally geeked out about it to you), but who would have thought that you would end up reading it too? Past you definitely would’ve laughed in your face if you told her that. 

Once you get back to your cabin, you curl up in your covers and begin to read. You get about two chapters in when you hear the door open and Jeong Jaehyun, one of your brothers, walks in. He’s wearing his orange t-shirt that’s soaked with sweat, and his hair is dripping from perspiration too. His pale skin glistens, and he looks like a sweaty and sparkly vampire. 

“Hey, kid,” Jaehyun says, nodding at you. He isn’t that much older than you, but he’s gotten into the habit of calling you kid for some reason.

“This is a surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come back from training before 5 PM,” you tease.

He lets out a low whistle. “Way too hot out there. I needed to get some A/C before I had a heatstroke—is that a book in your hand?”

“What about it?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Jaehyun snorts. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you near a book, much less read one.”

“Rude. I am expanding my horizons,” you retort. 

“It seems so. What was up with you and Renjun at the library yesterday?” Jaehyun plops down on the edge of your bed. 

“How do you even know about that?” you ask, wrinkling your nose. “And go take a shower first before you sit on my bed! You stink!” 

“Do I?” He waggles his eyebrows and throws his arms around you in a bear hug. You try your best to shove him off, but he has a hold on your like a python. 

“I hate you,” you say when he finally pulls back, sniffing your shirt to make sure you still smelled like your fabric softener. “Anyways, how’d you find out about the library thing?”

“Rumors spread fast around here, dear sister. But, seriously, what’s the deal?”

“There is no deal, Jaehyun,” you sigh, closing your book. “It’s all just a misunderstanding. We were joking around while I was trying to find a potential girlfriend for him there—which, by the way, is going horribly. I don’t think he feels romantic attraction properly like everybody else.”

“Oh right. I forgot you roped Renjun into your matchmaking thing,” Jaehyun says, disappointed. “Damn, and here I thought he finally made a move.”

Your head snaps up to give him a quizzical look. “What?”

“What?” He tilts his head.

“What did you mean by that, the part where you said you thought Renjun finally made a move?” you ask. 

Jaehyun stares at you for a couple of seconds, an astonished expression on his face. “Do you really not know?” 

“Would I be asking if I didn’t know?” you shoot back, annoyed that he still hasn’t answered you. 

“Gods, all this time, I thought you were just pretending like you didn’t know because you didn’t want to make things awkward,” he continues, shaking his head.

“Jaehyun, what are you talking about?” you demand.

“Renjun is in love with you, Y/N.”

You gape at him. It’s a good thing you’re already sitting down because you definitely would have fallen on your ass if you had been standing.

“Th-Th-That’s impossible,” you stammer, like an absolute idiot. “There’s n-n-no way.”

“Oh, come on, lil’ sis. He’s never even tried to hide it. He’s so obvious about it that I seriously don’t understand how you didn’t know,” Jaehyun snorts. “You don’t even need to have powers to see that he’s head over heels for you.”

“But—but how? I would’ve sensed it!” you exclaim.

“You’re so sharp when it comes to other people, but you’re dense as hell when it comes to yourself,” Jaehyun points out, shrugging. “You just never paid attention, Y/N.”

You don’t respond. Your mind is a mess, a jumbled mishmash of emotions. You’re feeling so many things right now, and you can’t pinpoint any of it.. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out.

“Do you like him back?” Jaehyun asks softly. 

“I—no! Of course not. Renjun’s my best friend. If I liked him, why would I be trying to find him a girlfriend right now? That’d be stupid of me. Yeah, that’d be so dumb. Why would I do that?” You’re rambling now, and it’s glaringly obvious that you’re trying to convince yourself rather than Jaehyun (and you know he can see it too).

“It doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard, though.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you ask defensively. 

“The Y/N I know spends all hours of the day gathering information on her potential matches and making sure even the tiniest detail goes according to her master plan that she’s already drafted inside her head. She wouldn’t be sitting here, leisurely reading a book, especially if it’s going horribly. She would be doing everything in her power to get things back on track,” Jaehyun notes. “Ask yourself. Do you really want Renjun to get a girlfriend?” 

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I?” You ask him, hoping he knows the answer, because you sure as hell don’t know. 

“Because he won’t always be there anymore. He won’t have time to let you constantly drag him into your antics anymore. You won’t be his number one anymore. His girlfriend will be his first priority, of course, as she should. Think long and hard about that, Y/N. Will you be okay with that?”

“I—” The words seem to die inside your throat as you come to realization that you might not be okay with that at all. You’ve always gone to Renjun for everything and knowing that he may not always be there makes you feel lost, like a compass without it’s True North. You’re being selfish again, but it seems like you’ve gotten into the habit of acting selfish whenever it comes to Renjun. You’ve let yourself grow too reliant on him. 

“Why do you care so much anyways?” Now, you’re deflecting. “Why did you tell me all of this?”

“Because you’re my little sister and I care about you. I want you to be one hundred percent sure of your own feelings, so your heart doesn’t get broken. The only reason I didn’t say anything sooner was because I thought you were already sure. Take some time and think about it, Y/N. It’ll be better for your friendship with Renjun if everything is crystal clear between the two of you,” Jaehyun advises, giving you a pat on the shoulder. He gets up, presumably to take a shower, and leaves.

You barely notice him go.

You sit in your bed, staring blankly at the wall, until Renjun finally arrives. He’s still a little groggy, probably having woken up ten minutes ago before coming. His clothes are a little rumpled and his hair isn’t styled, with his bangs flopping in his eyes. Normally, you would have made fun of him and mussed it up, but you have other things on your mind as of the moment. 

Like always, he can tell something is up. He gets that concerned look on his face—the one where he has a deep crease between his brows and his rosy lips are turned downwards. 

“What’s wrong?” He places a hand on your arm, lowering his head so he can’t get a better look at your face. 

Physical contact with Renjun has always been something normal for you, but suddenly, you’re now acutely aware of everything about him. You can feel the pad of every one of his fingertips on your bare skin, the warmth of his palm, and just how easily his touch makes your body relax. Even when your brain is a whirlwind of thoughts, your muscles, like clockwork, instantly loosen up with just a brush of his hand.

“We need to talk,” you say shakily, moving away from him. There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes as his hand falls to his side. You feel bad, but the longer he’s touching you, the more confused you get. 

You lead him a secluded area behind the Dining Pavilion, and he follows wordlessly. He waits for you to speak as the two of you stand there. Now that you’re here, you don’t really know what to say anymore. 

“Are you in love with me?” you blurt before you can stop yourself. “Jaehyun said—”

“Yes,” Renjun answers. If he’s surprised or taken aback whatosever, he doesn’t show it. In fact, it seems like he knew this was coming. There’s no fear or hesitation in his eyes. He’s unwavering in his answer, and you wonder how he can always be so certain of his feelings. 

“How long?” you ask tentatively. 

“Probably when we first met,” he says. 

“Why?” 

“Are you asking me why I’m in love with you?” He raises an eyebrow. 

You’re not sure. You’re not sure of anything anymore.

When you don’t answer, Renjun looks at you for a very long time. “You make me happy, Y/N. No matter how shitty things get, no matter how much I want to ram my fist through a wall, I see you and it’s like I can finally take a breath again. When you smile at me, I forget about everything that was bothering me. You and your daily shenanigans are the best part of my day. You’re obnoxious and frustrating and exhausting, but I fucking love you for it. I’m at your beck and call; I’d do anything for you. Whenever you’re happy, I become happy too. Nothing else matters to me anymore. That’s why.”

“You should have told me,” you say, voice cracking. Your heart is singing with joy, and you want to cry with relief. He talks about you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and you so desperately want to be exactly that for him. You’re not confused anymore. Everything has finally become clear for you now. You truly wonder how you managed not to notice anything at all—whether it be your own feelings or his. 

“I knew it would upset you,” he murmurs. 

But then it hits you. 

You can’t even fathom how much Renjun has had to endure throughout the years. He’s loved you all this time, yet he hasn’t said a word—out of consideration for you. In everything he’s ever done during the course of your friendship, he has always put you first. Even if it hurts him, he was willing to withstand it for your sake.

Yet all you’ve done for him is force him into letting you try to find a him a girlfriend, despite the fact that he was against it, and he had to pretend like he was okay as he watched you parade around like a fool telling him to love someone else. 

You don’t deserve to be loved by someone like Huang Renjun.

You don’t deserve to love someone like Huang Renjun.

Suddenly, you begin to feel nauseous—probably sickened by guilt. Black spots dot your vision, and your legs start wobbling. Your body collapses only moments after, but luckily, Renjun manages to catch you before you can hit the pavement. 

“Y/N? Y/N? Hey, talk to me,” you can hear him say very faintly. He’s cradling you against his chest, and you bury your face in it. Your head is spinning, but you feel surprisingly grounded in his arms.

Has he always smelled this nice? His scent is a mixture of books and sandalwood, and you’re basically crushing your nose against his chest like an absolute pervert. You don’t feel embarrassed because you know you can blame it on being sick later. 

Speaking of sick, even though Renjun smells so good, you proceed to lean forward and vomit all over him and yourself.

Once again, you don’t feel that embarrassed because you black out soon after.

ও DAY FOUR.

You wake up tucked nicely under your covers. Much to your relief, you’re also in clean clothes—your favorite set of heart pajamas. Unfortunately, that’s the only bright side to your current state.

It feels like you haven’t had a sip of water in ten years, and your lips feel like they’ve been glued together. Even the tiniest movement makes your head feel like someone is drilling into your skull. Your body feels twenty times heavier, and not to mention, you just generally feel like shit because of what happened with Renjun.

“Oh my gods, you look so creepy right now. Who just lays there with their eyes wide open? If you’re awake, you should say something,” a voice chides. Turning your head just a smidgen (and wincing because of the pain), you see your sister, Lee Mijoo. She has a glass of water in her hand, setting it on your nightstand.

“How long have I been asleep?” you ask hoarsely. 

“Let’s see. Renjun brought you back at like 2 PM yesterday, and it’s now 8 PM, so...thirty hours?” Mijoo counts on her fingers. 

“Fuck,” you groan.

“Heatstroke will do that to ya,” she says, making a clicking noise with her tongue.

“I had a heatstroke?”

“Yep. It was a pretty nasty one too. You really did a number all over Renjun’s shirt. It was like a vomit Picasso,” Mijoo says, sounding kind of impressed.

Your face burns from humiliation. 

“Here, sit up and drink this water,” she orders, helping you get up. Your head is screaming in pain, like a million little jabs to your brain. You down the water in one big gulp, not realizing just how dehydrated you were until your lips hit the water. 

“So, you and Renjun, huh?” Mijoo asks sheepishly.

If you still had water in your mouth, you would’ve spat it out. “What?”

“Jaehyun told me everything,” she explains.

Traitor, you think to yourself.

“Don’t be mad at him. Renjun looked like a kicked puppy when we saw him. There’s no way I wouldn’t have asked questions,” she says. “Did you break his heart, little sister?”

You sigh, putting the cup back on your nightstand. “I hope not. His heart shouldn’t be broken by someone like me.”

“And what does that mean?”

“It means that he shouldn’t concern himself with me,” you sigh.

“Well, he does. He came to check up on you like a billion times. I had to ban him from coming back until tomorrow,” Mijoo snorts. “He’s a really good guy, you know.”

“Trust me,” you say, rubbing your temples. “I know that better than anyone.”

“So, what’s stopping you? I would be all over that.”

You glare at her before letting out another sigh. “He’s too good for me, Mijoo.” 

“That’s for him to decide, no?” She raises an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying the truth,” you say. 

“So, you won’t mind if I date him?” she asks seriously.

Your face falls instantly, and Mijoo doubles over laughing. 

“Geez, Y/N, you looked like you were about to claw my eyes out!” She wipes away a tear.

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

“But what if I had been serious? What would you have done then?”

You don’t answer.

“I think you really, really like Renjun, Y/N,” Mijoo whispers loudly.

“I think I love him,” you whisper back.

“Then, you should probably tell him.”

“Yeah, I should,” you echo.

Ignoring the major migraine you have and the fact that you’re still a little sluggish, you throw your covers off of you. You don’t change out of your pajamas, simply throwing a thin cardigan over it. 

“Uh, Y/N, maybe you should wait until you feel be—”

“No, I have do it now before I change my mind,” you cut her off, slipping on your tennis shoes.

You hear Mijoo call after you, but you’re already out of the door. The Athena Cabin isn’t too far from the Aphrodite Cabin, so the walk is short. Much to your surprise once you’re inside, he isn’t there.

Grabbing the nearest Athena kid you see, you ask, “Where’s Renjun?”

“Um, I think he went to the amphitheater?” 

The amphitheater is a bit further, so you promptly release and thank the kid, before taking off. You’re not sure if running is recommended right after a heatstroke, but you do it anyways. By the time you get there, your cardigan is slipping off and you’re dripping with sweat from the humid summer heat. 

The amphitheater is extremely crowded, since there was probably a performance tonight. It’s actually a little hard to see over all the people. However, you find Renjun pretty quickly.

You see him standing off to the side, away from everyone else. He’s staring emptily at the stage, hands tucked inside his pockets. He looks so tired and dejected. His entire body slumps as if it’s too exhausting to stand up straight anymore. 

All because of you.

You wait until you finally catch your breath, opening your mouth to call out to him. But you don’t ever get the chance to because a girl walks up to him. You can’t tell who she is because the back of her head is facing you, and you see Renjun give her a small smile before saying something.

The girl laughs and turns her head, giving you a view of her side profile.

Hwang Yeji.

All of the courage you had inside you withers away like a dying flower.

You take a step back, accidentally bumping into someone behind you. They say something to you, but you don’t hear it at all. Instead, you turn on your heel and run. You run wildly and blindly, nearly whizzing right past your cabin. You’re barely able get back inside, eyes so blurry with tears that you can’t even see where you’re going. 

When Mijoo sees you, she doesn’t ask any questions. She just turns on the shower for you, extra hot. You step in without a word, letting the water mix with the tears running down your face. 

It’s not that you think Renjun is in love with Yeji now. In fact, you know he’s not. It’s just that they would be much better together. 

Yeji is one of the sweetest girls you know. She would treat Renjun with the kindness he deserves. She would consider his feelings first before making him do anything. She would make him happier than you ever could. They would be so compatible, and if you weren’t in love with Renjun yourself, you would definitely be trying to set the two up. 

After your shower, you change into the clothes Mijoo set out for you—an oversized sweater with cotton shorts—and miserably crawl back in bed. You’re so drained that you don’t even have the energy to drink the fresh glass of water on your nightstand. 

Everything hurt—mentally and physically. 

Your heart aches most of all. You’ve dated here and there, gone through some breakups, but nothing has ever been as painful as this. 

It’s a pain that consumes you whole. A pain that makes you want to scream but no sound will come out. A pain that makes you want to tear your heart out. A pain that makes you wish a bunch of aliens abducted you and brainwashed you into not feeling any emotions anymore.

It’s the same pain that you thought you felt from Renjun on the first day of when this all began.

And then the last puzzle piece finally falls into place.

That pain was never his.

It has always been your own.

You love Renjun too, and you’ve loved him for a very long time.

ও DAY FIVE. 

“Come on, Y/N. At least get up to wash your face and brush your teeth,” Mijoo pleads.

You ignore her, pulling your covers over your head and turning away. It’s already well into the afternoon, but you’ve been feigning sick so you didn’t have to get up. The rest of the Aphrodite children have left and gone about their various activities throughout the camp, but Mijoo was tasked by Jaehyun to take care of you.

“If you just do that, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day,” she bargains. 

You think about it for a second before sighing, begrudgingly sitting up. You can see the pity dripping out of her eyes when you brush past her to head to the bathroom. When you see yourself in the mirror, you can understand why.

Puffy eyes, matted hair, tear-stained cheeks, and chapped lips. It’s too bad you hadn’t been wearing mascara last night because the only thing you’re missing in your hot mess look right now are those dark smudges right under your eyes.

You brush you teeth, which takes a lot more effort than you realize, and splash water on your face. Not even bothering to brush your hair, you head straight back to bed. True to her word, Mijoo doesn’t say anything else after that.

That is, until a couple hours later.

“Um, so I know I said I would leave you alone, but I think you might want to get up for this one, Y/N,” she whispers. You can’t see her because you back is turned to her, but you can tell by the tone of her voice that it’s important.

Irritated, you yank the covers off you and sit back up once again. “Mijoo, I—”

You almost choke on air when you realize Mijoo isn’t alone. Renjun is right beside her, looking not much better than you. He’s in a wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair looks like he just ran his fingers through it and called it a day, and he has purple bags under his eyes.

“Can we talk?” Renjun asks. 

You hesitantly nod. 

“I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy,” Mijoo says awkwardly before turning around and running out of the cabin. 

You don’t know what to do now, staring down at your clasped hands. You hear Renjun take a step forward, and you feel the edge of your bed dip under his weight. There’s a sizable gap between you and where he’s sitting, but he’s still close enough for his scent to waft over to you. He smells wonderful like usual, and you hope you don’t stink in return.

“How are you feeling?” Renjun asks quietly.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly.

He laughs under his breath. “I know what you mean.” 

Your heart skips a beat, and you feel giddy all of a sudden when you see him smile. How did you manage to turn into a lovesick little schoolgirl over night? 

“I talked to Yeji last night at the amphitheater,” Renjun says after a moment. 

“I know,” you mutter. 

He blinks. “You do? How?” 

You’re not sure how to answer that.

“Well, that doesn’t matter right now,” he dismisses, taking in a deep breath. “I just wanted to tell you that I ran into her after I checked up on you, and she invited me to watch her performance. I wasn’t going to say yes at first, but I thought it would make you happy if I did. I tried, Y/N, I really tried. Yeji’s a nice girl, but I can’t help how I feel. I love you, Y/N. It’s always been you, and it always will be. I’m not asking you to love me back. I just want to stay by your side, as your friend, if you’ll allow it. I—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, scooting closer to him and putting a hand over his mouth. “I have to tell you something.” 

Renjun gives you a bewildered expression but nods nonetheless. 

You remove your hand from his mouth, before taking in a deep breath of your own. “You’re my best friend, Renjun, and I’ve always confided in you for everything. I took you for granted, and I only thought about myself. Deep down, I think I’ve always known about your feelings and my own, but I was afraid to dig for it. I was comfortable, and I didn’t want to ruin that, even though you were hurting. I’m truly sorry for treating you that way, Renjun. From now on, I want you to tell me everything—the good, the bad, the ugly. Don’t bottle things up for my sake.”

He goes to say something, but you hold up your hand to stop him.

“The reason why I knew you were with Yeji at the amphitheater last night is because I was there too. I went to look for you,” you finally confess. “When I decided I was going to find a girlfriend for you, I thought I would be able to step aside when you did find someone. But once I saw you with Yeji, I realized that I couldn’t do it. What I want with you isn’t a friendship anymore. I’m in love with you, Renjun. I have been for a long time, and it took me four, almost five, years to see that because I never thought to listen to my own heart until now. I don’t think I will ever deserve you in his lifetime, but I love you. I’m selfish and I’m a mess and I always cause trouble for you, but I—”

Renjun wraps an arm around your waist and tugs your body flush against his. His hand comes up to cradle your cheek as his thumb lightly runs across your cheekbone. You’re clutching his shirt like a lifeline, holding your breath, as you stare into those gray eyes.

“You,” he whispers, his lips barely brushing against yours, “are more than I deserve.”

He leans in and closes the infinitesimal gap between your mouths. He kisses you desperately, like you’ll disappear any moment, and you can feel all of the emotions he’s been locking away. His arms are wound tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. You weave your hands through his hair, and he deepens the kiss. Your shirt rides up as you shift, and you feel his hand slip up your shirt and rest against your back. It ignites a fire within you and you want to tell him to take it off completely, but your lungs are screaming for air, so you have no choice but to pull away.

“Sorry,” Renjun says breathlessly, his chest heaving up and down, as he takes his hand out from under your shirt.

“No, I liked it,” you say, shaking your head and placing your forehead against his. “I just ran out of air.”

“No,” he disagrees, “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. It was supposed to be a sweet kiss, but I lost control.” 

He tugs your shirt back down and gently sets you back down next to him. You can’t help but giggle at how flustered he is. It’s not often that Athena children, especially Huang Renjun, loses control of their emotions like that. 

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” he says wryly, rolling his eyes. 

“You know,” you say in a sing-song voice, “I still technically never broke my streak. I found you a girlfriend within five days.”

“Does it really count if you ended up being my girlfriend?” He raises an eyebrow. “Seems a little unprofessional to me.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you taunt.

“You also said you were going to make me fall in love so hard that I’d forget my own name,” he points out. “And I didn’t, so that’s false advertising. Unprofessional and unethical? I could sue you.” 

“You are so petty,” you squint. “And come on! That kiss didn’t make your forget? It made me forget!”

“I don’t like you that much.” He deadpans.

“Huang Renjun, you are so not cute!” 

4 YEARS AGO.

“It’s not my best work, so you can have it,” Renjun says, trying to act casual about it.

You look so happy that Renjun would have painted a thousand more if you asked him to. You have a smile that could make the goddesses envious, and he can barely hear what you’re saying over the thumping of his own heart. He hopes his expression looks somewhat elusive because he’s not sure how to handle himself right now. 

You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. 

Renjun feels like he’s been shot by Eros’ arrow. He used to never understand why everyone was so wary of Eros; he’s basically just a mascot for corny Valentine’s Day cards. Apollo and his children avoid Eros and his children like the plague. Though granted, Eros did force Apollo to fall in love with Daphne and then she ended up turning into a tree. So, there is a little bit of history there. Point being, Renjun just didn’t get it.

But he think he does now.

“Thank you so much!” you say excitedly, extending your hand. “I’m Y/N!”

Renjun just stupidly stares at you. He’s not even sure if he’s worthy to touch your hand, but he also doesn’t want to be rude. He carefully shakes your hand, unable to say a word.

“What’s your name?” you ask, tilting your head. 

Is it possible for a person to be this adorable? he thinks to himself.

“I’m...” 

You’re looking at him, waiting expectantly.

“I’m...”

You’re still smiling, but he can see the slight confusion in your eyes. He’s never felt like more of a moron in his life. 

“Ren...jun,” he finally says after an extreme amount of concentration. 

You beam at him, and he wonders if he’s the only one seeing the ring of light surrounding you. There’s no way you aren’t Aphrodite’s favorite child.

“Nice to meet you, Renjun! Let’s be friends.” 

Renjun isn’t sure he wants to be just friends, but he finds himself nodding along anyways. 

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in trouble.

[yui-kuromori]

Mafia AU aesthetics

Based on this AU I wrote.

Because Hatter is extra like that, he likes to keep a very specific wonderland aesthetic for his group, and works hard to keep it while fitting their own personal tastes.

Danma Takeru – Mad Hatter - Hatter goes all out. He has this colorful, patchwork trench coat he wears all the time and multiple color lenses sunglasses he changes every day. From time to time he’ll wear an actual top hat. He sometimes uses temporary hair dye to get some colorful streaks. When he does have to wear formal clothing, it’s a brightly colored suit. The only other outfit he owns are psychedelic boxers and silk robes. It’s not unusual to see him walking around half naked in the gang’s hideout. He has typical yakuza tattoos mixed with bright, watercolor abstract tattoos from his arms, to his shoulders to his chest. Every member has a specific piece of jewelry and his is his “boss” ring.

Aguni Morizono – Bandersnatch - Listen. Aguni doesn’t like to dress up. He owns five black tank tops he wears in rotation, no matter the weather. He does have the Bandersnatch tattooed on his left shoulder blade. He will sometimes wear fuzzy socks that imitate the beast’s pattern. He also has an apron with it printed on him, that has mysterious stains that no one has the guts to question. His custom piece of jewelry his a thin chain with a claw charm that he wears under his shirt.

Chishiya Shuntaro – Cheshire - Chishiya is surprisingly open to Hatter’s antics. Because his work is mostly going undercover, he can’t have anything that’s too flashy. He has Cheshire Cat smiles embroidered on the edges of all his hoodies. He has very minimal, single line tattoos behind his ears, and Niragi’s been talking him into getting his neck covered. I feel like he’d have custom stamped sneakers and a cat eared hoodie. Smudgy eyeliner, always. His jewelry is a simple hoop earring with a smile engraved on it.

Kuina Hikari – Caterpillar or Absolem - Kuina is a fashion queen. She takes one look at the movie’s caterpillar and goes with the blue color pallet for most of her outfits. Butterflies, butterflies everywhere, in her tops, in her bras, even in her makeup, with butterfly shaped glitter around her eyes. She has a puffy jacket that imitates the caterpillar’s body. She has butterflies tattooed on her upper arm and shoulder and the trans flag on her ankle. Her piece of jewelry is a cocoon shaped charm that she hangs on her hair.

Niragi Suguru – March Hare - This man’s fashion sense is a mess, crazy shirts, colors and tight pants. His guns are all engraved with hares and hare ears. He has this blood red coat inspired by the animated movie that Hatter gave him. He has patchwork tattoos all over his body. His piece of jewelry is surprisingly simple, his tongue piercing that Aguni did when he first joined the gang. That’s why he’s always so proud to show it.

Samura Takatora (Last Boss) – Jabberwocky - Scales, scales everywhere. On the hilt of his sword, on the leather of his vest, on the soles of his shoes. His tattoos are very obvious, so when he’s on civilian duty, he actually has to cover them up with makeup. He looks so different that he can easily slip by police. His piece of jewelry is a dragon shaped ear cuff.

Ann Rizuna – White Queen - Pristine white suits and shirts and blood red lips. Her iconic white lab coat gave her her codename. Her sunglasses have little crowns on the frames. She has the human skeleton tattooed from her shoulders, across her chest and stomach to her hips. Her scalpels and tools are all engraved with icons representing the other members and she’s named them after them (a small sharp one named Arisu, a loud bone saw named Last boss). Her piece of jewelry is actually her sunglasses, that are way more expensive than anyone would guess.

Kodai Tatta – Dormouse or Arganaz - His cap has little a little mouse embroidered on the flap and he’ll often wear a loose purple bow tie around his neck. He has mouse keychains and teacups painted on his sneakers and coats. He wears a lot of jeans and T-shirts and he lets Hatter and Arisu paint whatever they want on them. He has a needle thin small knife he barely uses, that is covered in Ann’s special brand of poison. His tattoos are small and scattered. Spirited away smooth spirits on his wrist, starts behind his ears. His piece of jewelry is a small Dormouse ring he wears on his pinky finger.

Usagi Yuzuha – White Rabbit - She has rabbits everywhere! Surprisingly cutesy stuff too! On her peach hoodie, on her tank tops and gym shorts. She has a soft pink bunny stamped baseball bat that definitely became red once or twice. Hatter tried to get her to wear bunny ears, but failed after one glare from her. Kuina does her nails every week, and it’s their cute little moment. She gets sparkly sailor moon inspired stuff. She has cherry blossoms tattooed on her back and a letter from her father on her forearm. She also has a quote from Alice in Wonderland on her wrist that matches Arisu’s. Her piece of jewelry are customized brass knuckles Aguni got her and a pocket watch from hatter.

Arisu Ryohei - Alice - Pastel blues, white and red. A lot of trump card inspired accessories. He wears a lot of T-shirts and he has graphic stamps for every character from the books. His computer has Alice’s silhouette on the back of it. He’s got a pastel blue hoodie that he may have or may have not stolen from Chishiya. He has flowers tattooed covering up his top surgery scars, a minimal homage to “Pong” (first videogame ever) in one ankle, and a small wolf on the other (Shibuki, Karube and Chouta all have sheep. It’s an inside joke no one ever figured out), and an Alice in wonderland quote that matches Usagi’s. His piece of jewelry is a bracelet with the trump suits charms.

Extra: sometimes, when he’s working, he’ll get into the zone and not notice what’s around him, and Kuina will jokingly put Usagi’s bunny ears on him. He’ll just spend hours working and walking around with them on, not understanding the weird looks he’s getting.

[mateoftheshadowsinger]

Just a reminder that Azriel (the quiet and somewhat solitary member of the IC), voluntarily seeks out Elain. More than that, he initiates contact/touch with her; something that he VERY RARELY does outside of training and winnowing. Azriel is portrayed to be fairly introverted, and while he doesn’t always seek to avoid socializing, he usually isn’t one to initiate it outside of work related topics. Instead, he’s content to remain just on the outside of things, casually observing/listening. However, with Elain it’s as if he finds any and every excuse to interact with her. So in other words, here we have Az, who is likely uncomfortable with touch (given the untold amount of trauma he faced during his childhood and sense of unworth), actually seeking out Elain.

I apologize in advance, this is going to be one of my longer posts. I’ve put together a list of instances where Az initiates contact between himself and Elain (I also added the scenes where they winnow/fly together because I like to think he chooses to winnow/fly her).

> “Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden- brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders (ACOWAR).

Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” She seemed so small before him, so fragile compared to the scales of his fighting leathers, the breadth of his shoulders. The wings peeking over them. But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.” Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, sunlight bathing them” (ACOWAR).

“The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still... I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went” (ACOWAR). *one of my favorite scenes because they’re holding hands! I can just picture them still holding hands as he leads her to the garden*

“Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her”(ACOWAR).

Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. “Hold tight,” he ordered her, “and don’t make a sound.”(ACOWAR).

“Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out.” (ACOWAR)

“Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. “It has never failed me once,” the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. “Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.” He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.” (ACOWAR)

“Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.” (ACOWAR)

Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. (ACOSF)

Azriel’s hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain’s mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.” (ACOSF)

There were more I probably could have added (especially with the necklace), but those were the the most significant. I also wanted to add one more quote, to point out that Az KNELT before Elain (which has long been associated with mates).

“I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her.” (ACOWAR)

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Nine

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 9 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: strong language; use of a derogatory slur/racist language (not said by any main character); mentions of blood and injuries; angst!  

Word Count: 11,200+

A/N: One more chapter after this - I should really stop labeling this as a mini-series considering it’s already over 100,000 total words lmao. Thank you for staying with me this long! I love you guys soooo much!!!

~

Utah Merry Hotel, January 2025, 2:09pm

     “I’m being an ol’ sport, why can’t you?” You whine, stomping your feet as you trudged up the stairs to the hotel roof. “It’s our first serious stakeout in forever! I’m pretty sure Wanda shaved her legs for this.”

Steve shoots a flustered and unsettled look over his shoulder. He’s lugging the rifles and extra equipment on both his shoulders so you know he’s truly baffled because to even attempt a look over… well, that required real effort. He doesn’t answer, however; he continues upward. 

Bucky and Clint are following close behind. They’re tired, huffing every few steps and grunting while doing so. Finally, Bucky whines and throws himself against the wall dramatically. “Remind me why we couldn’t just get Wanda and Sam to lift us up there?”

Steve readjusts one of the rifle straps while he replies, “Buck, I told you not to skip leg day.”

“I skip ‘everything’ day. I’m just now employed as a superhero, thank you very much. The serum should be enough.”

“Are we even close?” Clint asks and passes Bucky on a few steps. Bucky takes that as a challenge though and hoists himself more steps before giving up again. 

You just watch in pure amusement. Makes you really proud that your thighs are stronger than theirs. “Just a few more flights.”

They both groan in unison. Steve has already rounded the next flight, no longer waiting on the three of you. It takes several more minutes until you kick open the roof door Steve had left slightly ajar. It’s cold outside, wind howling with icy droplets whipping through your hair. It’s only fifty stories up but it’s pretty high - you can see the tops of the trees, or branches really. It’s winter in Utah and most of the trees are naked and covered in snow. You hope Bucky and Clint, the dynamic duo no one saw coming, still have good aim in this wind after a year of vacation. 

“Alright. Buck - Clint, set up over there. Y/N, you’re over there.” 

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

You set up where Steve instructed. You’ve got a simple magnifier and some binoculars - you won’t have to do any shooting today, thank the Gods. Clint’s got his arrows and Bucky’s got his sniper. Steve’s waiting for a signal from Sam if need be - he won’t need to shoot today either. 

“Wanda and Sam will let us know when the cars pass the barrier. The tech cannot, under any circumstances, pass through the gate right over there.” Steve points to the giant, black coated metal gate. There’s no one on duty. You made sure to evacuate the area and any staff before. The tech these goons are bringing in is all stolen Stark Tech. And according to Happy, strict instructions are to ‘blow it to Hell’.  

“And if it does?” Bucky asks, grinning mischievously at Steve’s pointed look. 

“What’d I just say?”

Bucky laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. “Damn, Stevie. Calm thyne tits.” He goes back to fiddling with his rifle. “Blow the tires before they reach the gates but after they pass the barrier. Got it.”

“Peter, you in position?” Steve asks and adjusts his earpiece. 

You can hear Peter over your own mic. “Seatbelts look easy enough to break. I’m in position, I can easily pull them from the trucks.”

“Five minutes then.”

You all settle in. The cold has passed through the leather of your boots and your toes are paying the price. It makes you miss the rain of spring and the sprinkles of fall, when everything is drenched rather than frozen and your toes still have mobility. Your jacket is big enough but it scratches your neck every time you lean down to look through the magnifier. As the minutes tick by, you brave the cold and take it off. You’d rather conduct your part efficiently and without the constant distraction. 

“It’s almost forty degrees out,” Steve mumbles beside you. He’s looking over the roof balcony and into the trees. He’s squints and refuses your offer of binoculars. 

“So I get a sore throat.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Tony put a heater in all our suits. You should have worn yours.”

“My suit is half nano. It’s excessive for a stakeout.”

He huffs but you ignore him, choosing to look through the rejected binoculars instead. He shuffles, and then there’s a warm weight enveloping your shoulders. It’s his sweater, cotton and baby blue, and he lifts the hood to cover your cheeks and ears. Your stomach flip-flops.

“Uh, thank you,” you say and zip it closed.

Steve shrugs lightly, “Don’t mention it.”

So you don’t. He doesn’t look cold besides or he’s just really good at masking it. It’s quiet now; you can’t really hear the quiet mutters of Clint and Bucky enough to join in and to not mention the jacket is eating at you. You opt for a casual conversation instead while you wait. 

“Soooo… how’d your date go last week?”

Steve clears his throat and turns to you, a forced grin on his face. “They, uh, they were sweet.”

“Sweet,” you repeat, nodding at nothing and cursing yourself for creating such an awkward moment. “Going on a second one?”

He sighs and his expression actually turns truthful. “No, don’t see that happening.”

For a second, you’re appalled. Who wouldn’t give Steve a second date? He’s an absolute catch and being a famous superhero wasn’t exactly a dealbreaker for many. Or maybe it was and Steve was blaming his alias once again for no fairytale ending. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t want you?”

The words leave your mouth too quickly to reel them back in. Steve’s cheeks turn pinker, both from your words and the chill, and he ducks his head low as he answers. “It’s my fault, really. They were sweet but I wasn’t paying much attention.”

“Mm, on your phone? Daydreaming? Were they a bore?”

Steve chuckles, “I pulled out my phone, like, once to answer a text but I was a proper gentleman!”

The tension is slowly melting and there’s a soft twinkle in his eye as he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s looked at you this way: on his own accord and not on order. “Bucky said they were, and I quote,” you lower your voice and look over at Bucky to make sure he’s distracted. “‘Cute as hell’.”

Steve gives Bucky a warm look. “Eh, it’s fine. Wasn’t the one.”

“The one,” you mock in a deep voice. “Who texted you that it was so important to ignore someone cute as hell?”

Steve hesitates and looks over the balcony as if wishing for an interruption. But the trucks aren’t near yet and Sam hasn’t given the signal. “Uh, it was Peter.”

“Oh, don’t tell him that. He’ll feel incredibly guilty if he ruined your chances at getting laid.”

Steve shoves your shoulder a bit harder than he intended and it makes you stumble back. He quickly catches you by the arm and holds you still, a sheepish smile painting his pink face. He mumbles a quick ‘sorry’, and goes back to lean over the railing. “It’s cool, he knew.”

You fake a surprised gasp, “Even worse!”

“He needed me to stop by the compound and I did. Really, it’s okay,” Steve assures and he’s speaking a little quicker. He fidgets with his thumbs and it looks like he wants to wrap up that portion of the conversation. But he looks over at you and sighs deeply, and he rolls his eyes as his upper lip tilts upward. “Ask.”

“What’d he want?” It makes your belly all warm to know he expects this enthusiasm from you.

“Wanted me around. Buck and Wanda were out getting dinner.”

“Yeah, but like, what for?”

He gives you a knowing smile, like you walked right into that trap. “You made dinner but Peter was too nice to say he didn’t enjoy it, so he texted me knowing I would like it. Knowing I had it before. He didn’t want there to be leftovers because then you’d be sad.”

You step back and shake your head like there’s a fly swarming around. It startles you. “You left your date… during dinner… to come to the compound to eat the dinner I made instead?”

“Don’t think too much about it.”

“How not?”

It’s five minutes when Sam calls it in. You groan in frustration and give Steve a look that says the conversation isn’t over. 

There are four armored vehicles and the magnifier illuminates three bodies per car. The targets will be hit starting from the last to keep the explosions out of each driver’s line of sight. 

“Target acquired,” Bucky mumbles and clicks off his safety. He closes one eye and settles comfortably as he awaits Steve’s signal.         

Clint tugs back an arrow, “Same here, Cap.”

“Wanda, you ready?” Steve’s voice is lower when he’s focused. He looks over at you, your hand up with an index finger raised, and waits. Wanda answers that she’s ready and Sam counts it down. The first truck crosses the barrier, then the next, next, and finally the fourth and you drop your hand in a fast swipe. 

“Fire! Go Parker!”

Bucky shoots the back tires of all four vehicles and Clint shoots his arrows to penetrate through the passenger doors. Peter works fast, webs slinging from side to side grabbing one passenger right after the other. Once the trucks are empty, Clint activates the arrows and you all prepare for the explosions. The fourth car catches flame first and Wanda contains the explosion perfectly, balling it up into a weak bundle of light and string. She does the same to the third and second, bundles extinguishing just as quickly as they burst. But the first car swings out of control on manual and the explosion is delayed.

“Clint?”

Clint leans over the balcony and squints, as if it would help. “I don’t know. It’s not going off.” He’s clicking the detonator repeatedly, holding it up for all of you to see. 

“Wanda, the truck! The truck! Sam!” You scream as the truck crashes through the gate and hurls closer to the hotel. The commotion is enough for Bucky to pop out from his cover and the four of you watch in horror as the truck still doesn’t stop. Clint has stopped clicking the button, but it’s no use. The truck finally explodes in an outbreak of debris and electricity. The Stark Tech reacts poorly to the strain, electric gusts of smoke fire left and right and rattle the building. It feels like an earthquake, shaking the already weak foundations and old brick. Wanda catches the bottom to better contain it and tries desperately to smother it. But the shaking doesn’t stop and the corners of the roof are collapsing. 

Steve leaps to grab and pull you away and just as quickly to catch Clint’s leg before he falls over the edge. Clint is thrown back rather harshly but Steve isn’t thinking about the abuse of strength right now - no, not while Bucky slips and hangs on to a rogue pipe. Steve crawls and latches onto his hand before the pipe gives way. He yells as he tugs Bucky up with only one arm, the other having to hold onto undisturbed brick. He won't let Bucky fall. Not again.

Bucky throws his leg up and over solid ground, and you go to help Steve pull him up. Bucky’s heavy and his metal hand pinches your skin bad but he’s safe. Wanda struggles to contain the electricity but she’s succeeding. The rumbling slows until nothing moves anymore. You collapse back in exhaustion.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” Bucky gasps as he rubs his face. 

“Is Wanda okay?” You mumble more to yourself and struggle to pull yourself back up. But the sudden weight of your body proves too much for the edge and in a horrible wave, you’re falling through. You practically file your nails as you try to latch onto falling brick.

“No!” You feel the scratch of someone’s fingers along your forearm and soon they’re digging into your skin, and it hurts but you figure it’s better than splitting your skull open. Pebbles of concrete are falling down onto your face and the smoke from the explosion is clogging your nostrils. You hang for a few seconds, like the person can’t believe they actually caught you. Then they begin pulling you up, lifting you to safety, and you claw the rest of the way only to tumble into Steve’s chest, shaking. 

He pulls you into his arms but they’re restless, roaming over your shoulders and through your knotted hair clumsily. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His voice wavers and he’s on the verge of tears, it seems. His waterline is glossy and his lips are quivering. “Answer me.”

“I’m fine, hey. Steve? I’m good.”

He pulls away and his hands hover you like he doesn’t know what else to do with them. “I’m sorry. I should have kept you close. I-” His voice cracks and he swallows hard. “You sure you’re okay?”

Disregarding his words is difficult, especially when you feel a second meaning to them, but you force yourself to do so. It’s been such a long time since you’ve seen him like this. And each time you have, it was never because of anything good. “Y-yeah. I’m good, Rogers.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, they look at Steve, to you, and back to each other. Finally, Clint breaks the silence and huffs a light chuckle. “Are we really THAT rusty?”

Present Day, 2025, 11:45pm

    The Montana skies are clear and free of passenger planes, allowing the Quinjet to swift easily on autopilot. You could never drive this thing and the building anxiety of that reality bubbles each time it makes an unsteady bounce. 

Steve’s laying in the makeshift medical wing and though it’s against protocol, he’s on a secure line with Dr. Cho. She takes her time, albeit working as fast as possible too, and her light voice is fairly calm. It settles you to hear her speak this way. 

‘I need you to use this disinfectant, Captain Rogers. Do not pour it on all at once… Good, now dig through gently and make sure the pliers are sanitized.’

Steve digs out the bullets himself and bites down on a clean towel. He’s biting down hard enough that his teeth make a squeaking sound against it. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not do it for him. The Montana skies are beautiful, at least. It’s a good distraction. 

Steve gives a rather painful yell as he finally plucks the second bullet, cursing as a stream of blood drips onto the table. He’s got such tough skin - miracle or serum - that the bullets didn’t pass all the way through. Dr. Cho moves on to how to properly bandage the wound but Steve begins to tune her out. 

Two years mucking through mud and bodies and getting patched up every other day has prepared him for whatever life may throw during this new century. Not much has changed, it seems. 

When the line disconnects, Steve can finally just relax. He focuses on the soft rumble of the engine and your steady breaths. 

     You hold your breath as you settle the Quinjet on the open field, only half of you actually trusting automatic tech. Steve coaches you the whole time too, the little shit, and promises you’ll never be doing that again. 

Steve stumbles and teeters and falls on the porch steps with a low groan. You let him fall because you know you’d only fall with him. He catches himself with the hand he’s been pressing over the bandage while the other still holds on to you. You fight the urge to crash down with him and bite your lip as you look up to the night sky. 

“C’mon, Rogers,” you swallow down the increasing worry, “We’re almost inside.”

Steve huffs a pained laugh and nods. He grabs your arm again and with his remaining strength, pulls himself up,

The inside of the cabin looks comfier than the outside. You help Steve to the couch closest to the unlit fireplace before going out back to turn on the power. There’s a thin layer of ice in the grass so just in case, you scope out the garage and make sure there are snow supplies. Not that you really know what the hell snow supplies actually look like, but there’s a shovel and you figure that’s as much as your brain is going to piece together. 

When you get back inside, Steve’s fumbling with the coffee maker and leaving tiny fingerprints of blood over every surface he touches. You don’t comment on them, just step back and discreetly wipe the counters each time he passes. 

“Figured you’d like a pot,” Steve says. 

It damn near breaks your heart how small his voice sounds. The fact he’s stumbling around the cabin making sure you’ve got your coffee fix while he’s nursing two bullet wounds damn near snaps it in two.

“Thank you,” you respond and go to lead him back to the couch. He moans quietly when he sits and again as you lay him down. “I hope you don’t think I’m sleeping here,” Steve laughs and tries to hide his wince due the uncomfortable rumble. 

You smile and touch your hand to his hot cheek. His body is working overtime fighting off infection and regenerating tissue. His cheeks are a lovely scarlet red and so is the beautiful bulb of his crooked nose. He’s a little shiny, like varnish over light paint strokes, and taking the fever like a champ. “I’ll help you to the bed in a little bit. Let’s get that fever down first.”

Steve sighs, defeated, but nods. He lays his head back on the pillow and once he shuts his eyes, you get to work. The bathroom is stocked with the simple necessities: aloe vera, vapor rub, heating and cold pads, dozens of towels, and painkillers. You pop two painkillers yourself before gathering everything and dropping it on a nearby table in the kitchen. The coffee is about done brewing so you fill up a mug with bottled water and set it in the microwave for two minutes. You dip a chamomile tea bag a few times once the water is heated. There’s no teapot - you’ll apologize to Steve later. 

Once Steve’s happily sipping his tea, you start on the medicine. You wet the small towels and lay them over his forehead and bare chest. You rub aloe vera on the other cuts he obtained from hand-to-hand and finally rub the vapor rub in the dip of his neck and just below his nose. Steve gives you this funny smile as you do so, scrunching his nose and wiggling it back and forth. 

“Vicks,” you say as you show him the small container. “Heal you right up.”

“I bet,” he laughs. “Stuff smells like what I think liquid morphine would taste.” A laugh bursts from your chest, your first real instance of calm during these last few hours. You ignore his protests and smother more across his chest. 

Steve settles deeper into the couch and returns to his tea. He’s got less sweat on his skin now but he’s still red. You go to pour yourself that coffee and return to his side. The nanotech is growing stiffer and scratching your skin but you refuse to get comfortable until Steve’s fever breaks. You’re still covered in Ernesto’s blood, the red now a hellish brown, and you try not to move your face much for risk of feeling the dry pull of it. 

“Steve,” you try, but Steve shakes his head and makes sure to meet your gaze before he speaks. 

“No. The less I know the better.”

It surprises you, makes you feel more guilty, but you understand. Not telling him the full truth would be beneficial in the long run. Still, your hands hug the mug closer to your chest. “Do you think I did something bad?”

His upper lip tugs upward, “Do you think you did something bad?”

You don’t think for long. There’s not much need to. “No.”

He nods, “But you care what I think?”

“Of course I do. You’re not just my Captain anymore - you’re my friend. I care even when I’m asking you if my eggs need more salt.”

“You trust me enough to correct your cooking?” He teases, but it’s a question disguised as another. 

“I trust you enough to tell me if I need more salt. You’re not correcting it.” He laughs and dips deeper into the couch. The bandage is bleeding through, only slightly, so you move to find the first-aid kit. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It’ll stop bleeding soon.”

You hum your disagreement. “I’m gonna keep it clean until you’re strong enough to shower.”

“You can always help me shower,” he mumbles into his tea. 

Rolling your eyes, you gently nudge his shoulder as you sit back down with the kit. “If you fall, I can’t catch you, you big lug. We’d have to tell everyone we screwed in there because you falling on top of me, injured, is somehow more embarrassing.”

He allows you to remove the soiled bandage and dab around the healing wounds. He’s bruising around the sides, multiple shades of green and yellow already, and the holes are stitched rather poorly. It makes you feel a little better about your own criss-cross work - even Steve sucks at it. 

“I’m sorry I had to go and get myself shot,” Steve apologizes and sucks in a deep breath when the towel drags a little too roughly. 

“Yeah, what the hell happened there?”

He almost mimics you in the way he shrugs his shoulders and lifts his arms in that ‘well, fuck if I know’ position, pursing his lips and expelling a chuckle. “Had my gun trained on Ernesto. Ernesto had his own on Ramirez. Then Seda came in and Ernesto ordered Ramirez to hand his over to Seda. Played right into Seda’s hands.”

You process the explanation slowly and dab his wound a few more times before unwrapping the clean bandage. “And the damn shield?”

Steve’s embarrassed by that small detail, he’ll admit it, because he truly was blindsided by Seda’s appearance. You were supposed to be holding him down after all. “In my defense! When it’s shrunk down and in your pocket rather than latched onto one’s arm, it’s easily forgettable.”

You clean around the wound softly before placing and taping the new bandage. The conversation settles and you’re both quiet for a long, long minute. He thanks you for cleaning him up by rubbing sweet circles into the knuckles of your right hand. Finally, you can’t take it anymore. It’s like a wave of irrefutable worry and rage, all bunched together with each emotion trying to outweigh the other. That goddamn riptide, sucking you in and keeping your head below water just for the hell of it. Breathing in harshly, you fail to keep yourself from stuttering over your words. “I’m sorry.”

Steve bites back a groan of pain as he leans over to take your cheeks in his palms. The brush of his fingertips lets you know that you’ve already started crying. You don’t much care about the facade anymore. “Doll, listen to me. Listen.”

“I never meant to leave you alone.”

“You never did.”

You bark out a wet laugh, sarcastic. “I should have run faster. I should have killed him all those years ago. I should have never brought you into this.”

“You did what you had to do,” he says, fiercely. He forgets his own strength for a second, only slightly diminished from the healing process, and loosens his tight grip against your cheeks. “You did what you had to do to survive.”

“I wanted to hate you,” you admit. Your bottom lip is trembling and your hands clench together over your thighs. “I wanted to hate you so much. If I did, then you getting hurt or killed on this mission wouldn’t hurt so bad. I hated you for what you did. Because it made me realize that I could never hate you at all.”

“Hey,” he tries, hands now lowering to clutch at your own. “Stop apologizing for having a heart. Stop thinking you’re not worthy of even having one.”

Your face crumbles and Steve realizes for the first time in a long time just how much you’ve been holding in. “Why didn’t you use the stones?”

Steve’s heart clenches at the sound of the crack in your voice. He hasn’t heard that crack since Clint fell to his knees without Natasha by his side. He holds onto you tighter and prepares himself for an admission he never thought he would ever have to give. “Because Peggy told me not to.”

Something confusing happens in the middle of your chest. It clenches with anger but understanding. The answer to your question was always this simple but it looks like it’s tearing Steve apart from the inside-out.

    She’s as beautiful as the day he went into the ice. All he has to do is whisper her name so sweetly, delicately, and she turns her head like she’s answering the prayer. First her knees buckle, eyes watering and blotching her vision, and she collapses on the soft grass of her backyard. Steve’s holding her the very next second, repeating that he’s real, he’s here. 

“Steve,” Peggy gasps, hands shaking as she brings them to his wet cheeks. She grips and pokes and does everything so comically that Steve laughs a wet laugh when she starts smacking him. “What is going on?”

And he tells her. Everything he can remember: the good, the bad, the wretched. He spills everything, and he spills the most delicate information of their time: he’s alive, just frozen; Bucky’s alive, just hurt; the world is saved, just broken. Whether she believes it or not Steve’s not sure, but he’s so goddamn happy to see her again that he chokes every other word. 

“And you? You’re happy?”

His eyebrows come together and he looks at Peggy like she’s speaking another language. She’s got the same red lipstick, same curl in her hair even if it’s longer now, and she’s filling out her dresses more. “Pegs, don’t ask me that.”

She detaches herself slowly from his arms, pausing their dance as she speaks. “Why not? You can’t expect me to accept that you stopped by to see me all willy-nilly after saving the universe.” Her lips twitch into a knowing smile and Steve melts. Her voice is sending him into a spiral, a world he never thought he would see again, and he realizes just how much he loves accents on women  - especially this woman. 

“I just,” he chokes out, and brushes his index finger down her cheek. “I had to see you again.”

“I get that,” Peggy says and pays no mind that the record player has stopped; she still sways gently with Steve. “But you’ve just mentioned a whole other world you’ve been a part of. You’ve got your best guy back, that Wilson fellow sounds like the life of the party, and this Agent Y/N certainly sounds like she’s been by your side through it all.”

Steve stutters in his step and holds her closer. Her stomach presses against his, and he stops abruptly. He looks down between them and runs his hand from her shoulder, down, to lay across her growing belly. “Pegs.”

She gives him the same wide and proud smile she gave him when he returned with the 107th. She lays her hand over his. “I know.” She laughs and tilts her head lovingly. “I’m happy, too.”

Steve bites his lip to keep from sobbing. He was so stupid for coming to this timeline, for ruining Peggy’s chance at happiness, for interrupting the life he already knew she created for herself. He inputted the wrong year, he suddenly realizes, and steps back arms-length from her. “I’m sorry, I was stupid to come here. I just wanted to see you and then I did, and I… I still love you, Pegs.”

“Oh,” Peggy gasps, bottom lip trembling. “Darling, do not mistake yourself, even for a second, into thinking that I do not love you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing for having a heart.”

He wants to argue, say he’s stupid a million more times, but he finds himself listening to her gentle words. It’s Peggy, Steve thinks. She’s always been right.

“In this world you live in, you have James?” He nods. She continues, “In this world you live in, you just lost two of your most loved friends?” He nods again. He wipes his face from forehead to chin. “In this world you live in, you have met a woman who has the same stubbornness as you; has the same self-sacrificing streak, who has your heart in such shambles that you dare call her one of your best friends?”

Steve thinks of you and how broken your smile was as you waved him goodbye, hand clenching Sam’s as Steve gathered the stones and Mjolnir. He thinks of the times you’d leap onto his back and demand a ride; the times he’s saved your ass in a firefight; how his sleep has definitely improved ever since he started calming you from nightmares - he hasn’t slept so well since before the war. He nods again.

Her eyes go soft. “Steve,” she starts and Steve knows. He doesn’t want to know. “Don’t abandon the world you’ve built for yourself. Surround yourself with the people you love. Do this for me.”

“There’s so much hate and blood waiting for me when I get back, Pegs. I don’t want to-”

“There is a difference between you not wanting to and you having to.” He drops his head and focuses on the floor. Peggy isn’t done grilling him, however, and he looks back up to grant her the respect. “You must not abandon the world you helped create. I’m not saying this to be mean. I’m saying this because I know you don’t want to.”

“Pegs.”

“I see right through you, Steve. We marched together through mud and blood before. We’ve got two years of fighting side by side under our belts. I’ve seen you at your worst, and you I. I know that face anywhere.”

“I missed you, Pegs,” Steve breathes. She cups his face with her hands and draws their foreheads together.

“The stars weren’t written in our favor. But to know that you’re alive, and that you make it, and that you actually get to live,” she bites back a sob. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

“It isn’t my world to begin with.”

“No, you’re a man out of time. But so is James. You won’t abandon him now, will you?”

He chuckles low and their noses touch. “Stop making me feel guilty for wanting to find you, Peggy.”

She presses a soft kiss to the side of his mouth and finally breaks away. “And you won’t abandon that sweet girl who has put up with your nonsense for the last five years, you say?”

Steve shakes his head and meets Peggy’s gaze. “I’m just tired.”

“They are too, I bet.” He turns to the door and to Peggy, and she figures it’s almost time for him to leave. “You have been the archer and the brave, Steve. I’m absolutely certain you’ve been more. You will be more.”

Steve says his final goodbyes and stops to remember the fine details of Peggy’s face. The fifties are treating her well. Steve expected nothing less. Bright lights flash around him and he’s back to the world he wanted to leave, to hide from, and he sees you - and your mouth parts in shock.

     “And you listened to her?” you ask. 

Steve smiles, although it’s hard for him to remember that conversation. “I came back. I didn’t listen to her when she said to surround myself with people who love me, and who I love in return.”

“No, you made damn sure of that.”

“Hey,” Steve chuckles. “Don’t take smacks at me when you’re down.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Sorry, it’s just too easy sometimes.” Laughing about the two years of missed chances and spoiled friendship was not on your bingo card for this week. 

“I don’t know how this is going to play out,” you admit. Steve looks so young with a somber expression: his eyebrow creases gently without wrinkling the rest of his forehead, the side of his mouth tilts downward, and his eyelashes kiss the pink of cheeks. “I decided in the moment. So I’m fuck all out of ideas on how to proceed.”

He nods in understanding. “Guess we just have to look over our shoulders three times instead of two now.”

“Simple like that?” You scrub a hand over your face and curse inwardly when you smudge your lipstick down to your chin. You ignore it. “I know we’re Avengers, but.”

“No buts,” Steve says and moves to sit up. You help him by pushing his shoulders and he accepts your help as you struggle to the bathroom. “You helped the guy and his daughter. I’m sure he’s going to be watching our backs from now on.”

You help Steve strip from his dress pants and shoes and finally remove your suit as well. The graze on your arm is covered in brown, dried blood but the wound isn’t deep. It’ll sting like a sunburn, you know that, but it’s better than being shot through. You watch Steve enter the shower and leave the curtain drawn. His bandage is soaked again but thankfully it’s from the water and not more blood. You grab a spare towel and soak it with water and soap, and rub it across your lips and chin. 

“Let me do that,” Steve calls. You strip bare and bring the towel with you into the shower. Steve takes it and scrubs over your face, gently but more rough as he gets to your eyes. It’s an innocent moment of ‘ouch, scrub softer!’ and ‘surprised I didn’t take all your lashes off’. He helps clean your wound as well and once you’re both clean, he bandages you up and you him. 

The master bedroom is the only room without electricity so you gather some candles. It’s like the two of you won’t admit you’re currently afraid of the dark or what may lie in it. They illuminate the room in a delicate orange and it’s such a peaceful color to briefly see before falling asleep, head tucked into Steve’s chest and his heartbeat thrumming gently with your breath. 

     It’s a wonder what a night’s sleep can do. Steve’s wounds are sealed and his fever is gone, but there’s a signature left behind. A pink and white patch of skin as tender as a newborn’s, a memory. Steve pours your coffee and his tea while you trace your fingers over it.

Two hours after eating a small breakfast and securing the perimeter, a soft ding startles you from the random book you’re reading. Steve’s phone shines with a message from Sam. It simply reads: ‘Clear’. Grabbing the phone and walking out onto the porch, you find Steve sitting on one of the steps he tripped over just yesterday. He’s sketching the sky and the trees, taking his time on the lines of the branches, the strokes of the leaves, and the frost over them. He looks up, studies his surroundings, and looks back down to add a detail he previously missed. He sniffs, rubs his nose, and finally notices you leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hey,” he says, soft. “Any news?”

You hold up his phone and nod. “Sam says we’re clear to fly in.”

Steve looks back to his drawing. You hesitate before speaking, knowing damn well an all clear means get your ass back as soon as possible. “Finish your drawing. I’ll pack whatever we need to.” Steve’s mouth parts but he shuts it just as quickly. Slowly, he nods. 

     There isn’t much to pack since you brought nothing but the clothes on your backs. Everything at the hotel was collected before the wedding and should have flown back with Scott and the others. It feels awkward stealing bottled water and processed foods to hoard on the quinjet, but it’s a necessity. Steve meets you at the quinjet doors, shows you his drawing, and volunteers to take the wheel. 

“You’re not volunteering. You’re ordering.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “No license, no drive.”

“What are you? A cop?”

“Don’t think for one second I won’t actually hand the wheels over and happily crash while screaming ‘I told you so’.” 

Steve steers for the duration of your flight. The next few hours are spent just enjoying each other’s company, speaking of all things and simply catching up. It’s amazing how much you two missed from one another’s lives those two years.

      The landing base is clear and it’s Sam who’s waiting for you as the Quinjet manually lands itself. He shoots you a gap-toothed smile and extends his arms, pulling the two of you in at the same time for a strong hug. He’s talking a mile a minute about how successful the mission was, how Fury is over the moon that it’s finally over, how the DEA is thinking of congratulating everyone one by one. It’s enough to distract Steve, who’s just happy to see his best friend again, but it isn’t enough for you. The large metal doors sealing the storage facility from the rest of the compound are thrown open. Bucky stumbles through and practically sprints over to the three of you. 

“Get back on the jet,” he orders, already pulling you by the arm. You all look at one another like he’s gone mad but that’s impossible. Bucky’s paranoia isn’t something to take lightly; he’s right nine out of ten times. 

“Buck, what-?”

“Rhodes couldn’t hold them. They have warrants, Steve.”

Steve hauls Sam onto the jet as well. “Warrants for who?”

“Get down from the jet without a fight and this will all go smoothly.”

There are about twenty uniformed officers surrounding the jet. They spread out in case anyone decides to run but it seems pointless to even try. Secretary Ross points his gun directly at you, proud and tall and looking just the same as you remember him. Last time you saw him was at Tony’s funeral. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you bite, and raise your hands in cooperation. Ross shakes his head and his expression contorts into one of disgust. There are red beams coming from each gun but your friends are clean - the beams are only pointed at you.

“Agent Y/N Y/LN, you’re under arrest for multiple charges of drug smuggling, trafficking of illegal goods, the murder of Ernesto Vega and Daniel Seda, aiding and abetting drug-lord Omar Ramirez, and for conspiracy against the United States of America. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a federal court of law...”

You drone out half way through. Ross finishes up the speech but no one is listening. Sam is already yelling over your Miranda Rights and Bucky’s frozen in place. Steve’s fighting his way through to Ross, pushing through the muscle until he’s face to face with him. But Ross isn’t fazed. There’s nothing left to do but exit the jet. 

Immediately there are handcuffs slapped to your wrists. Two men drag you over to the containment car that’s enforced with so much indestructible material it’s almost insulting. You weren’t enhanced - they were doing this for fun.

“You’ve got it all wrong! Y/N! Y/N!”

You don’t fight. Conspiracy… you’re surprised they didn’t just shoot you dead. Steve’s still yelling, begging to be heard, but you try to block him out. It’s not your first time being arrested but it is your first time being charged with something you didn’t do. As funny as that sounds, it’s terrifying. 

“Steve,” you say, and Steve breaks through some more hired muscle so he’s within earshot. “It’s okay.”

His face pulls up in pain, “No, you didn’t do this! They’re not listening!”

One of the officers pushes your head down roughly and tries to shove you in the backseat. You’re still looking at Steve. And those eyes, wounded and vulnerable, haunt him even after the door shuts and the car drives away.

     There’s a privilege attached to the mantle of Captain America. Perhaps he was too blind to see it during the war or just too proud he was finally being heard and respected, but now he sees it for what it really is. It’s a mantle this country has never truly associated with the person but with the purpose. Steve was manufactured to help protect this country under government orders and when he defied that purpose, he disgraced the mantle. Seems like some people idolize the role a little too much. 

But he’s still Captain America. This reality has continued to clear his name from stunts he pulls and laws he breaks. And once Steve is able to walk away without so much as a scratch, he leaves bodies behind.

Sharon. Sam. Bucky. Wanda. And now you. All people who fought his fight and weren’t granted the quick privilege of that perceived pureness and holiness. He was always ready for combat, he was built for it, but he didn’t really want it. 

Did he?

Ripping that star off his chest was one thing. Accepting his new shield cemented his continual legacy as the Star-Spangled Man. He deserved to be in that cell with you. But if he learned anything about how the world works, it’s that cruelty doesn’t just win in the movies. All of his enemies started out friends and if he had to bet, he’d bet the reason they’re labeled as such is partially because of him. 

So he sits and listens to everyone’s ideas and plans, vetoing and dismissing one right after the other, his mind doing jumping jacks. He’s both there and not, drowning in the fact that he made it home and you didn’t. He doesn’t know how to sleep without the sound of your snoring anymore. 

He sits and listens. 

    The cell isn’t one you would expect for someone who has been charged for betraying her country. It’s modestly furnished: a black cot in the far right corner with a mini table beside it, a desk with some paper, and a door that leads to the private bathroom. All in all, the room’s size is that of a child’s bedroom; there’s no actual pens and pencils for risk of violent behavior and there’s a bulb camera that moves when you move. 

You’ve been trapped in worse. 

Countless detectives and investigators have visited already. They all ask the same questions: Why did you do it? Did Captain Rogers know? Who are you, really? 

You give the same answers: I didn’t do it. Of course, every single person knows. Who do you think I am?

Every time they leave more discouraged than the one before them, refusing to compare notes with one another in case they were in possession of gold. They all ignore you when you try to ask for Steve and his wellbeing. Their faces contort, they whisper to their partners, and they shake their heads in disappointment. One even goes as far as to threaten you, warning you to keep Captain Roger’s name out of your wetback mouth or else, until he’s escorted from the cell. Not that it really matters - the manipulated ideals of these people will always blur their search for the truth. And when the truth fails to satisfy such greedy manipulations, they choose to create their own.

There is one agent who peaks your interest. He offers you gum when he settles in the chair near the door. His name badge reads ‘Kavert’; it glares in the bright lights overhead and he makes no other attempt at small talk once he gets comfortable and opens his little notepad. 

That goddamn notepad, you think. Every single person before has prided themselves over it, scribbling little notes about your tone of voice, body movement, and vague answers. You never give much, Natasha had taught you better, so they always end up writing less than two bullet points before giving up. 

But Agent Kavert surprises you by opening up to a blank page, spitting his chewed gum in the middle, and then he shuts it closed. He offers you a real smile, one that doesn’t look practiced or forced. It lets you study him without being so guarded or uncomfortable. He seems young, not really a rookie but it’s obvious he’s spent more time behind a desk than out in the field. His dark hair is short, sprinkled grays near his temples, and his attire screams upper level. His build is lean, his gun is in the holster on his right hip, and a part of you knows he’d put up a hell of a fight if you tried to escape. 

“I was gonna comment on what lovely weather we’re having, but I don’t think you get out much.” 

You’re startled into a real laugh. Satisfaction washes over his face. 

“I think you’re wasting your time, Agent Kavert.”

He grins and moves to proudly pull at his jacket and present his badge. He sets the notebook to the side and leans forward to cup his hands together on his knees. 

You squint at him. There’s nothing interesting about you right now: back against the wall as you sit criss-crossed on the cot, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, hair brushed but a little greasy. Your last shower was two days ago and you figure they’ll let you have one tonight. 

“Yeah, you’re right. There’s no point in hoping you’ll tell me anything you haven’t shared yet.”

“Nope.”

He hums low in his throat and tilts his head to the left. Now, he squints at you. “I just don’t get it. How did you do it? Not show up on our radar, I mean?”

It doesn’t seem like he’s calling you guilty or innocent. Already he’s one-hundred percent different from the other agents. “I wasn’t exactly hiding.”

He sits up to lean back in the chair, “Different last name, government and Avenger protection, covering your tracks so carefully even the DEA missed you.”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“Yes, but,” he starts. He acts like he’s having a normal conversation on his front porch. “It still doesn’t make sense. How could Nick Fury miss this? Tony Stark? After the whole Obadiah situation, I expected him to-”

“It’s simple, really. Do you want to know or do you want to keep making assumptions?”

He’s watched the other agents leave by this point. Some couldn’t even make you talk. So he shuts up and waves his hand for you to continue. 

“Cool,” you breathe out. “First of all, I’m literally only telling you this because I’ve already been refused a lawyer or some crap like that and I highly doubt this is going to actual court. The publicity would be horrible.” 

He bites his lip but you catch the little smile forming. You continue, “And I have nothing to hide. I’m sure my Captain, my teammates, and Fury himself have given their sides. Am I right?”

Agent Kavert adjusts himself in the seat and nods in response. He doesn’t dare interrupt you now. 

“Good, then I’ll keep it sweet. They knew who I was. I was recruited to be an inside source, a double agent, and this wedding was the perfect chance to corner those men,” you declare, turning your hands palm up and shrugging your shoulders. “There, happy?”

“Double agent.” Agent Kavert chews over the words, rolling them around on his tongue a few more times. He’s squinting harder and you can see his brain working. The next sound to leave his lips is a heavy sigh and a feeling of immense irritation washes over you. It wasn’t enough.  “Are we going to be truthful yet, Agent?”

Chuckling lightly, you rest the back of your skull on the wall. It was wrong to assume he’d be any different from the others. “Of course you don’t believe me. You want more, they all do. I don’t suppose I have anything better to do.”

He claps his hands on his thighs and leans forward again, loud and restless. “Then let’s get started, really: Did you or did you not let Omar Ramirez, Mexican drug-lord involved with Ernesto Vega, your father... imagine that, run away from a crime scene, evade arrest, and possibly leave the country?”

“You expect me to follow all those questions?”

“It’s not the time to be funny.”

“You were enjoying it just a second ago,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows, still waiting for an answer.  “Then let me put it simply: no, I did not.”

“Did you or did you not assassinate Ernesto Vega?”

“I would have remembered such a brilliant kill if it came from my gun.”

“So that’s a no… Daniel Seda?”

“His gun was pointed at my Captain. Yes.”

“Against orders, then?”

Confusion is written all over your face and you make sure the camera knows it too. There are only so many times you can repeat yourself. “Don’t you have Steve’s report? Scott’s?”

“We have to hear the story from you, Agent.”

“But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You don’t believe me.”

He shrugs and quickly scans you up and down. Even if he doesn’t have the tangible notepad in his hands, he’s getting away with making mental notes. “The story just isn’t piecing together the way it should be. Why would Daniel Seda murder his greatest ally and friend?”

“Our mics have already transcribed that answer for you, sir. I’m sure of it. And I’ve got sources outside of the DEA and Avengers-”

“Like Maribel Rodrigo? Another smuggler who has operated inside the cartel, HYDRA, Madripoor…”

You cut him off, angry. “Not the full story.” 

Tone of voice: defensive.

“Then that leads me to my next question.”

“Oh, fun.”

Tone of voice: sarcastic.

He speaks with a tinge of astonishment hidden in every syllable. “Why didn’t you do it? Kill Ernesto, I mean.”

“I was disarmed at the time. The Captain and I both were,” you answer, growing more impatient by the second.

He uses his hands to speak now, finger pointing along an invisible timeline detailing the order of events. “So you admit you were going to kill him if you had your weapon.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Body movement: rigid.

“Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe my boss is right, maybe the FBI is right in thinking that you are a double agent leaning more towards your roots than our boys in blue.” He says this like its scripture; like it’s some holy conspiracy he’s just found evidence for. He wants you to plant words in your mouth and in this discussion so he can pluck the evidence from the ground and water it with fire.

You scoff hard, “I hardly ever wear blue when doing your job for you.”

“Was letting Omar Ramirez escape our job or just yours?”

Telling him the truth would mean losing all credibility, all titles, all trust in your work. You know what you’ve done and you don’t regret it. Ramirez was never the biggest fish and if you spun this right, then he was simply a fish who got his meal and promptly swam away. “You assume I let him go. What evidence tells you that?”

He ignores the question and instead asks another of his. “Why were your relations kept hidden from SHIELD and the FBI?”

“That’s a question for you know who.”

He shakes his head in disappointment. “You’re in a lot of trouble.”

“I bet I am. But this is not some precinct where you can get my team to turn on me so easily. And this is not a situation in which they’re lying for me. I trust that whatever the Captain has said is the answer to all your questions.”

“We’re gonna unravel this case. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

You’re suddenly overcome with a wave of sleepiness. These past two weeks have been exhausting even if you haven’t moved more than five feet from wall to wall. Having to repeat yourself to people who have already written the story for themselves is tiring. “I don’t know why you guys can’t just believe the words of myself and everyone vouching for me. We got you all the evidence. We have given you more names and connections that you’ll ever know what to do with. You don’t need to unravel anything; it’s all there! But because we weren’t able to arrest the one person you wanted, that being Ernesto, you go after me. You have White but I guess he’s not talking. And you’ll believe what you want to believe.”

“I trust my gut.”

“As simple as that, huh?” You sigh deeply and cross your arms over your chest. “You know, there’s a saying the late Agent Carter used to tell all SHIELD agents when they first started out and when they came back from missions. When she retired, it was Fury who then eased our minds.” 

Agent Kavert has a harsh line creasing through the middle of his forehead and he looks deeply interested. 

“There are three sides to every story,” you recite. “Your side, my side, and the truth.” A gentle shrug of the shoulders feels like all you’re allowed to give him. “I’m not lying to you but I’m not telling you the full truth either. Just my side.”

Agent Kavert shuts his eyes and bounces his left leg. He looks conflicted and unable to formulate a response at all. He’s shaking like he’s at war with himself or with the suits on the other side of the door, but no one has come knocking yet. “Let’s say I believe you. Just for a second.”

You nod. 

“Daniel Seda murders Vega at his own daughter’s wedding. We managed to catch Marcus White and because of fault entirely, Omar Ramirez gets away. Because from what I heard, Ramirez was working with you.” He paints the picture rather mundane, but you shoot him a smile that tells him he’s on the right track. “And you and all the other Avengers were blindsided by Ramirez. You gathered all the evidence you were told to gather, worked together and played your cards right, infiltrated one of the most secure estates in the country, and fucked up so badly that you managed to let two of your biggest giants die?”

“I really think you got it spot on.”

He laughs dryly, “But it still doesn’t make sense. Once Vega was gone and Seda survived, where would you have fallen in this tree?”

He wants to retract his question the moment he sees your face fall with such a sincerity he wasn’t ready for. “That’s just it, Agent Kavert. I would have fallen.”

“And the other two? How would business work? Would Daniel Seda have been the head of it now?”

“Your answers are in the evidence we gathered. I know you guys aren’t touching it because you think I’m compromised.”

He stands from the chair and dusts off his jacket. “Your side, my side, and the truth,” he repeats. He goes to open the door but you speak quickly before he can leave. 

“They think I infiltrated SHIELD, the Avengers, and am in bed with HYDRA because they’ve been helping Ernesto’s vision all along.” Agent Kavert stops and turns back to you. “I am a double agent whose identity was kept secret to aid this country and not raise suspicions from your part. I have seen a lot of things, have done things I’m not proud of, but I’ve done it all for a reason.”

Agent Kavert looks almost ashamed. Tone of voice: sincere.

“Me and my Captain saved lives, our own as well, and we stopped three of the most notorious drug-lords who have been at large since the eighties. We got your giants for you. And the truth is, I have discovered: through all my pain and experience... that it’s excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.”

Agent Kavert doesn’t know if you’re talking about Ernesto, the U.S Government, yourself, or him. His eyebrows pinch together and he slowly moves to leave the room.

    It’s another week before you’re visited by someone who isn’t bringing you food or extra toilet paper. You’re picking at your cuticles when the vents above your cell begin rattling with the obvious weight of a human being. You sit dumbly on the bed, straining your ears and trying hard not to laugh as each rattle is returned with a muffled curse. The vent on the ceiling right outside your cell drops to the concrete floor. 

Ernesto’s men wouldn’t go through all that trouble to kill you James Bond style. They would have just bribed a guard. So it’s a treat when the door swings open quickly and in comes a staggering Clint, keys in one hand and his phone in the other. The screen is illuminated, showcasing what looks to be blueprints. He’s got a bandaid over his left eyebrow and dust all over his clothes.

Your upper lip twitches into a silly smile. “You’re ridiculous if you thought you wouldn’t be heard in those damn vents.”

Clint makes a noise that sounds like he’s saying ‘maaaf’ and he plops down beside you on the cot. It’s absolutely hilarious he traveled in the vents and that the team approved this when in reality, they could have just sent Scott. “Just had to get past the first line of security. Plus, the blueprints said they were wider... I figure we’ve got a good three minutes before they check the cameras.”

It’s not the first time you sit in a cell with a time crunch. 

     The Raft is nothing special. They have you all separated by rank, meaning you were in the same vicinity as Clint, Sam, and Scott. Wanda was moved to a more secure location and you haven’t seen her since they brought you in. 

There isn’t much to do in a place like this. You tried counting how many strands of hair you had but gave up once you counted two hundred; you tried seeing if the others could hear you when you yelled out to them but the cells were soundproof; you even tried filing your nails against the uneven paint on the wall. It’s like they made life in these cells purposefully horrible - like you didn’t save the world a couple times over, c’mon. 

The camera fidgets over your head where you’re laying down and after a few seconds, it stops. The red light slowly fades and turns a bright yellow. You move to stand on the bed and reach for it, but a voice startles you from doing so. 

“Don’t mess with my magic!”

You topple over the single pillow you were given and fall flat on the bed, scrambling to shield yourself from whoever intruded. “Jesus!”

“Oh, I met him. Strange lad, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”

There’s a moment where you think you must be dreaming. His hair is longer and hits his shoulders and he’s added some blue and yellow to his usual attire. But other than that, he’s alive. Truly, brilliantly, really alive. 

“Loki, what the fuck?”

“Right!” Loki claps his hands and extends them outwards, smiling.  “Ta-da!”

A few beats pass. You blink a few times just in case you’re hallucinating. Barely a week in containment… 

“I’m sorry… I’m still trying to process the fact that you’re still alive!”

He scoffs low and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. “A God never truly dies, darling.”

“Well in Greek mythology-”

“Greek mythology and I have this unsettled beef that’s been going on for about five hundred years. Do not mention Greek mythology to me.”

“Excuse me, right, I should have known that was a sensitive topic.”

Loki swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and expels a laugh. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Your restraint is gone and you lunge forward to envelope him in the tightest hug you’ve ever given anyone. He returns it, sighing into your shoulder and holding you close. You pull away just to stare at him, watching his features as they move ever so slightly. It’s really him. 

“I-” Loki tries but stutters. He’s studying you too and he almost looks sad. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Thor know?” Loki shakes his head at your question and winces when you smack his shoulder. “Loki, Thor has been grieving you for months!”

“I’m planning on it!” You don’t believe him. He goes to rub his shoulder. “Gods, I forgot you had excellent aim.”

You look back at the camera and find that the yellow light is still glowing, dim. Loki’s magic is blocking footage out or putting footage in, you really don’t know. But it’s allowing you a few moments with the man you thought you’d never see again. “Spontaneous reincarnation aside, what are you doing here? How did you even know I was here?”

“I’m on this planet for five-FIVE minutes, and the television has all these reports about you and everyone fighting each other?”

“Mm, right, right.”

Loki stares at you, amused. “... Care to explain?”

Your face contorts into a hundred different expressions until you finally settle on one of gentle guilt. “The person we were after was a friend of a friend. I made a judgement call and let him go.”

“You went against orders?”

“I went against the law.”

“Even better.”

With an eyebrow cocked, you give him a judging look. “Loki.”

His eyes crinkle from the intensity of his smile and you’ve missed him, you missed him so much. “That’s what I love about you. Barely starting out as an Avenger and you’re already realizing you can do more good in your own way.”

You groan quietly and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you closer. “I mainly did it for Steve. Wasn’t like it was a big ‘fuck you’ to one-hundred and seventeen nations for the hell of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No.”

“Spoken like a true anti-hero.”

“You comparing me to yourself?”

Loki chuckles and runs his fingers through the strands of hair closest to your cheek. “Darling, I’m a God. No one comes close.” He sighs, serious again. “All I’m saying is that it’s refreshing to see the young break the rules.”

“I missed you,” you softly say. You can feel the nudge of his cheek turning upward against your head. 

“Always nice to hear.”

Rolling your eyes, you move to meet his gaze. “So, no reason why you came to visit me specifically?”

Loki takes one cautious look at the camera, to outside your cell, and back to you. “I too do things for your lovely Captain.” His smile grows wider. 

“What?”

He winks and tilts his head over to the giant metal doors that are starting to pry open. “See you in a minute.” 

The alarms begin blazing; there is fog filling the room, and Steve emerges from that fog with a winning smirk.

     You look over at Clint, half selfishly wishing he was Loki on another one of his midnight visits, and quickly do away with the thought. “So how’s life without me?”

“Oh, it’s great! The flowers are in bloom, the kitchen isn’t always a mess, and my bow and arrow aren’t misplaced because you wanted to have some fun with it,” he jokes, stretching far enough that his feet dig into your thigh like he’s trying to make more room for himself.  

“Not like it’s your only bow and arrow.”

He chuckles and sits up. He does a once over of the room and adjusts the frequency on his hearing aid. “They read you your rights at least?”

You wait to respond until he finishes fixing it. You speak and sign the words slowly,  “I don’t think any lawyer in America will want to take this case anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s a career killer.”

Trying to refrain from smiling around Clint was nearly impossible. You look to the door quickly, “Two minutes?”

He shoots up straighter as he watches your hands, “Right! So we’re currently tracking down your sister-”

“My sister?”

“Steve thinks she’s our only hope at clearing your name.”

“Why is that? I told her to get as far away as possible.”

Clint sighs and scratches the skin just above the bandaid. “She stayed in Mexico all those years you were gone. By all accounts, Ernesto adored her. Because of that, her influence might clear your name.”

“But she stayed. All the more reason to believe she was involved as well,” you say, shaking your head.

“She’s barely out of her teens. Everything that happened, happened when she was a minor. She has a first hand account of the abuse Ernesto caused you. And Steve thinks that the Julian fellow might even come clean and admit to the arranged marriage. Shows a pattern of abuse by Ernesto to his own children. Could spin it to make it seem like you had no other choice but to follow his orders.”

You follow his hands slowly, some signs difficult to read but you latch onto the gist of his argument. You groan and lean your head back on the wall with a small thump. “They go against Ernesto and they have targets on their backs. Even my other siblings who are still involved with all of this won’t let it go.”

“Y/N… Ernesto’s dead. You know that.”

“His influence isn’t.”

There’s minimal commotion a few doors down. Clint realizes it’s time to leave. “It might never be. But we don’t get to live in the future.” He stands with another small groan and stretches as he prepares to lift himself back into the vent. “We’re living now, and it’s all any of us can do.”

“Clint?” You also stand and have to wave in his peripheral to get his attention. He turns and knows what you’re about to say even without the hand gestures. “They won’t answer me when I ask.”

His lips pull into a perceptive smile, “He’s okay. Doing what he does best - blaming himself.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

He’s had enough practice reading your lips to notice the sarcasm that drips from them. He hurries to lift himself up. “We’ve got about a million tricks up our sleeve. If Jackeline’s word or the evidence isn’t enough, we’ve always got Fury and his blackmail.”

“Yeah, half the guys who interviewed me look like they cheat on their wives, so.”

He genuinely laughs and jumps high, muttering more to himself than to you. “Up we go…”

     The team locates Jackeline just a few days after your run-in with Clint. The building saw a triple rise in security but even then it didn’t prevent undercover agents passing all the checkpoints and sliding notes with your meals. They’d leave the tray, tip their hats, and smile like they knew the cameras wouldn’t suspect a thing. 

The first note is from Bucky, with the simple message of ‘I watched a few episodes of The Crown without you… I’m sorry.’

The second comes on the same day at dinner time, this one from Wanda. ‘I think Peter is trying to flirt with your sister.’

The third isn’t slipped through with any meal, but rather through the tiny opening beneath the door. ‘Surprised we did this the legal way this time! See you soon! - Rhodey’

The final one is actually hand delivered when several guards come in to tell you you’re free to go. They’re mumbling amongst themselves, cursing the system and the privileges Avengers always get, when the smallest of the five turns to you and hands you the note. ‘I owe you one. You owe me one. Who’s counting anymore? - Joaquin’

Jackeline had been able to track down Maribel and the two of them, with such accuracy in their stories and their timelines, constructed your defense perfectly. They showed them phone records, all of the recordings from that week, had proof that you never signed a thing, and made several special deals. Jackeline promised to reveal where bodies were buried, where business was dealt with, who else was involved with Ernesto and Seda. Maribel managed to get a message to them from Ramirez, which basically cleared you from the crime they were trying to stick. Ramirez was a damn good liar, you’ll give him that, and it made you the tiniest bit sad that you’d probably never see him again. 

The tipping point was when Steve turned himself in. There was no evidence that you did anything, never signed anything, never conspired behind your teammates backs. Fury made sure not to keep a paper or electronic trail. But there was evidence that implicated Steve - the contract. No matter how badly the FBI and CIA tried to make it go away, to absolve Steve from it, he didn’t back down. It was like the story they originally wanted toppled in on itself and it was actually Steve who forced you into all of this - playing your connections and forcing your hand. The contract hadn’t been voided, still hasn’t, and they really couldn’t risk another SHIELD fiasco. So it was destroyed to protect the Stars and Stripes, and in return they promised to let you go if you didn’t tell a soul. The image you’d come to despise, that tacky red, white and blue, is starting to grow on you.

‘Let me think about that and get back to you,’ you had joked. You think they let you go sooner because they feared the truth in your joke. 

But there wasn’t anything to think about, ever, still isn’t. Steve pulled another sacrifice play and you wanted to get out as soon as possible to kick his ass. 

You leave the prison with the same clothes you had on when you entered. They smell washed and you’re thankful they allowed you to shower before you left. You ignore the looks guards and prisoners aim at you, each trying to somehow get their hits in without actually pulling their punches. This would be a media disaster either way, didn’t matter the outcome of a supposed trial, and PR was most likely struggling to prepare their defense. 

You resist the embarrassing urge to run into his arms. He’s standing right outside the gates, leaning back on the passenger side of his rusty old blue pickup, positively glowing underneath the blazing sun. You’re blinded by it, skin thanking the dangerous rays for its first touch in weeks, but it only takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. He still hasn’t shaved and his hair is getting longer, and instead of his usual tucked-in dress shirt, he’s wearing a brown leather jacket over a faded graphic tee that reads AC/DC. It was Tony’s.

You’ve only got the broken burner phone and a hair tie in your possession; it’s what was on you when you were arrested. You drop the burner in a nearby trashcan and head on over to the truck. Steve’s wide smile buckles your knees and it damn near breaks your heart. Even when the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, you still saw each other at least twice a week. Going two weeks without seeing him feels like a lifetime. 

Once you're a few feet away, you stop in front of him. There are no immediate words you know to say, so you simply shrug your shoulders and give him a look that asks ‘What now?’

“Home.”

~

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer​ @justab-eautifulmess​ @supraveng​ @mycosmicparadise​ @missnighttigress​

[maria-scribbles]

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow​ ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.). 

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears. 

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him. 

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect. 

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.  

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table. 

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo. 

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind. 

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways. 

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward. 

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses. 

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?" 

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!" 

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor. 

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three. 

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.  

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips. 

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.  

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are." 

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?" 

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me." 

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.  

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that." 

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!" 

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone. 

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again." 

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!" 

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.  

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius." 

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee​ 

[gallickingun]

so i saw the post about kissing that you reblogged and that made me think... imagine reader retweeting that on twitter and bakugou sees it, then proceeds to kiss her at random times the next day which really flusters her and she wonders why he's doing this because they normally don't advertise the fact that they're dating

a/n: this is a lot of all over the place randomness but... i kind of love it??? short little blurby about bakubaby treating you right!!!

ps, i can’t do anything short, can i? couple hundred words ahead lol 

Bakugou had always been possessive over what he deemed as his.

So, it’s somewhat strange, when he doesn’t necessarily lay claim to you in front of all his friends.

Sure, Kirishima and Mina know that the two of you are secretly attached at the hip, and Denki may or may not raise a brow when you get too close to one another, but overall it’s not necessarily well known that you have been exclusive to one another for the past few months.

Bakugou is genuinely secure in your relationship; the one constant in his life now that the Pro Hero Sidekick gigs are taking off. He knows that when he calls, you’ll answer, and that there is never too much of him for you to handle. Honestly, he never thought much about the fact that you didn’t really show much affection in public because you were on his mind every moment not premeditated on training exercises and patrols and skirmishes in the streets.

No, your affection comes in small doses, here and there and always in private. And you know that the Pro Hero life will be a lonely one at times, but you can’t help the insatiable need for physical affection. It’s something instilled in you, bred in you maybe. The unbreakable desire to feel the pads of his bare fingers, his knee slotting between your thighs as he lays closer to tell you about his day. You even wish you could just feel his hands on the crown of your head, maybe a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

At this point, after a couple of weeks of non-stop action in the streets, you start to grow restless. Your publicist says you need to show more attention to social media, so you take to Tweeter when you have a second to breathe in the agency locker room.

It doesn’t take long for you to find a relationship-based account that posts sappy quotes and cute photos; it makes your heart ache and long for something a little more concrete than what you have now - something just a smidge more open.

In a moment of haste, you post a response to a specific original comment: I was extremely kissable today and do you know how many kisses I received???? Zero!!!

It’s something harmless; a gentle joke with your growing audience. You need to prove to them that you’re relatable, which is all that you’re doing. It couldn’t have come from the darkness of your mind that clouds your vision at night, begging you to crawl into Katsuki’s bed at ungodly hours of the night even if he’s not there; even if the two of you aren’t there yet.

It is another night spent alone, cold ramen on the coffee table as you fall asleep on the couch to old training tapes of yourself replaying on the television. You were trying to pick apart your every misstep, but all you could focus on was the way your body aches for your lover. Your blood beats heavy in your chest, the sound deafening to your ears when the pulse throbs at your temples and in your jugular. The edges of you crave something solid to fall against, to fall into.

You want Katsuki.

Instead, you step into your hero shoes and get ready to conquer another day at the agency.

When you step out of your car, you’re surprised to find Bakugou’s vehicle parked next to your usual spot. Even though he’s an early riser, he’s usually patrolling or attending appointments during the morning hours, so it’s a bit out of sorts to see his car already in it’s place.

The front door is pulled open for you by a familiar face - ashen blonde hair framing crimson irises, a small smile tugging on his full lips. You tilt your had in silent questioning as you step over the threshhold and into your persona for the day. 

You let out a strangled sound when those very lips find yours, right in the middle of everything, the hallway full of people turning to look at the two of you.

“Good morning,” he murmurs as he steps away from you, vermillion irises trailing over your frame, “sorry I didn’t make it over last night. Patrol was a bitch.”

You shake your head but you can’t reply because your mind is foggy, dizzy in its haze to attempt and figure out why he’s done what he’s done. There are several people staring at you now, mouths slightly agape at the obvious display of affection that is rather unusual for the pair of you. Most of those that you’ve now given full access to the validity of your relationship only hinted and gossiped about it prior, unsure if the lingering gazes you might send one another are truly that of longing rather than carelessness.

“S’okay,” you manage, “no big.”

He’s smiling, squeezing your arm before turning to walk his own way. You’re left breathless in the front entryway, hand covering your mouth as you watch him fade further into the hallway until he’s boarding the elevator.

You blink once, squeezing your eyelids tightly so you see stars. And then you take the first step forward to start your day, desperately trying to ignore the effervescent champagne bubbles in your belly but failing miserably with each passing moment. 

The tap on your door at lunchtime brings your attention back to the present, eyes finding the bulky frame of one Pro Hero: Ground Zero at your door. Your jaw goes slack but you stand to your feet anyway, “H-Hey, what’s up?”

“Can’t I take my girlfriend to lunch and it not be a whole thing?” Bakugou clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. “C’mon, dummy, let’s go.” 

Bakugou actually takes you by the hand - a gesture he hardly does even in the confines of your personal home - and walks you towards the food court near the center of the agency. When you stand in line, he kisses the back of your head and pulls you closer to him. The people around you stop and stare and you know it’s because the big, bad Ground Zero finally appears to have shown that he has a heart.

The pair of you eat in relative silence, focused on scarfing down the food in front of you before you turn to speech. Bakugou is finished first, kicking his feet up on the chair next to yours. He smiles across the table at you and offhandedly asks you about your day. 

Through a mouthful of noodles you mutter something along the lines of a whole lotta paperwork, which makes him laugh. You tilt your head, marveling at this new version of your significant other. You aren’t sure if you should enjoy it or be worried, but the revelry you’re sharing in the way people look at the two of you now that he is being openly affectionate makes you keep your mouth shut for the time being.

It is only when he drops you back off at your doorstep and asks you to consider taking the rest of the day off with a kiss to your cheek that you finally broach the burning topic. The words are like acid on your tongue, “What is going on with you?”

Bakugou brushes his thumb over your jaw, leaning back enough to look in your eyes. Something falters in him and you step closer, palms finding his chest, “Katsuki, did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he snaps immediately. Bakugou turns his face away from you so he can compose himself, “I did something wrong.”

Your mind wants to flood with the horrible things he could be talking about, but Bakugou is already interjecting with another sentence before your imagination can wander too far off of a cliff. 

“I saw what you posted yesterday and I feel like I’m being a really shitty boyfriend by not just fucking telling people that we’re together.” He runs his hands over your arms, tucking his thumbs into your gloves, “This is my way of trying to make up for it.”

The tips of your cheeks are painted pink and you can’t help it when you surge up to kiss him square on the lips. The action leaves him breathless, eyes half-lidded as he tries to work himself down from the adrenaline rush.

You bite your lip, “I just decided that I’m taking the rest of today off.”

Bakugou cups your face, fingertips tickling the nape of your neck, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

[roonilwazlibimagines]

Some Quotes

I re read the Harry Potter books and here are some quotes I felt I wanted to remember

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them. Page 192

‘And you’re not sitting with the Prefects today, either,’ said George. ‘Christmas is a time for family.’ Page 218

(Dumbledore) It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Page 230

(Neville) ‘I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,’ he stammered. Page 240

(Hermione) ‘Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They’re not throwing me out after that.’ Page 291

(Hermione) ‘Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery.’ Page 308

(Dumbledore) ‘It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.’ Page 329

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

In the end, he chose the same new subjects as Ron, feeling that if he was rubbish at them, at least he’d have someone friendly to help him. Page 267

‘Because that’s what Hermione does,’ says Ron, shrugging. ‘When in doubt, go to the library.’ Page 269

(Dumbledore) It is out choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, for more than our abilities. Page 352

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

(Hermione) ‘Poor Crookshanks, that witch said he’d been in there for ages: no one wanted him.’ Page 64

‘We - shall I make a cup of tea?’ said Ron. Harry stared at him.   ‘It’s what my mum does whenever someone’s upset,’ Ron muttered, shrugging. Page 232

Even without Divination, she was taking more subjects than anybody else. Page 319

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Yes, that would be Hermione’s advice: go straight to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and in the meantime, consult the book. Page 18

Hermione, who had turned rather pink again, seemed to be trying not to look too pleased with herself. Page 196

But Harry didn’t care, he wouldn’t have cared if Karkaroff had given him a zero; Ron’s indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him. He didn’t tell Ron this, of course, but his heart felt lighter than air as he turned to leave the enclosure. Page 304

He was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet...he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defence was possible... Page 558

(Dumbledore) ‘Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right, and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.’ Page 608

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come...and he would have to meet it when it did. Page 617

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix 

‘Bill doesn’t like him either, said Ginny, as though that settled the matter. Page 64

‘Yeah, size is no guarantee of power,’ said George. ‘Look at Ginny.’ Page 92

‘The witch spoke in a fluttery, girlish, high-pitched voice that took harry aback; he had been expecting a croak. Page 135

‘Well, congratulations,’ said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, ‘authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn’t have appointed you...’ Page 156

Harry’s mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either. Page 157

Seeing Hagrid again was one of the things he’d been looking forward to most. Page 181

Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. Page 223

Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity. Page 236

‘Wow, I wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life?’ said Harry sarcastically. Page 242

Who cared about a stupid flying horse; Cho thought he had been really brave. For a moment, he considered accidentally-on-purpose showing her his cut hand as he helped her tie her parcel on to the owl... Page 263

She (Hermione) looked up at Ron and her frostiness seemed to melt. Page 272

(Luna) ‘Just because you’re so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you-’ Page 319

‘Haven’t e got a counter-jinx or this?’ Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta’s face. ‘So she can speak freely?’  ‘I have not yet managed to find one,’ Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Harry felt a surge of pride in Hermione’s jinxing ability. Page 566

‘Well usually when a person shakes their head,’ said McGonagall coldly, ‘ they mean “no”. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign-language as yet unknown to humans -’ Page 569

Harry struggled around to see who was half strangling him and saw Professor McGonagall crouched beside him; she had forced both him and Marietta out of harms way. Page 573

(Dumbledore) ‘On the contrary...the fact that you can feel pain like this is your greatest strength.’ Page 758

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

(Snape) ‘You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?’ Page 23

‘I enjoyed the meetings, too,’ said Luna serenely. ‘It was like having friends.’ Page 115

...and watched Pansy stroke the sleek blond hair off Malfoy’s forehead, smirking as she did so, as though anyone would have loved to have been in her place. Page 125

It was a mark of the strength of their friendship that Ron did not laugh. Page 141

‘Humph,’ snorted Professor McGonagall. ‘It’s high time your (Neville’s) grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she’s got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have - particularly after what happened at the Ministry.’ Page 145

He did not usually lie in bed reading his textbooks; that sort of behaviour, as Ron rightly said, was indecent in anybody except Hermione, who was simply weird that way. Page 198

On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far. Page 199

‘I like really good Quidditch players,’ Hermione corrected her, still smiling. Page 260

She (Hermione) looked too fierce to argue with at that moment, so Harry dropped the subject of Ron and recounted all that he had overheard between Malfoy and Snape. Page 294

(Slughorn) ‘Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert.’ Page 403

It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. Page 536

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

(Yaxley) ‘He always did himself well, Lucius. Peacocks...’ Page 2

‘This isn’t your average book,’ said Ron. ‘It’s pure gold: Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches... You’d be surprised, it’s not all about wandwork, either.’ Page 90

Kreacher’s thin arms trembled with the weight of the pan, still held aloft. ‘Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?’ Page 178

The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents’ mouldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent and unknowing. Page 267

(Hermione) ‘Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn’t it?’ Page 312

(Hermione) I mean, you could claim that anything’s real if the only basis for believing in it is that nobody’s proved it doesn’t exist!’ Page 335

The three of them spoke at the same time; Hermione said, ‘the Clock,’ Ron said, ‘the wand,’ and Harry said, ‘the stone.’ Page 337

Luna had decorated her bedroom ceiling with five beautiful painted faces: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville. They were not moving as the portraits of Hogwarts moved, but there was a certain magic about them all the same: Harry thought they breathed. What appeared to be fine golden chains wove around the pictures, linking them together, but after examining them for a minute or so, Harry realised that the chains were actually one word, repeated a thousand times in golden ink: friends ... friends ... friends ... Page 340

(Neville) ‘The thing is, it helps when people stand up to them, it gives everyone hope. I used to notice that when you did it, Harry.’ Page 467

His eyes feasted on her (Lily), and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough. Page 571