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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

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henry-and-the-seven-lords · 3 years

Note

For the prompt requests:

Other 3. "You weren't supposed to laugh. I'm so embarrassed!" with Beel and MC?

Congrats on 500 followers!! You always put so much effort into your writing (like the amount of research and thought you're putting into it!), so you really deserve the attention :>

I hope you'll have fun with all the requests 💕

Thank you! I really try my best to make everything I write as perfect as possible. So it means a lot to hear you say that.

I don't know if I deserve the attention, but I am glad people like what I write. But thank you again, I will definitely do my best to have a great time today.

Beelzebub x MC

3. "You weren't supposed to laugh! I'm so embarrassed."

MC had worked all day to create this masterpiece of a cake for Beel's birthday.

They shopped for special ingredients with Lucifer. They have Barbatos and Luke tell them how to use the best techniques. Satan had reserch the best cake recipes. Asmo helped design the initial sketch. Even Levi ordered special toppers to give it character! Belphie and Mammon were the distractions to keep Beel away from the House long enough for MC to make it.

Sadly, the day had not been going as planned. It was only noon and the three of them had already been thrown out of every restaurant in the Devildom!

It also doesn't help that MC has already started the cake three times only to have it become a complete mess.

Mammon calls soon after the third failed attempt, "We will be home in 20 minutes tops. Did you get it done?"

MC sighs slightly panicking at his words, "Not exactly..." They look around at the mess or half baked cakes around them, "I'll figure something out. See you soon."

They quickly hang up, pushing their nervousness to the side, and instead focusing on this cake.

The start piling up parts of the previous attempts that look edible. After that, MC smears icing onto the mound to cover up the gaps and holes. They even go as far to add orange accent and place the two characters Levi bought on top.

Immediately as they step back, the door opens and Mammon's voice booms.

"Well I am beat, aren't you Belphie? Let's go take a nap."

Beel's soft voice follows, "I could use a nap too-" Mammon interrupts the gentle giant.

"Nope this nap is just for us. You should go to the kitchen, cause your always hungry... anyway see ya!" Mammon then runs off pulling a half asleep Belphie behind him.

MC steps into the hallway covered in flour and icing looking tired.

"Hey Beel." He looks up and smiles.

"Hi MC. Why are you such a mess?" He looks over their frame and can only find more stains.

"It's a surprise. Close your eyes." As Beel follows their instructions, MC grabs his hands and lead him to the kitchen.

"Open your eyes!" Their voice is soft and full of excitement as he opens his eyes to see a monstrosity of a cake.

It is the shape of a mountain and is slowly falling as he stares. They icing doesn't make it much better as it looks like lava flowing out of the top. The two little characters are covered in orange icing making them look like they are burning alive.

He steps closer and pokes one of the characters as he chuckles.

MC pouts, "You weren't supposed to laugh! I worked so hard on this for your birthday. Ugh, I'm so embarrassed."

Beel brings his finger to his mouth licking off the icing as his laughter dies down, "Don't be. I love it. It's... different."

"Different isn't perfect Beel!" MC shoves their face into his chest defeated.

He grabs their chin pulling their face close to his, "Well it is perfect to me. Thank you."

Brothers Masterlist | Dateables Masterlist

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themonotonysyndrome · 3 years

Text

REDACTED verse - A dinner and a show

Prompt: any | any | competition

Word Count: 2,460

Author/Team: LadyMonotone

Fandom/Original: Redacted ASMR (Vincent Solaire/Lovely)

Rating: T

Triggers: Explicit implications

Summary: It's a tradition within the Solaire Clan that the King would visit his progenies from time to time. Tonight, Will is coming over to Vincent & Lovely's apartment for dinner. What's not a tradition is the karaoke competition that comes afterwards.

ConCrit: Y

I don’t know what happened. This oneshot just went out of my control but I had so much fun writing it today! I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Also, I just realised that all the characters in my oneshots have been eating lately. Oh my god, I got so hungry when I was writing them that I subconsciously includes food in some of the scenes 😭 Food is my love language so I guess it’s cute that the bois and their lovers would sit down and eat together.

That being said, I hope you guys will crave Korean food as much as I am in this oneshot! 😅

“Vincent? I need your help. Can you tell me what’s Will's favourite colours?”

“Lovely - ”

“Because I have some formal outfits in our closet, but they don’t mean shit if Will hate the colours.”

“Lovely, hang on - ”

“Is he allergic to perfumes? Colognes? I have some soft-scented bottles that should be Vampire-friendly! I think? Most of them are floral though… oh! Does he have a favourite flower? Do you think I should buy some before he comes over?”

“What? No, Lovely, I think you’re working yourself up - ”

“I know you bought some blood bags for dinner but do you think we should cook some food too? Does Will like to eat? Shit, I knew I should have bought some groceries yesterday after class!”

“You’re not listening to me at all, Lovely…”

“We have to clean up the whole place too. I don’t know how our furniture gets so dusty so quickly! I just wiped them down a few days ago!”

“...”

“Do you think I should do my hair too? It’s a bit of a mess lately; I could use a trim. Does Will - ”

Lovely's eyes widen as a deep kiss suddenly silences them. Their heart pounds when Vincent brings them close to his chest, trapping his lover in his arms. Lovely's eyes flutter close when he pulls away to press butterfly kisses on their neck. They couldn’t help it; they moan and tilt their head back when they feel fangs delicately drag down their tender skin.

“Vincent!” Lovely hisses, not sure for what, though, when Vincent's fangs pinprick where their pulse is.

“Oh? Are you finally with me again, Lovely?” Vincent breathes, loving how their heart begins to beat faster and faster in anticipation. His chest reverberates when he chuckles deeply. “There we go… I have your attention again, little one.”

They grumbled at the unfairness of it all. Just as Lovely knew all of Vincent’s weaknesses and tickle spots, he knew how weak their knees behaved when he pressed his fangs to any parts of his partner's body. Especially down south.

“I’m serious here, Vince.” Lovely whines. “There are so many things we have to do before Will comes over for dinner tonight. I want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

Vincent gives Lovely a deadpan look. They would’ve coo at how adorable he looks if it weren’t for his Vampiric speed and his habit of chucking them onto the bed whenever Lovely is being too stubborn to listen to reason. “Lovely? A question: are you dating my Sire or me?”

Lovely blinks; they didn’t expect that. “Uh, you, duh.”

“Then trust me, as your boyfriend,” Lovely has no idea why Vincent emphasised that last word, but they knew better than to interrupt him when he gets like this. “That everything’s going to be fine. Besides, I told you that while this might look like the whole ‘meeting the parent’ shtick, the relationship between a Sire and their Progeny is way more than that.” He patiently reminds them.

“Well yeah, but he means a lot to you.” Lovely points out. Now, why did Vincent look so surprised at that? “So that means he’s important to me too. That’s why this dinner has to be perfect.”

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. He just stares at them in wonderment.

Lovely let out a surprised squeak when Vincent suddenly crushed them in a hug. “How did I get so damn lucky with you, Lovely?” He murmurs, face buried on top of their head. “Sometimes I think that you’re… too amazing to be real.”

So soft and sweet; that’s Vincent. Lovely lets him cuddle them like his personal teddy bear until he's satisfied.

“Now, I need you to do something for me, Lovely. Do you think you can do it?”

Lovely raise an eyebrow. “Depends on what it is, Vince. I haven’t eaten anything yet, so I can only give you at least four hours in bed - ”

“N-Not that!” Vincent hurries to interject, a brilliant red blush runs across his cheeks despite him being a Vampire. He coughs once to get them on track, playfully glaring at Lovely for trying to distract him. “Geez, Lovely. It’s still way too early for… that. But we're definitely going to revisit that. Anyway, I need you to calm down for a second, OK? Will is a pretty chill guy and an open-minded Sire. He knows how much I love you, so you have nothing to worry about.” He gently assures them, rubbing calming motions up and down Lovely's back.

Lovely could feel their anxiety melts away. Just enough for them to finally breathe again ever since Vincent dropped the bomb that William Solaire will be coming over for dinner tonight.

Apparently, everyone in the Clan knows that the King would visit his Progenies at least once a month to check up on them. Just like how a parent would drop by their children's home for a visit, in Lovely's opinion.

“Ok. You win, baby.” Lovely sighs, loving how his rubbing eases the tense muscles. They arch their back like a pleased, spoiled cat when Vincent messages that spot below their shoulders. “Ooooh, yes, that’s the spot!”

Once Lovely's bones feel like they could melt at any time, they throw Vincent a grateful smile.

“Now, there’s the smile I’ve been missing the whole day!” Vincent teases. “C’mon Lovely, let’s plan for dinner before we take our nap. How do you feel about seafood?”

“Oh, I can go for some seafood. It’s been a while.”

“Spicy steamed crabs with scallops, battered pan-fry oysters and some chilled bowl of rice top with raw salmon and sea bass with slices of your favourite veggies? All Korean-style."

“Hell yes. I think we have all the ingredients for that. Wait. Err, can Will handle spicy food?”

"Uh... I have no idea. Maybe we should hold back on that spicy steamed crabs with scallops just in case."

Ever since the two started living together, Vincent really took a shine when it came to cooking and baking. The idea of providing for Lovely makes him ridiculously happy, and besides, him whipping up healthy and delicious food for them results in much richer and sweeter blood flowing within his lover for him to feed on so… win-win!

As the two of them traverse to the kitchen to start preparing the ingredients for dinner, Lovely slowly gain the confidence that their dinner tonight with Vincent's Sire will turn out alright.

And before both of them knew it, the sun had set.

After a fresh shower, the entire apartment is now spotless (to Lovely's standard), and dinner is served on the table, the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it!" Lovely announce just as Vincent finish putting down the plates. They smoothen out the creases on their clothes, roll their shoulders before taking a deep, calming breath and answer the door. Like a soldier marching towards the battlefield.

Seeing his partner's dramatic reaction, Vincent just shakes his head.

As soon as Lovely opens the door, William Solaire greets them. "Good evening. I hope I'm not too early. The evening traffic has been quite a hassle lately. I figured that even if I'm a bit early, I could help you and Vincent in the kitchen." Will explains. In his arms is a bouquet of white pear blossoms, yellow gladioluses and red tulips. When Lovely stares at them curiously, Will smiles knowingly. "Vincent informed me that you don't drink, so I decided that flowers would be the appropriate gift as oppose to a bottle of champagne."

"They're so pretty." Lovely reply, breathless when they receive the bouquet. "Thank you so much, Will! I'll put them in a vase now. Oh, and please come in." They graciously step aside to let Vincent's Sire in.

While Lovely is busy rummaging for a vase in the storeroom, Will and Vincent make small talks over at the dining table. Vincent passes the ancient Vampire a tall glass of blood which Will accept with gratitude.

"Hey, Will. How's it going?"

"I'm fine, Vincent. Thank you for asking." Will reply after dabbing the bloodstain on the corner of his lips. "The Clan is the same as usual; Our Newborn members have finally settled in nicely, much to Sam's relief. I plan to visit them next week."

Vincent tops up Will's empty glass before replying. "That's great to hear." He's about to say something else before a loud bang against the wall in the storeroom stops him. "Uh, Lovely? Is everything OK in there?" He calls out.

"It's fine, it's fine!" Lovely shouts back. "I found the perfect vase for the flowers!"

Vincent groans in exasperation. When Will throws him a confused expression, Vincent is compelled to explain. "Look, Will, Lovely has been freaking out about tonight's dinner the whole day. They think that if it turns out anything but perfect, you're going to be disappointed in them. So just... just play along, alright?"

Will chuckles; his heart warms at the thought that Lovely holds him in such high regard. What an adorable human. "Is that so? Very well then, I will play the perfect guest towards such kind hosts."

And true to his words, when Lovely joins them at the table after putting the vase full of flowers on the coffee table in the living room, Will waste no time in kicking his charm to the max. In between their meal, Will makes sure to compliment Lovely's outfit (which earned him a shy yet pleased blush from Lovely and a jealous kick at his shin from Vincent). He then comments that the spicy steamed seafood dish is his favourite, and when desserts are introduced, Will gently helps Lovely open up by asking about their interests and hobbies.

Will is pleasantly surprised to find one of the many common grounds they share: their love for analysing music.

"I find RM to be one of the most brilliant lyricists in this generation." Will states once his bowl of red bean shaved ice is empty. "His songs are undoubtedly impactful for the youths of today. Not to mention that I'm quite fond of his wordplays."

"You're into K-pop!?" Lovely ask, utterly gobsmacked. Their eyes are wide in shock.

Vincent snorts. "Alexis is a BTS fan. Somehow, she managed to convert Will too."

When Lovely turn to face Will once more, their expression frozen in disbelieve, he adds, "We're planning to catch their concert once the situation permits it."

Will's pop culture admission finally broke the ice. Lovely laughs in delight before launching themselves into an animated conversation about modern music with Will.

However, it wasn't long before their topic suddenly went off the rail when Vincent claimed that he's a better shower singer than Lovely.

"Oh please, Vince, I thought you were dying in the bathroom," Lovely interjects with a roll of their eyes. Vincent splutters at his partner's cruel remark, but Lovely presses on without mercy, much to Will's amusement. He resolutely keeps his mouth shut despite his growing grin slowly making its way up to his face. "Face it, you're tone-deaf. Being a Vampire doesn't magically make you a good singer."

"Those are some fighting words, Lovely. Can you back them up?"

"We can settle this tonight if you want. You and me; we can duke it out in a singing swag off with Will as the judge." Lovey declares with a smirk before they head into the living room. All revved up as if their previous anxiety over dinner had never happened.

"Oh my..."

Vincent turns to Will with a grateful nod. "Thanks for helping them relax. And hey, you don't have to stay if you have some other plans tonight, Will."

Will stares back at his Progeny with a faux, scandalous look on his face, complete with a hand on his chest. "Why, Vincent, where would I be anywhere but here? It's not every day that I get to see you humbled by your lover. Don't think I forget that you were once known as the Playboy of the Solaire Clan."

Shock looks good on Vincent's face. It's cute that he actually forgot how he was before Lovely walks into his life. Oh, Will is going to milk this for all its worth.

"Alright! The system is set up!" Lovely announce from near the TV with a microphone in their hand. "Will, come on! You need to help me prove that Vincent sings like a dying cat. Here, here!"

"Oi, oi! We haven't even started yet!" Vincent rebuke and flits over to grab the spare microphone. "You know what, Lovely? I'm so confident that I'll win this that I'll let you go first."

Lovely grins viciously and accepts his offer. Once Will makes himself comfortable on the couch and signals for them to begin, Lovely open their mouth,

Will couldn't stop smiling as Lovely sings their heart out, and Vincent makes his grand entrance after they're done (singing one of Will's favourite songs in hopes to sway his Sire to his side). Vincent and Lovely are having the time of their life, teasing one another as they sing. Will commits this night into one of his most cherished memories.

*"Dari apa yang aku perhatikan

Manusia mahu senang tapi tak semua mahu berkorban

Dari apa yang mereka katakan

Ada yang jawab jujur tapi selebihnya kuat beralasan..."

However, as the night grows long, Will doesn't have the heart to tell them that they both are horrible singers.

Tonight, it's Sam's turn. Will deliver three knocks on his door before Sam swings it open. He looks exhausted, unamused and seconds away from running out of the house.

"Good evening, Sam."

"Good evening, William. Before you come in, can I ask why my Progenies insist on having a karaoke competition tonight? On the night where they knew you were coming?"

Will begins to smile widely. Both he and Sam could hear a heated argument between Frederick and Bright Eyes from the living room.

"No, you can't sing Bambi, Bright Eyes. I won't allow it! You're going to break the windows!"

"Oh my god, would you let me live, Freddy!?"

"We've been over this; you can't sing! Wait. What are you - put down that microphone - "

Music starts to play at maximum volume, and then,

Sam closed his eyes and sighed deeply and in resignation when Bright Eyes began to sing louder to drown out Frederick's shrieking.

**“Feel it like memalla itteon mam wiro

seumyeodeun danbi

dabi piryo eopji

Because you’re my favourite..."

"I don't know what had happened - and I honestly don't want to know - but I hope you're ready to deal with these two tonight."

"Why, Sam, where would I be anywhere but here?"

These are the English translations & link to the songs that Lovely and Bright Eyes were singing:

*“From what I can see

People want the good life, but are not willing to sacrifice

From what I hear

Some are honest but others are full of excuses...”

**“Feel it like timely rain that seeps into my dry heart

No other answer is needed

Because you’re my favorite...”

#redacted asmr #fanfic #they/them pronouns #gender neutral s/o #vincent solaire #lovely (listener)#william solaire #sam collins #frederick #bright eyes (listener)#pop culture references

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flightlessangelwings · 3 years

Text

Sweet Surprise

Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: none, fluff, food mention, no use of y/n, established relationship

Request from anon: “Could you do a Marcus Moreno x reader where they’re secretly dating because they don’t want to hurt Missy or are afraid of how she would react, and she found out the truth in one way or another. You can decide the end 😊 Please”

Music played from your little speaker as you and Marcus mixed the batter together in his kitchen. You two had been dating in secret for the past few months, and life had never been better. He was the kindest, sweetest, most caring person you had ever met, and you felt honored that he chose you to be with. Marcus Moreno treated you better than anyone ever had, and you felt yourself fall in love with him faster than you ever thought you could.

When he asked to keep your relationship a secret, you were concerned at first. You had been hurt in the past when your partner asked the same of you. It took you weeks to find out that you were a secret because you were the side piece, and you did not want a repeat of your past. And you were afraid to tell any of this to Marcus too, since your relationship was so new at the time.

“It hurt, Marcus,” you finally broke down and told him what happened, “I felt so used and betrayed and…” you told him how you closed yourself off from love after that, and it was only his kindness and good heart that made you start to open up again.

However, Marcus was completely different. He understood your feelings, and explained his reasoning to you, “I want to keep you safe,” he told you that enemies sometimes liked to use the heroes families and loved ones against them, “And I worry about what Missy would think. Just until we’re sure about what this is,” he paused as he looked at you with those big brown eyes as he cupped the side of your face, “I promise I won’t hurt you like your ex did.”

You nodded and smiled, “You’re right, Marcus.” The sincere look in his face told you that you could trust him with your heart.

From that day, months passed and the more time you spent with each other, the more you both knew that this was something serious. The nights you spent apart felt cold and lonely, and you fell asleep on the phone with him almost every night. You only stayed over when Missy was at a friend’s house, and Marcus always took you home before he went to pick her up in the morning.

She saw you come over at times, but you and Marcus insisted that you were just friends to her. It must be a family trait in the Moreno family to be likeable, because the more time you spent with Missy, the more you liked her too. She was fun and smart and a great kid. Sometimes, you would spend time there just to teach her how to bake or to help her paint a room as a surprise for Marcus. And she seemed to enjoy your company as well, which was a relief to you.

You and Marcus Moreno were in love, you were both completely sure of that. And after a long talk, you both decided it was time to tell Missy. So the next morning, you decided to bake a cake together and share the news with his daughter. What better way to break the news than with a delicious homemade cake?

You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this much. As capable as Marcus was out in the field, he could not make his way around the kitchen to save his life. Thankfully, you were there to save the day for him.

The two of you danced together as you added the ingredients one by one to the mixing bowl until the batter was nice and creamy. You couldn’t resist the temptation to dip your finger in and place a little dollop on Marcus’ nose. He giggled as he wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned in while you kissed the batter off his face.

Marcus mirrored your action and scooped even more batter than you did and smothered it across your face. His movement was less graceful than yours, but it was adorable. He pulled you close and nibbled at your skin as he licked the mess off your face, although he mostly just made a bigger mess in the process.

“Marcus…” you giggled as you tried to push him away when he found a ticklish spot on your skin, “We have to get this in the oven before we eat all the batter.”

“But you taste so sweet, baby,” he gave you a little pout as he tightened his grip on your hips.

“Ha ha,” you chortled back before you turned around and froze.

Marcus said your name in concern as he watched your posture stiffen. He followed your gaze to find that Missy came home early from her friend’s house and she stood in the doorway to the kitchen with her mouth open in shock. You took a step away from Marcus as fear ran through your system.

“Missy, listen,” Marcus stepped in front of you, “Let me explain,” he held his hands up as he tried to find the right words.

Her face stayed stoic, “You two are dating aren’t you?”

You held your breath but stayed silent.

Marcus sighed and dropped his head; this was not how he wanted his daughter to find out, but he also didn’t want to lie to her. “Yeah, we are,” he met her eyes, “But listen…”

“I knew it!” Missy’s face lit up as she bounced with joy, “I knew it!” she wrapped her arms around her father in a tight hug.

You stayed frozen, and it wasn’t until she let Marcus go and ran over to you that you broke from your trance. She hugged you tightly, and you felt the warmth in her embrace, “So… You’re ok with this?” you asked as you hugged her back.

“Are you kidding?!” she glanced between you and Marcus, “I figured this out months ago. You guys suck at hiding things,” she said with a chuckle.

Marcus’ eye met yours and you two shared a glance. You thought you were so careful when you were around Missy, but obviously you weren’t. Part of you was worried she wouldn’t be happy, even though you two got along so well, but her reaction was a huge relief.

Missy said your name to get your attention, “You make my dad happy, I can tell,” her words made tears from in your eyes, “And you don’t put the eggs in the sink.”

“Hey,” Marcus cut in, “That was one time.”

“Twice,” you and Missy replied in unison.

“Oh no,” Marcus sighed as you and Missy burst into laughter, “I’m in trouble now aren’t I? You two are going to start ganging up on me.”

You grabbed a spoon off the counter and dipped it into the batter before you handed it to Missy. She eagerly took it and licked the batter off while you stepped over to Marcus and wrapped your arms around him, “With a daughter that intuitive, you’re definitely in trouble, Marcus.”

He laughed at that as he held you tight against him and placed a sweet kiss to your cheek. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch.

“Ew,” Missy exclaimed, “Come on guys! Children are present,” she gestured to herself as she gave you two the same puppy dog eyes that Marcus used on you at times.

“Sorry, sorry,” you dropped your gaze as heat rose in your face from embarrassment, “How about we finish this cake together?”

Marcus moved so that he stood between you and Missy and put an arm around each of you, “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” Missy added with the brightest smile you had ever seen from her.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno imagine #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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thewildwaffle · 3 years

Text

Humans are Weird - Birthdays

Another prompt from a lovely user on ao3

When humans throw a party, they don’t mess around. Or well, they do, that’s like half the point of their parties most of the time. What they don’t mess around with is the planning, preparation, and all-out general excitement and energy that goes into their parties. Scarsels, they'd only gotten halfway through the setup and decorating for Human Dana’s party and it seemed like it would be almost as much fun as the party itself! The special occasion this time was to commemorate the anniversary of Human Dana’s birth. When Peterrias was first told about the party plans, he'd been a bit blown away by just how much of everything there was. His people celebrated the anniversary of their hatching day, sure, but it was usually more of a happy acknowledgment of the day itself and of the life lived to that point rather than a formal festivity. Excited to be a part of such an important Earth culture custom, he had volunteered to help get things set up. There was a lot more that went into a human birthday party than he realized. At first, he'd gone with Human Jackson to help make the refreshments and treats that would be available to guests. He'd spent a little bit of time cutting up fresh vegetables that were edible for everyone on the crew to eat and arrange them on a colorful platter. That didn’t take long to do, but by the time he had it done, all the food preparation tasks that involved working with “safe” ingredients had already been taken. Not wanting to be in the way of preparations there, Peterias had wandered back to the main rec hall where the party decorations were at that point well underway. The humans had requisitioned party supplies the last time they’d stopped in a port with a half-decent market. Earth wares, as popular as they’ve become, were pretty easy to find, even very specific items like balloons, streamers, and a large pack of funny-looking conical hats.

Garubi sefra and human Jieun were setting up the streamers now. They twisted the thin strips of colorful paper into beautiful, swirling, drapes that swept from one side of the room to the other. He paused to take in the sight for a moment. There was something familiar about it all, but he couldn’t figure out why. Anyway, it was a lovely scene. Humans really did go all out. Or maybe this was just a good outlet for them to vent any pent-up creativity and partying they’d been holding in for the past few partecs aboard the ship. He suspected a combination of both. “Is there anything I can do to help here,” he approached the decorators. Human Jieun was having to climb up and down a step ladder to reach high enough to place the streamers. Peterias was one of the few crewmates aboard that stood taller than humans. That with his long arms and great reach, this seemed like the perfect job for him. With a little explanation, a few hijinks that went on while figuring out how to not get the tape to stick to him, he had the entire hall “decked out” as Jieun declared. There was still about half a roll of the decorative paper leftover. He watched it as he bounced it in his hand, smiling as it dawned on him why it looked so familiar to him. It looked just like a popular candy he enjoyed when he was a young hatchling. Wouldn’t it just be like humans to use pretty sweets as decorations? He had to admit, it was kind of a fun idea to multitask like that. Making sure no one was watching, he snuck a tentative nibble at the paper. It was absolutely disgusting. Definitely not a sweet ribbon! Oh, by the stars, it was so bitter! “Did you just try eating the crepe paper?” Jieun clapped a hand on Peterias’ shoulder as he came up from behind. “I’d guess from your face that it wasn’t very good!” “Pleah! Pleh… I… uh, you… you saw that?” He figured Jieun’s laughter was enough affirmation. “To be fair,” Garubi came to Peterias’ aide, “when I first saw the streamers, I thought they looked like large rolls of sweet ribbon as well.” Jieun’s smile remained as large as ever. “Yeah, but you didn’t try eating it!” Garubi took the remainder of the streamer roll from Peterias and went to put it away. “Not when you were looking,” Peterias heard the sefra mutter quietly before he got too far. Even though the room was already looking very festive, humans do not mess around when it comes to throwing parties. He helped Jieun and a few others set up some games and activities for the party. Once again, many hands might light work and the only thing left to do, so Jieun said, was blow up a few more balloons. “Thanks for helping set up though, I really do appreciate it. Dana’s going to love this! She has no idea we’ve got this planned, I can’t wait to see the look on her face!” “Glad to be included in such an important celebration of life,” Peterias closed his eyes and nodded to return for Jieun’s smile. “I am also very excited about the party. If I may ask, do you know how many years Dana is marking today?” “Uh, well, she’s turning thirty-seven in Earth years. I’d have to do the math to convert that to galactic standardized. I know doing that would make it a fraction of some sort.” Peterias tilted his head trying to recall what he knew about Earth. Their day cycles fell into an average length among inhabited homeworlds. The way they divided their days was a little funny but close enough that many humans had no problem converting to galactic standardized times. Years though, years seemed a little long to him, though he couldn’t remember the conversion rate right at the moment. Still, even if they weren’t too far off of GS time, thirty-seven was quite the number! He hadn’t realized Dana was a senior citizen! “That’s amazing,” Peterias’ voice was excited but respectful. “Do you think she’ll stay on the crew much longer then?” “Uh, yeah, I mean I don’t know what she’s planning, but I’d think so. I mean, why wouldn’t she?” “Well,” Peterias wasn’t completely sure how best to say this without sounding offensive or rude. He’d heard humans could be touchy about their ages later on in life. “Won’t she… won’t she want to retire soon?” Half of Jieun’s face scrunched up to make a funny expression. “Retire? Why would she want to do that?” “Um, well, you know… as most species age, they find this line of work to start becoming… uh, well a bit too demanding on… uh… elderly bodies?” Jieun stared at him without saying anything that Peterias started worrying that he had broken some human taboo about talking about getting old. “Dude. Dana’s turning thirty-seven, not eighty-seven. And even if she was, I still don’t think she’d retire. Have you seen her on duty? That lady loves blasting asteroids.” Jieun chuckled as if recalling a memory as he grabbed a rubber balloon and began forcing air into it through his mouth. As Peterias watched the blue shape grow in size, something Jieun said finally clicked. “Wait, eighty-seven? Do humans live that long?!” Jieun removed the balloon from his lips and tied the end so the air wouldn’t escape. “Well, I mean, with proper diet and exercise, a bit of good luck and good genes, yeah. I mean nowadays, it’s not too crazy to see people living and even being fairly active into their hundreds.” “What?!” Jieun had to be joking. Humans loved playing practical jokes. He kept waiting for his crewmate’s face to break into a wide grin and laugh at his attempt to “pull his leg” as the human saying went. As the tiks went by though, Jieun didn’t back down from his bold statement and instead started blowing up another balloon. “Oh,” Peterias shook his head. “Oh how silly of me. I forgot about the year ratio. Earth must circumnavigate it’s star fairly quickly. There for a bit, I thought you were saying humans could live for over 100 galactic standard years.” Jieun opened his mouth and let the half-filled balloon propel itself around the room wildly. “Uh, yeah, we can. Easily. I think the ratio is like, uh just a little over two-thirds of an Earth year for every galactic standardized year. Something like that? If we’re talking SG years, 130 is around the average life expectancy. 180’s getting up there. I think the oldest living human right now is pushing 195 SG years or something like that.” Shivers ran down Peterias’ whole body. He felt the proto-feathers along his spine rise up. He felt like he was frozen in place as his brain used 100% of its capacity to try to process what he’d just been told. There was no way. He’d have known about this before, right? Of all the rumors that flew around about humans, this would have been one of them, right? He kept waiting for a punchline, for Jieun’s nonchalant facade to drop and for him to start laughing at the hilarious joke he’d been trying to get Peterias to believe. But it didn’t happen. He wasn’t joking. Instead, Jieun held out his hand. “Let me see, I guess that would make Dana....” His fingers went up and down as he calculated, “Oh, a little over sixty I guess. In SG, that is.” He then went to retrieve the balloon he’d let escape before and proceeded to blow it up again, tying it off this time. Peterias just stood there, still frozen. He watched the human continue to put the final touches of decorations around the room. How old was Jieun? He saw human Jackson enter the room, being helped by several other crewmates as they carried in platters of prepared party snacks. How old was he? How old were any of the other human crewmates aboard the ship? How much had they seen and how much life had they lived even before they stepped aboard the ship? He was finally pulled out of his frozen state as everyone scrambled to hiding spots. Realizing he was still standing in the middle of the room, Garubi came up behind him and led him to a spot where he could crouch behind a chair. “Come on, they said part of the celebration is to jump out and surprise the birthday celebrant when they arrive at their party.” Peterias allowed themselves to be pulled along and even made sure to tuck their tail in closely so as to hide better behind the chair. It was futile, he was too large, but thinking on that right now seemed beyond his capabilities. Dana was indeed surprised when she arrived. She screamed, out of shock at first, then in delight. There was a lot of laughter, music, and talking, and a surprising amount of very bad, off-key singing to a very repetitive song. It felt almost like visiting a harvest festival back home, so happy and celebratory! Except unlike the festivals, this was for one person. Before, it might have seemed a bit excessive, even by human standards. Now he realized that with this celebration of life, there was a lot of life to celebrate. The planning and preparation that had gone into the party was well worth the effort. Peterias hadn’t had as much fun in some time. It wasn’t any one particular game they played or amusing story that was told that made it so much fun. It was more just, how happy everyone was. The humans, especially Dana, just seemed to radiate a warm happy energy that was particularly infectious. Peterias smiled as he watched Jackson get animated as he recounted an adventure he’d had as a youth on Earth. It was, of course, a story about him doing something dangerous and how he got out of it, and he had several delighted crewmates hanging onto every word. Peterias, chuckled as a thought came to him while watching the scene. Humans live such long lives. He’d had no idea. He supposed that some, after hearing Jackson’s story and knowing what ridiculous antics humans got into on the regular, might postulate that humans live so long because death itself is hesitant to claim them. As he looked around the room though, he caught eyes with human Dana who smiled that strange warm, and slightly scary way that humans do. She held up her hands together to form a shape that he’d been told was a symbol of love and mouthed the words “thank you” to him. Peterias nodded and smiled back. His mind started wandering again. Somewhere in his brain, the new information of human’s life spans was being put together with other tales and warnings he’d ever heard about them like puzzle pieces. That’s why everyone’s always worried about offending humans. They have such long lives that they could hold grudges for what would be lifetimes for other races. That’s why they’re so good at multitasking or will often come onto crews with multiple advanced skills. They have plenty of time to hone their talents. That’s why they can be so forgetful at times. They have a lot of life stored in their memories. There was a large collection of gasps and laughter from the crowd around Jackson as he finished up his story. Soon, Dana took over as the next storyteller about one of her own fool-hardy enterprises she’d had once. It wasn’t quite as much of an adventurous tale as Jackson’s had been, but it was a good story and she told it well. Peterias smiled as he listened in. He was glad humans lived so long, for a lot of reasons. Maybe those who half-joked when they said that death was afraid to claim humans were right. They certainly were a handful in the realm of life, they’d probably continue to be a handful in the realm beyond. In any case, whatever the reason may be, he was glad he’d have his friends around for a long time.

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans live a long time #space #aliens #writeblr #ao3 #prompt #original writing #birthday #sci-fi

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a-simple-imagine · 4 years

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New Student

Requested by anonymous: “I was thinking maybe having the reader be a transfer student from Ilvermorny and Hermione tutors her to help her catch up with the curriculum of the new school.”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 4.3k+

Warnings - Prejudice and brief mention of pain

"I understand that your family is of pure descent, correct?" You can't help but fidget in your seat; the vibrant pink of her office was making you extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention the gentle mewing coming from the plates that decorated the walls. It was one thing to love cats but surely this grew annoying after a while. You nod a little as you sit up straighter. The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was currently reading your transfer file. Having once attended school overseas, you were new to Hogwarts but instead of arriving like everyone else you were in your fifth year of education and the term had already begun for everyone else. Of course, your father cleared this with the school ahead of time but it was still embarrassing arriving so late. Not to mention, everyone else had four years of relationships and you were now just some weird new kid. "I do hope you'll consider your friends wisely while attending Hogwarts."

"May I ask what you mean by that Professor?" That was the first question you had asked since stepping through that door and you were very quickly regretting it. The woman wore a sickeningly sweet smile as she lowered the file from before her face.

"As a fifth-year student, you will be expected to take your OWLs this year. Do you believe your last establishment has prepared you for your examinations?"

"I guess," you shrug. You'd never had any trouble getting good grades in the past but Professor Umbridge didn't look convinced. Scribbling something down on her parchment, she pauses for a moment to meet your eyes.

"I would suggest acquiring a tutor for additional support. I can arrange for one of your peers to meet with you."

"That's quite alright, Professor." You dread to think of the tutor she would assign you; probably someone very studious and strict. Boring comes to mind too. "You're much too busy to concern yourself with such a task. I believe I'm quite capable of finding someone on my own."

"It is great to see a young witch taking some initiative," Her smile felt more genuine this time whereas yours was awkward.

"If that is all, may I go?"

"Of course. Run along dear" Slowly rising, you wish you could actually run out of the office and never come back but you proceed calmly. Only stopping by the door when you hear her speak once more. "But do keep in mind what I've said. We wouldn't want you falling in with the wrong kind of wizards while you're here. I expect your last school taught you how to conduct yourself."

"Thank you for your time, Professor Umbridge." With a bow of your head, you slip out the door with a sigh of the utmost relief. She was a very... intense woman to be around. After one meeting, you had another but this time it was with your head of house. Having arrived so late, you didn't partake in the sorting ceremony; which honestly you were kind of grateful for. Having to be sorted with a bunch of eleven-year-olds in front of the whole school definitely would have followed you around. Professor McGonagall briskly glides down the hallway as you stumble a few steps behind. She was the head of Gryffindor.

"I hate to be a bother but Professor Umbridge suggested I get a tutor and I was wondering if you might know a suitable candidate? With having started a few weeks after everyone else and OWLs fast approaching, I thought it was best to be safe than sorry"

"Your transcripts from your previous school don't suggest you'll have much trouble but a tutor may be beneficial," The older woman glanced back at you with a warm smile. "I have the perfect witch for the job. She's a real credit to Gryffindor. You were in Thunderbird previously?"

"Yes ma'am. Thunderbird House was considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard and favoured adventures," you announce proudly. "I've never felt like much of an adventurer myself though."

"I'm sure you'll be a grand edition to Gryffindor. I may be biased but we're the best house at Hogwarts."

"I don't doubt that," Although you had no clue about any of the other houses to compare. "If you don't mind me asking Professor, where are we going?"

"To introduce you to your new tutor. She's in your first class so I thought I would escort you."

"Oh," You scramble forward a little faster to keep up with the woman; falling into step. "Do you think she'll be enough? I transferred at such an awkward time."

Hogwarts castle was as big as you'd imagine which made the journey to your first class seem like an eternity. As you're led down the hallway and into the dungeon, it's like the atmosphere completely changes. It's dark and cold down here. She comes to a stop outside a classroom, you peer around Professor McGonagall to see students sat at desks with small cauldrons placed before them.

"Can I speak to Miss Granger?" McGonagall asks of the teacher. He didn't seem too happy about the intrusion but he doesn't object. After a moment, a girl with luscious locks of mahogany brown steps through the door; she looks worried.

"Have I done something wrong, Professor?" Her eyes fall to yours and you offer up a small smile which she returns.

"Of course not. I just wanted to introduce you to our newest student. She'll be joining Gryffindor and was in the market for a tutor. As one of the finest students in all of Hogwarts, I thought of you."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in response to the praise. "I would be happy to help, Professor."

It was becoming more clear that whoever this girl was, she was very eager to please. It was written in her body language or the way she addressed McGonagall. She introduces herself as Hermione Granger before heading back into class to ensure she doesn't miss anything. The nerves set in as you realise you're supposed to follow.

"A new student for you, Professor." Guess there was no turning back, you step through the archway. It was rather dull and dark but it matched the feeling of the dungeons. The shelves were lined with varying ingredients and while students had previously been working on potions, now all their attention was drawn to you.

"A little late for new additions," The man spoke slowly; he had a nasally sound to his voice. His displeasure transformed into a scowl aimed directly at you. The whispers of nosey students fill the awkward silence

"I'm-"

"Just take a seat," He demands and you didn't think twice about it. Hurrying to the first open seat you could find. "We don't have time for frivolous introductions."

Potions class had never been something you had struggled with but it seemed that the Professor - whose name you had come to learn as Snape - seemed to be making it as difficult as possible. Every question was thrown at you despite other students who will not be named being so eager to answer them. They were also specific questions such as where to find certain ingredients within the confines of the UK which you had no clue. You knew today was going to be a very long day.

Lunchtime approached and nothing felt more daunting today than being in a room full of students and not knowing a single one. You park yourself down at the end of Gryffindor table, food lined the middle and you grab a few sandwiches placing them on your plate. You're not sure if it's relief or something else when you spot the only girl you knew so far come to join you; followed by some friends.

"McGonagall gave me your timetable," She announces, sitting down opposite you. "and I have created a schedule that ensures we have enough time to cover everything."

"When did you have time to make this?" You wonder, taking a bite of the sandwich you'd picked up. It wasn't half bad.

"Never underestimate Hermione's ability to do a boring task," Next to her sat a boy with ginger hair; he wore a welcoming smile on his face that was peppered with freckles. "I'm Ron by the way."

The others that had arrived alongside Hermione, introduced themselves one by one. There was Ginny Weasley who was related to Ron; even if she hadn't told you it wasn't hard to figure out. Then there was the famous Harry Potter. A name you knew only in passing; rumours spread all around the world about him. Hermione slides a piece of parchment across the table. Along the top sat the days of the week and down the side were hours within the day. They were colour coded by type so each potion class and potion study sessions were in green and so on. Pretty much every square had been filled in with one boring task or another. "This is... a lot."

"Considering our classes this morning, you seem rather behind so I thought it was best that we take every opportunity to bring you up to speed," Having moved to England, the accent and speed in which they spoke was rather hard to understand but you don't bring it up. "We have a lot to cover before exams."

"I'm actually rather good at potions," you protest. "Professor Snape was asking me weird questions. How am I supposed to know where to find things, I've only just moved here."

"Snape can be a right git," Ron mumbles through a mouth full of food.

"You're from America, right?" This time it's Harry who speaks. There's a part of you that wants to ask about his scar but considering you've just met it seemed too rude to voice.

"Yes," you nod. "I attended Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry until my father insisted on sending me here once we moved."

"Hogwarts is the best wizarding school in the world." Hermione declares. "Or so I've read."

"I liked my old school," You'd grown used to the mechanics of Ilvermorny plus you had friends there. "Hermione, no offence, but I would kind of like to have a little fun while I'm here and this leaves no time for literally anything else? What about clubs or quidditch?"

"Studying is fun. What could be more beneficial than acquiring new knowledge," Hermione's expression is genuine but you can't see yourself thinking studying is the epitome of fun any time soon. "I will not let Professor McGonagall down by not preparing you properly. So that means hard work- we will start after lunch."

"Is she always like this?" You turn to the others.

"Pretty much." They all agree. Maybe this had been a mistake?

"So you're the new girl, huh?" A shadow lingers over you and you look up to the culprit. That vibrant red hair seemed to be everywhere, you frown a little before looking to Ron.

"Heard you came all the way from America." Another one appears beside him, a broad smile on display. Twins?

"They're my brothers," Ron answers the question before you can even ask. There sure were a lot of Weasleys in this castle.

"How many Weasleys are there?"

"I have six siblings, Ginny is the youngest. Bill, Charlie and Percy have already left though."

"I'm Fred." One of the twins announces, patting your shoulder a little. "The most handsome Weasley brother."

"I'm George and I'm much more handsome than that git," He shoves his brother playfully.

"You're identical twins,"

"No, we're not," George protests. "Fred here is adopted. I can't believe you think we look the same."

"I'm offended you think I look like this tosspot, I'm much prettier." He dramatically pretends to flip his hair over his shoulder.

"We can show you around if you like?" They both offer; as bad as it sounds you knew you were gonna struggle remembering who was who.

"We know every corner of this place." Fred declares

"Every nook and cranny." George continues. "We also the guys to go to if you ever need anything- think fanged frisbees or puking pastels. We've got you covered."

"Uh..." Glancing to your timetable, you hold it up for them to see. "I don't think I'll have time for a tour between classes and study sessions."

"Shame."

"Guess we'll see you around then, Miss America." They both leave you alone to finish your lunch.

Written down Hermione's schedule was a lot but attending sessions was ten times worse. The constant studying was exhausting; how she was able to just keep going was crazy but impressive. Today was Arithmancy study in the Gryffindor common room. You were sat beside Hermione at the desk; sketching her side profile on the parchment filled with unfinished sums as she explained what she was doing. Every so often she'd look at you and you'd look away. Careful not to get caught staring as you perfected each delicate line that made up her face.

"And that's how you get fifty-six- see?" Hermione shows you her work, tapping the answer with the tip of her quill.

Staring at the answer didn't make much sense but neither did the working out. You hadn't been listening at all so you flash her a sympathetic smile. "I don't get it,"

"Are you even paying attention?" Her brow crinkled; her quill falling to the desk.

"Yes-"

"Let's see your work then?" Before she can grab it, you drag your parchment away. Smothering the contents with the palms of your hands.

"No."

"Show me." She requested firmly. Eyes narrowing in on you as if issuing a challenge. With a heavy sigh, you back down. Handing over your work.

"Fine. I wasn't paying attention," You admit with a shrug; leaning over the back of the chair to stare up at the ceiling. "Arithmancy is just so boring."

"You chose to take it,"

"My parents forced me to take it," You correct, glancing back at her. Taking your parchment between her fingers, it's hard to miss the rush of colour that floods her pale cheeks. You didn't think your drawing was that good; definitely not even close to some of your other work. If anything you were embarrassed by how bad it was.

"It's pretty rough like I could do better if I had more time and my pencils" Drawing provided you with a distraction when it was most needed. You'd only started a year ago but it quickly developed into your hobby of choice. Learning to sketch people had been tough but after spending pretty much every class, staring at your fellow students you had gotten decent at it.

"It's..." Hermione trails off, handing back your work. "Can you please focus?"

"We've been at this for hours." A long groan leaves your throat as you slump down in your seat. Arms folded over your chest.

"Just a few more questions before we finish,"

You were finally growing used to your life at Hogwarts. Most of your time was spent with Hermione but you did manage to convince her to ease up a little. She grew busy with a club or something so she was more than happy to leave you to your own devices.

"You wanted to see me, Professor," you announce, entering the pink lion's den. It was somehow looking even pinker than the last time you stepped foot in here.

"Ah yes, please do take a seat. I'll be just a moment." Dropping your bag down beside the chair, you sit in the seat she signalled to. There wasn't a lot of time before you were supposed to meet Hermione to practice some charms. After a moment, Professor Umbridge speaks up. "Do you know why I've asked to see you?"

You shake your head slowly.

"Do you remember what I told you when you first arrived?"

"To get a tutor? I don't believe I'm falling behind in my classes." Hermione had been a great teacher overall; ensuring you understand everything before moving on although Snape still had a habit of asking you questions you didn't know. Was this about that?

"I'm referring to your choice in companions."

"Oh," you swallow hard. You didn't know what to say to that. Since arriving you'd started hanging with Hermione and her friends. You'd also found yourself drawn to the Weasley twins on the odd occasion. "Uh... I can assure you I've made friends Professor."

"I've noticed," she didn't sound pleased "Professor Snape also mentioned that you've been a wee bit disruptive in his class."

"That's not a fair judgment-" The words leave your lips sharper than intended but fall short when you notice the crease across the other woman's forehead.

"As headmaster, you must realise that I can't allow you to disrupt the way this school runs. Therefore you will be punished." Other than getting questions wrong, you wouldn't say you've done much else wrong in Snape's class. It wasn't fair that you were being punished for something so trivial but speaking up seemed like a one way trip to something worse. "Don't look so worried. You'll just be writing lines for me."

"Writing lines," you repeat cautiously. That seemed easy enough before you could reach into your bag, a quill and piece of parchment are placed before you. "What do you want me to write?"

"I must not fraternise with muggle-borns,"

"What does that have to do with Snape's class?" You wonder.

"Just do as your told," Umbridge quips quickly. "I do believe you've been seen around the castle with Miss Granger, correct?"

"Hermione?" You hardly believed Hermione had done anything to step out of line. Plus what did that have to do with anything? You were allowed to be friends with whoever you wanted. "Of course she is my tutor after all."

"It seems it may be more than that," Umbridge's sickeningly sweet giggle fills the office. "Now please begin."

"You haven't given me any ink?"

Striding behind her desk, she takes a seat and offers a smile. "You won't need any,"

Picking up the quill, you twist it between your fingers trying to figure out its secrets. It was black in colour, long, thin, and looked to be extremely sharp. Clearly, it was an enchanted quill if it didn't need ink. The tip glides across the paper with ease, gracing its surface with the ridiculous phrase you'd been forced to write in shiny red ink. How many times was she expecting you to do this? Hermione wouldn't be happy if you turned up late to one of your study sessions... again. A weird tingling spilt through the back of your hand before transforming into a sharp pain as you write the phrase a second time. Each letter appeared on your hand as you write it as if etched there by a scalpel. You drop the quill and the words slowly fade away but not without leaving your hand red. "Keep writing," Umbridge draws your attention, peering over from behind her teacup. You take a deep breath and write I must not fraternize with muggle-borns, the searing pain returned to your hand as you saw the phrase carved into your skin. You flex your hand as if that would relieve the pain but again the wound heels over. You no longer stopped between each line, the burning in your hand now a constant but it seemed after so many times the phrase was no longer fading. The hand on your shoulder startles you; the quill slipping from your grip.

"I think that's enough, you're free to go." Grabbing your bag, you leap out of your seat and rush for the door. "As a witch of your social standing, you should know better."

Head down, you charge through the castle to go meet Hermione but your speed slows as you realise tears prick your eyes. Dropping down on the nearest bench, you bury your face in your hands. Surely that kind of punishment wasn't allowed?

"If it isn't our favourite American." Head shooting up, you spy Fred and George. After all this time, you were beginning to be able to tell them apart.

"Why so glum, chum?" Your eyes drift just briefly to the scar on your hand. The twins taking up space either side of you.

"It's nothing- I'm fine."

"If you're fine, why are you crying?" Fred puts his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

"I'm not crying," but you have to wipe your cheeks to make sure. "I just..." you couldn't explain why you were so upset. Your thumb brushes over the back of your hand.

"Oh- it's no so bad," Fred squeezes your arm gently, they must have figured it out. "It'll fade soon enough."

"And it doesn't hurt very long, look." George shows you the back of his hand, you can't even read what it was supposed to have said. It doesn't make you feel better. "Don't cry, she's not worth it."

"Can you two leave me alone?"

"Nope," George's thumb brushes away a stray tear before tapping you on the end of your nose. You couldn't help but smile a little as you scrunched up your nose.

"We don't leave pretty sad girls alone in corridors to cry." Fred insists. "How about you show us what she had you write?"

Unsure about the decision, you let the two of them see what Umbridge had done. George takes hold of your hand, inspecting it carefully. "I must not fraternize with muggle-borns," George reads out quietly. "Do much fraternizing do you?"

"I don't even know any muggle-borns," Is all you say in response. Muggle was such a dumb word.

"Uh... Hermione? Aren't you two like best friends," Fred comments

"Hermione is No-Maj-born?" So that was why Umbridge had seemed so interested in your relationship. It was clear she held prejudice against No-Majs so it was only logical that she was trying to keep you, a pure-blood wizard, from mixing with Hermione, A no-maj-born.

"No-maj?" George questions

"Right, no-maj stand for no magic? You call em muggles." You sniffle, drying your cheeks properly.

"Ah no-maj." they both repeat.

Feeling a little better the twins escort you to your courtyard for your session with Hermione. She was packing up her textbook when she finally notices you. 0What did I tell you about punctuation? I will not tolerate sitting around here like a fool- if you do not wish to take your studies seriously then don't bother asking me to tutor you at all." The fire behind her eyes brings you to tears only this time they were hot and fast. Spilling down your face as a result of being yelled at. Hermione's expression drops, your tears extinguishing the fire. "I- Uh... sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I-It's alright," With the sleeve of your cardigan, you try to wipe away all evidence of your breakdown.

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"Umbridge," You don't even try to conceal it now. "I don't think she likes that we're hanging out."

"I'm sorry she did that to you," She takes your hand in hers, her fingertip dancing delicately over your scar. It was ripe to the touch causing you to flinch a little; pulling your hand away. "You should tell your parents."

"And cause more trouble?" Was she crazy? "I don't want to give her any more reason to drag me into the office again."

"Then... if you don't wish to continue our study sessions, I would understand. I don't want to get you into trouble." Hermione fidgets with the strap of her bag, unable to look you in the eye. It was probably the smartest choice to never hang out with Hermione again. It would certainly save you from future punishments but if you did that you'd undoubtedly miss her. She'd become such a constant In your life, you could imagine it without her in it.

"I like our sessions together," You declare, offering her the warmest smile you could muster. "Can we skip today though? My hand stings and I'm really not in the mood anymore."

"Sure," Her smile looks almost sad in comparison. "Should we go get some dinner?"

Finishing up packing, the two of you head for the great hall. There was no way Umbridge was gonna dictate who you can be friends with even if it meant more punishment.

Christmas approaches fast and brought with it a merry aura that filled every inch of the castle. You linger in the courtyard with your suitcase waiting for Hermione. She promised to meet you before you left but had a commitment to attend to first. You don't question her but you do wish she'd hurry up; it was awfully cold out here. It's a miracle when she finally shows up, a bright smile as she approaches

"I just wanted to give you this before I go." Digging through your pockets, you produce a folded up piece of paper; taking a few steps closer.

"What is it?"

"Open it," The nerves settled in your stomach as she unfolded the paper. This time, using your pencils, you'd manage to create an almost collage of sketches. Each one of the girl who stood next to you right now during different times in the past month. It seemed like a nice little farewell gift. "Have a good break, yeah?"

"These are... you're really good." Hermione meets your soft gaze. Her face pink in colour but that may have been due to the cold. "Thank you." She wears a small, embarrassed smile. "When did you have time to draw these?"

"Never underestimate my ability to avoid my responsibilities and draw pretty girls instead," you tease. Leaning toward you place a kiss against her cheek before pointing to the address you'd written on the bottom. "Write to me."

#Hermione Granger #Hermione Granger x reader #Hermione x reader #Harry potter #hermione granger imagine

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hualianff · 3 years

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Mi Amor(tentia) II 《I》

Every Sunday, XL personally delivers the ingredients to HC to restock after each week. Sometimes it’s during the morning before classes, HC inviting XL to stay and chat over coffee.

Other times, it’s in the middle of HC’s classes because XL’s only has so many chunks of free time to drop the ingredients off. XL usually keeps himself scarce as he helps himself to deposit the ingredients off on HC’s desk in his office.

On days XL is especially busy with classes, meetings with outside personnel and tending to the school’s greenhouse, his sixth-year teaching assistant, BY, will deliver ingredients to HC.

HC is easily the person XL enjoys spending time with the most. They have such fun conversations and HC makes XL feel so comfortable and listened to. Plus, HC is undeniably charming and handsome. XL thanks whatever higher power there is that someone as refined as HC took XL under his wing.

XL has learned and observed that HC is a professor that students either love or hate. Some perceive the potions professor as sketchy-looking and unfair in his grading. They take HC’s pushing as ridiculing, then complain about their poor marks after refusing to do the bare minimum of the assignment.

(Unbeknownst to HC, XL has taken it upon himself to passive aggressively warn these students from bad-mouthing HC in the hallways.)

Understandably, The first year students absolutely cower in HC’s presence. But from fourth year and up, HC is one of the most loved professors. When HC begins to passionately lecture with really big hand gestures and funny word combinations, the students can’t help but admire him with starry eyes.

(Student: “Hua Lao Shi, I don’t think ‘impossibleness�� is a word.”

HC: “It is now. As I was saying, don’t let the impossibleness of a goal influence your confidence in working towards it. You should not pay attention to whether something is possible or not, but rather focus on what steps you’re taking to find your answer.)

He’s clearly smart; intellectually based from the readings he assigns students from his own books; socially as his humor is always on point and he never misses a beat to tease his students; and emotionally because HC does not tolerate bullying in his house or his classroom. (Nor in the school, if he can help it.)

HC himself was bullied back in the muggle orphanage and during his time at Hogwarts. He knows what it feels like to wake up dreading going to classes and interacting with people who had nothing better to do than put others down.

So while HC can seem intimidating and blunt at first, he genuinely has his students’ best interests and wellbeing in mind. Witnessing how seriously HC takes his job as a teacher and trusted adult figure, XL’s feelings wrap around him like vines and squeeze him in their hold anytime he’s around HC.

XL’s never had a crush like this before.

Later in the semester, XL and HC are chosen as the professors to monitor the first years on their first trip to Hogsmeade. There is no doubt the transfiguration professor, SQX, took part in pulling some strings to make this happen for XL.

What no one knows is that the defense against the dark arts professor also played matchmaker. In an intense game of wizard's chest that unfortunately ended in his defeat, HX was forced to nominate HC to go with XL.

HC and XL make the best guides. XL is very enthusiastic in answering first years’ questions while HC is good at describing things through muggle terminology.

During his years at Hogwarts, XL has always loved the Hogsmeade trips and bought new candies from Honeydukes each time. In fact, he has a huge sweet tooth that he can never satisfy. Cue XL showing the students around Honeydukes and HC buying all of XL’s favorite goodies in the background.

When it’s time to move on to the next store, HC presents the bagged sweets to XL with a smile.

(XL, staring at the bagged sweets: “San Lang! You shouldn’t have!”

HC, grabbing XL’s hand and physically transferring the bag: “Nonsense. Gege deserves a reward for working so hard lately. Giving him a few candies is the least I can do.”

XL, clutching the bag tightly, fingers tingling from brushing against HC’s own: “If you insist. Many thanks, San Lang.”

XL snacks on some sweets for the rest of the trip. HC watches with a pleased eye.)

One day during finals week before winter break, XL falls ill with a terrible migraine. He’s been prone to migraines for a while now, which he’s used to enduring with medicine tablets that don’t do much to ease the pain.

XL manages to get through his morning classes. But by lunch time, his stomach pain worsened tenfold to which HC, who planned on having lunch with XL, convinced the herbology professor to take the rest of the day off.

“But my classes-” XL’s voice breaks off as he winces as another wave of nausea sweeps through his body. HC puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I will fill in for you,” HC assures. XL looks like he’s about to protest, however, the potions professor holds a finger up to his lips. “I can quickly brew something up for your pain. You like the smell of eucalyptus, right? I can add a faint scent to soothe your sinuses too.”

“San Lang…”

HC fixes XL with a pointed stare. XL’s face softens, eyes closing in defeat.

“Thank you,” he says gratefully. Without thinking, HC reaches over to cup XL’s cheek, sliding back to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear before massaging his temple.

“It’s not a problem. Gege needs rest.”

Luckily, HC doesn’t have afternoon classes lined up for the afternoon. Once XL has retired to his room to relax, HC settles behind XL’s desk as students filter in for class to take the final exam.

(Students who had potions that morning entering the herbology room: “Oh shit-”)

Between classes, HC completes the tasks written in XL’s planner he left during lunch. Unfortunately, HC has a certain TA who sidles up next to him out of nowhere, whispering inconspicuously, “I know you have the hots for Xie Lao Shi.”

HC, who had been marking scrolls, jolts in shock. His left hand streaks across the parchment, leaving a red trail in its wake.

(Student who receives his scroll with a huge red line: “The fuck???? Does this mean it’s wrong? Do I need to do it again?”)

HC ignores BY as he continues about his business. Except BY rolls a chair right beside the desk, her prying eyes making HC feel like he needs to cover more than just his right eye.

“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Liar.”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady-”

“Watch how you speak to your professor, young lady,” BY repeats in a nasally voice. HC tightly clenches the pen in his hand. BY, unfazed about testing HC’s patience, sighs pitifully. “Sorry, Hua Lao Shi. I swear, I’m only trying to help.”

“Help with what?” HC asks, attempting to remain oblivious. BY gives HC a deadpan. “Ok, fine. How could you possibly help?”

“Well, I heard that Xie Lao Shi might be crushing on another professor-” HC chokes on his spit. “-and maybe you two…”

BY taps the tips of her pointer fingers together.

“What!?” HC aggressively clears his throat. The scrolls are long forgotten now. “H-how do you know?”

“He told me,” BY reveals, smirking like the devil’s child.

“Who is it? Tell me more,” HC demands.

“Ah ah ah–you first.”

HC can’t believe this girl who has him cornered is the same timid third-year transfer student who couldn’t even look him in the eye. He bites his tongue, reluctant to discuss his person of interest with a seventeen-year-old. BY just sits there, looking unbothered as she examines her nails while waiting for HC to cave.

It doesn’t take more than ten minutes before HC admits it.

“Fine. Yes, I like Xie Lao Shi.”

“What do you like about him?” BY asks immediately. HC itches to take points from Hufflepuff; what is this, an interrogation?

To no one’s surprise, HC spends the next half hour praising XL’s selling points (which are all of them) and subtly hinting how plans to ask the herbology professor out soon. BY unhelpfully inputs that HC needs to confess his feelings first.

“And then he needs to accept your feelings too,” she adds, much to HC’s irritation.

“I thought you were helping me?”

“I am,” BY smiles innocently. “By listening.”

“You’re not going to tell me who…?” HC falls silent, glaring at the last scroll he finished grading. A glance at his watch indicates there are fifteen minutes left before the final class of the day begins.

“Of course not. I don’t go around spilling professors’ secrets, especially Xie Lao Shi’s,” BY says. HC nods in resignation.

BY doesn’t tell HC shit in the end, yet somehow made him unload a few things about his feelings regarding XL. HC supposes she was right about the listening part.

Must be some sort of witchcraft. (HC tells himself that XL definitely would’ve laughed at this thought.)

Strangely, HC feels better after this little confessional session. Though he is incredibly curious as to who has caught XL’s eye in this school. HC’s heart painfully twists in on itself at the possibility that it’s anyone but him.

HC desperately hopes BY’s rule about not sharing secrets applies to him as well.

《III》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #HP AU #cerdrabbles #TBC #Banyue is menace #she and HC are close though #XL simps club #no I still don’t support JKR

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shoeshineyboy · 3 years

Text

what the hell is Coldkiller X?

“it’s the cold medicine from Ace Attorney and evidence in the first case of Trials and Tribulations” - it sure is! but from a pharmaceutical perspective, the details are... hazy, at best. on this episode of Zara unravels I’m going to put off doing my actual pharmacy essay by trying to figure out the pharmaceutical properties of Coldkiller X (or Coldkiller Z, in the Japanese version), because nothing ruins the experience of a game I first played decades ago like medical unknowns

so, first of all, what is it?

I saw a picture of Coldkiller X, and my first question was, “jesus christ, what even is that?”. obviously, it’s a bottle of... some form of solid oral medication. but looking at this picture, they’re too spherical to be tablets, and the wrong shape to be capsules:

...however, I then remembered that as a person with problems I take a lot of Neurofen Plus (generic name ibuprofen), that they come in something called a liquid capsule - a capsule containing the liquid form of the medication inside. WHICH MEANS THAT Coldkiller X’s slogan, “kills colds good”, is... not just a marketing ploy. liquid capsules are faster acting than regular capsules or tablets, because once the coating is dissolved in the stomach, the active ingredient in the medication doesn’t need to dissolve, and can be absorbed quicker by the body, so that it can act.

okay, but what actually is it?

...the next question on my mind was figuring out what its purpose was - what symptoms of the cold are relieved by taking Coldkiller X? now - despite saying it “kills colds”, that... isn’t typically what cold medicines actually do - they don’t attack the virus itself, but instead serve to eliminate the symptoms. but what symptoms was Feenie looking to eliminate? well, most likely, sneezing and a blocked/runny nose, so I think he’s looking for a decongestant, here.

and, great news, decongestants are available in liquid and solid form! given that this is a video game, after all, we can take a few creative liberties here and assume that the Master Group figured out liquid capsules, even if the drugs that I’m basing this off of don’t come in liquid capsule form.

...because, that’s the next step - figuring out what the active ingredient in Coldkiller X would be. and, here’s the thing - my experience in pharmacy is more in oncology (cancer), and I’ve never worked in community pharmacy, so my knowledge of cold and flu medicine is. limited. lucky for me, I have google, and I found a site with a list of common decongestants - and it was at this point, that I realised I was really pushing the limits of this joke. if I spent too much time on it, I’d be taking it seriously, so I looked up what the best decongestant was, and came up with pseudophenedrine.

and, good thing too, since, out of the list, it was the only one that came up with both solid and liquid forms. I gave them all a quick look over, but found that pseudophenedrine was probably the closest I was gonna get to this fictional, not real medication that no normal person has given a second thought.

...but, there was a problem. pseudophenedrine only comes in pack sizes of 12 when bought from the pharmacy, and Feenie definitely had more than 12 in that bottle. however, apparently, pseudophenedrine in greater amounts is available on prescription, too - so we can assume that maybe Feenie was prescribed it and therefore able to access more of it, though it’s available for everyday sale in smaller quantities

so, that’s fine! and it’s been years since I’ve played this case, if Dahlia claims it’s hers, hey, they’re at college, there’s always sicknesses going around, right?

so... I could leave it here, and say Coldkiller X is pseudophenedrine, but where’s the fun in that? we know that the Coldkiller brand was around since at least 2000, since Ray states he uses it in AAI2 case 3. I’m not going into the technicalities of branded and generics, but we can say from looking at, well, literally any OTC drug name that Coldkiller isn’t the generic.

we’ve established that Coldkiller is a decongestant with similarities to pseudophenedrine. the suffix “-ine” indicates that the drug is an antihistamine - used to treat allergy symptoms, though these are given to relieve cold symptoms, too. so, cool! we can say that the generic name for the Coldkiller medicine ends in -ine.

now, prefixes can be a little more creative. Pfizer (known for viagra, and their covid vaccine) outlines some rules - at least two syllables, not containing certain letters, not counted as marketing, and not suggesting that the drug only has one purpose. these rules don’t seem to be totally consistent across the board, given the existence of, say, Warfarin, and, again, don’t want to spend too long on this - but I’m going to take a couple of these rules - namely, the marketing one, and the one involving at least two syllables.

the marketing one simply means ruling out anything to do with Master, since, when the patent expires, it won’t be theirs alone to produce. so... what else corresponds with Coldkiller? looking at the cases where it features, you have pseudonyms, twins, uh... ice, betrayal... there’s something there. given the drug that I’m inspired by, I’m going to take the “pseudo” part of pseudonym, as a nod to pseudophenedrine. pseudonine? pseudotwinine?

...maybe just pseudonamine. it sounds a lot like I just butchered “pseudonym”, but, hey, this is a video game, and the Master group does deal with things called “fatallium” and “normallium”...

Coldkiller X, generic name Pseudonamine, available in packs of 12 liquid capsules, to be taken up to 4 times daily when necessary for the relief of symptoms of coughs and colds in adults. To be taken with caution for those with heart conditions, not to be given to children under 6. Side-effects rare, but contact your doctor or pharmacist with any concerns.

Coldkiller X - Kills Colds Good!

#ace attorney #WHY DID I SPEND THIS MUCH TIME ON THIS PLEASE #anyway uh. i figured out the generic name of coldkiller x #i'm done making good contributions to this fandom now this is all you're getting #also uh #aai2 spoilers #i guess

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Seven

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 7 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: abusive parental relationship; strong language; canon-level violence (explosions); mentions of alcohol poisoning; mention of Infinity War/Endgame deaths; perceived domestic partner abuse (no such thing actually happens!); concussions and minor injuries; mentions of arranged marriages; mentions of drug smuggling and human smuggling; lying; ANGST!

Word Count: 14,100+

A/N: So close to the finish line...

Spain, 2024, 5:07 pm.

“Get the damn ice cream, Peter. I’m not holding you back.”

The kid sped down the sidewalk as fast as his feet would let him, skips in his steps and ignoring the chastising yells from Bucky.

“You’re letting him have sugar?” Bucky whines, sluggish in his own steps. The Spanish summer sun was blaring, burning your forehead and building the same cold craving in your throat. It was just the three of you, carefree but melting, happy but annoyed with the constant proximity of each other. The villa (if you could call it that, it was more of a cottage) was listed as having three rooms - not the two you were stuck with. Bucky was at the last inch of self-control, begging you to switch with him - if only for one night - because ‘the kid fuckin’ talks in his sleep, doll! One more night and I might smother him.’

It was Bucky’s idea to take a little vacation. A year after the blip and only a few months after Peter’s world was turned upside down, a vacation seemed like the best choice. Preferably somewhere that was quiet and somewhat rural - somewhere you guys won’t be easily recognized.

So the three of you packed and flew across the pond. In all honesty, you hadn’t even told the rest of the team where you were going besides Wanda. One day you were greeting them in the common room and preparing lunch, the other you were throwing your suitcase in one of the two vacant rooms in this little Spanish cottage. The three of you were truly off the map in terms of late notice.

“Let the kid live. He’s having a mid-life crisis at eighteen.”

“I’ve had more mid-life crisis’s than his age combined. He’s not special.” The pointed look on your face had Bucky sighing in small defeat. “Okay, okay.”

These past two weeks in shared solitude, even if this trip was supposed to be relaxing, was beginning to melt into a tiresome routine. Well, just nights. The days were mild at best. And to make matters worse, you and Bucky had been dodging the team’s calls, messages that you left for voicemail. Bucky had clicked ‘end call’ more times than he could count and his excuse was always, ‘ the kid doesn’t want to leave, doll.’ Even annoyed with Peter, Bucky wanted only the best.

It was only a matter of time until your phones were tracked and you were forced to come home. Everyone probably knew where you were anyway - you weren’t exactly hiding. But since you already got a good two weeks in, you figured they had taken some sympathy.

“Think we can get him to visit a museum today or something?”

Bucky shrugged, lining up at the coffee stand near the ice cream cart. “Saw him checking out banana bread recipes last night. Seems more like a baking day.”

You could go for some banana bread. Ordering two iced coffees and making more miscellaneous small talk while waiting for Peter to order, you studied the streets of Spain. The country had suffered greatly when, cruelly, more than half their population disappeared. Left in proper ruins, no one believed it would ever recover. But then there was an election, a change in the structural government, and it just… did. They rebuilt themselves better than any country had, in your opinion.

It was a rather calm day with minimal people out and about. It was exactly what you guys deserved after every mission - in your case, after a long month of PR recovery after that bar fight alongside Sam.

“You bake, Barnes?”

He smiled fully, “Any chance I get.”

“You guys want anything?” Peter yelled out, bouncing lightly on his heels as he waited. You waved him off. “You sure? It’s pretty cheap for summer prices!”

After rejecting Peter’s dozen ice cream questions and offers, the three of you decided the heat was a little too much to bear, even with sunscreen. Peter spoke most of the way. Something about that banana bread.

Bucky, being the baker, helped him choose the best recipe of the four Peter had bookmarked and soon the kitchen was only half dirty with eggs and mashed bananas.

“What do you mean a cup of baking soda, kid? Use your eyes,” Bucky yelled in second hand embarrassment. “I don’t think a cup of baking soda goes in anything.”

“Read right here, dude,” Peter poked at his tablet. “A cuuuu... okay. Okay, I see what I read wrong.”

“You two better be making me some good ass banana bread today. I don’t want to throw up!” You had opted to let the two men have their fun in the kitchen. You tried to bake, but you were more of a cook than anything else.

“You could be reading out the directions.”

“I could do a lot of things,” you respond with the emphasis on “could”.

The doorbell interrupted your no-so-real argument. Peter snickered, “You could get the door.”

With a displeased grunt and a straightened middle finger to the kid, you opened the door to find two people who were definitely not invited. Clint, with this magical and massive smile on his face and Steve, with his eyebrow cocked and arms crossed.

“Oh, would you look at that. Guests! Welcome to our humble abode!”

“Now, how and why?” Bucky groaned. But his actions contradict his words as he went to give Steve a hug, covered in flour and all.

“Hey, Clint,” you mumbled, purposely ignoring the super soldier side-eyeing you. “Care to tell us what you’re doing here?

Clint returned your warm smile, “See, Cap? They’re safe. Can we go now?”

Steve rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest in a rather demanding way. “We’re here to take them home, Clint.”

Bucky scoffs.

“Eh, you might be. But I’m here to soak up some of this Spanish sun.” A low grunt sounded in the back of Clint’s throat as he spoke. He was already making his way to pick at the mashed ingredients.

“You heard the man, pal,” Bucky slaps Steve’s shoulder, leaving him at the door as well. Awkwardly left alone, you blow a small raspberry and step aside to let Steve in. Bucky continues, “We’re here to soak up some sun. And I’m not done soakin’.”

With great protest, Steve maneuvers Bucky away from the kitchen and into the hallway beside the master bedroom. With both super soldiers out of the way, you finally go to help Peter with mixing. “Why did he come, really?”

Clint shrugs, arms deep inside your cabinets and collecting whatever desserts you had pre-packaged. “Honestly? I think he missed you guys.”

“All this drama because he misses Bucky? He could have just shown up declaring truce and had a nice little vacation,” you mumbled, glaring at Steve from behind.

“Think he felt like he needed an excuse to even show up. But they really are asking for you guys back home. Threatened to arrest your ass.”

“Lucky me.”

You could make out snippets of their tiny argument up ahead.

‘You could have called.’

‘You haven’t been answering the phone, Buck.’

‘I’ve been relaxing.’

A heavy sigh.

‘I just thought we told each other everything.’

‘Believe it or not, Steve… but I’ve got more friends now. Isn’t that what you wanted? I’m not trying to ignore you, I - I just needed to help another friend out this time.’

Peter, with great care, washes his hands and makes sure there aren't any random mashes of banana on his clothing before he side-steps you and Clint to interrupt the very ‘private’ conversation between the super soldiers. “Hey, Mr. Steve- Cap, hey.”

Steve immediately lets his hard gaze falter. “Hey, kid. You doin’ good?”

Peter nods in response.

“He’s doing great! Much needed vacation that still isn’t over.”

“Buck.”

Inserting yourself may not have been the best option. “Give it up, Rogers. We’re on vacation. And until the kid says he’s ready to go home, we go home.”

Peter fumbles, “Oh, please don’t put me on the spot like that. I’m not good with confrontation.”

Bucky quickly answers before Steve can, “It’s not confrontation, Peter. We love being out here and if it’s helping your mental health, we’re not going to take that away from you.”

Steve blinks and his expression looks like one of hurt. “You think I wanna do that? The literal president has been asking for your location. You’re not allowed to leave the country.”

You shrug, “Well, no one told me that.”

“Buck, you were just granted immunity three months ago. And you go and drop off the face of the earth?”

“I’m literally in Spain.”

Steve blinks again. He really can’t believe he’s got to deal with two people with similar personalities. “Your point?”

“On Earth…?”

Clint decides to make his presence known. He has even inserted the poured batter into the glass tray for you guys. “Why don’t we just stay with ‘em, Cap? God knows you need a vacation, too.”

“We have two rooms. You’d be bunking on the floor,” you say, pointing to random areas on the floor.

Clint waves his hand in the air, “Not the worst place I’ve slept in.”

“I’m being hounded day and night to bring you three home.” Steve looks about ready to burst into tears of frustration.

“Turn off your phone?”

Steve whips his head and stomps to close the few feet of distance between the two of you. “You really think it’s that easy? You really think I wasn’t worried when my two best friends just disappeared one night and didn’t tell me?”

Two.

Best.

Friends.

Before you could even comment, Bucky puts on the dramatics. “We ran away together, Stevie. We meant to tell you.”

Steve takes a moment, just staring at the ceiling and piecing together his thoughts. “Joke all you want, Buck. I’m bringing you home.”

“Ste-”

“No!” He’s stomping back to the front door now. “I’ve had enough! I can’t stand not knowing where you guys are all day when bad things keep happening in this world. Just… just come home.”

All is quiet besides the quiet munching of Clint and his rogue cookie. Steve’s face did this thing when he was at war with himself, anxiety crawling up his arms or panic weighing his empty stomach down. His face drained color and that perfect renaissance oil lost its blush, blended paint that turned a murky gray. A masterpiece lost in storage.

“I can take the couch,” you whisper, arms erupting in goosebumps. “You guys can stay the night and we’ll go home tomorrow, okay? Or somewhere pre-approved, I guess.”

Bucky didn’t argue. Neither did Peter.

Steve's imaginary painter adds the softest pink back to Steve’s cheeks as you compile a mess of blankets and pillows for him.

Present Day, 2025, 7:15 am

There’s a warmth near you as you begin to lazily shuffle against the sheets, heavy on your chest but comfortable all in all.

There are no worries, no sudden bursts of Avenger business, no fights needing to be fought. Simply Steve warm against you with sunlight draping over his bare and freckled shoulders.

The serum enhanced for the sole purpose of strength and survival. And sure, it healed the body quicker than the average human body could naturally, but the one thing it couldn’t do was strip personality.

Steve had freckles splattered along his broad shoulders and down to in between his shoulder blades, light in color and all similar in size. Something a lot of people hated about themselves and tried to cover up while others tried to mimic. The serum was supposed to heal damaged skin, sunburnt areas, birthmarks, and even moles - at least, that’s what the official 1943 report had claimed.

But over the years, Steve had continued to age and grow into his new body. And while he couldn’t get dangerously sick anymore, anything unknown could still occur. No one had the same serum as Steve and last Tony had heard, Peggy had spilled the last remnants of Steve’s original DNA (blood they took before the procedure) in the Hudson. Bucky seemed to be experiencing the same natural changes as well.

It had been proven that neither Steve nor Bucky could carry or transmit diseases, experience abnormal cell production, nor could they develop a lifelong ailment without severe reason.

So imagine everyone’s surprise when Clint called one morning while deep in a routine mission (somewhere in Africa, you really don’t remember) to relay the news that, ‘you guys aren’t gonna fucking believe this - yeah Rogers, I’m telling them the hilarious news right now - Steve’s appendix just up and exploded last night - hey! He just stole - hold on. Give me back my hearing aid, you abelist fuck!’.

Steve had stretch marks on his back from the procedure, his elbow still hurt from time to time after he had snapped it a year ago, and the white scar above his right hip reminded him that even super soldiers are not exempt from the wonders of the appendix.

His breathing was slow and his eyelids flickered. Seemed he was enjoying his first deep sleep in a while. You craned your neck to try and read the cable box across the room, slightly making out a seven in the front before you gave up. You were due for your annual eye appointment, anyway.

Steve did have perfect eyesight though, so damn him.

You shrugged the sheets from your arms. He was on his stomach, cheek planted on your chest and right foot dangling off the side of the bed. His left arm was draped over your middle and his right was tucked inside a pillowcase. His hair draped over his forehead and some of it was still tucked behind his ears.

Careful to not wake him, you gently traced the ridge of his nose with your index finger, resting it on the tip that always turned bright pink regardless of mood. Once at the end, you went back up to trace it again.

“Beak,” you whispered more to yourself, and you bit your lip to suppress the overwhelming urge to giggle.

Steve was here, next to and near you, and he was so warm.

You could have stayed in bed for hours, sleeping and cuddling and fucking, and you would bet your left kidney that Steve wanted that too. It was impossible to question it, it had to be, because Steve was too genuine. You had met hundreds of men in your life: some the literal devil, some cowards, some reserved, and rarely, some genuine at heart. Steve fit some category that didn’t even exist.

You wanted to love him and hate him. You wanted to make love and fuck him. You wanted to kiss him and annoy him. He checked a box that didn’t exist but that you would just have to reserve for him. The annoying little shit who could lift Thor’s hammer.

The door almost ripped off its hinges by the brute force of someone’s leg. You didn’t even fully register being crushed by Steve until his elbow stabbed you right in the gut.

“Rogers!” you groaned in pain and half trying to reach for your pistol on the bedside table.

There was a collective gasp of surprise (and maybe terror) from the people that just broke down your door. After yesterday’s unplanned run-in with Ramirez, no doubt this was called-for.

“Oh, hell…” Sam grumbled, lowering his gun the second he realized two of his friends were sharing one bed. “Lemme guess, the other bed’s mattress was too firm but this one’s just right.”

Bucky stood behind him, a knowing smirk plastered on his smug face. He looked between you and Steve, ignoring the way Scott was practically pulling his shoulder down in pure fits of laughter. Didn’t take much for Scott to tip himself over and almost drag Bucky down with him.

“Couldn’t you knock?” Steve nearly yelled, body still trying to shield yours even though you were fully dressed. You were struggling to push him away in pure embarrassment, but he seemed intent with this form of protection.

“You weren’t answering your phone! We changed our check-in times to seven instead of eight, remember?”

Steve, ever the gentleman, brought the sheets up higher for you and finally lifted himself out of bed.

And Bucky, ever the gentleman who has been spending way too much time with Clint, nodded his head toward you. “You two fuck?”

Mouth dropping in humiliation, you pulled the sheets up over your head and screamed into the temporary cover. Steve sputtered over whatever explanation he was thinking of pulling out of his ass.

“You two fucked,” Bucky smugly confirmed.

Steve pulled on the nearest shirt and went to kick Scott, who was ‘criss-cross apple-sauced’ on the floor and laughing way too loudly. “Is it really any of your business?”

“Man, that’s an answer!” Sam was about to fall into the same fit as Scott.

Annoyed, and fueled by that annoyance, you ripped the sheets off and marched for the bathroom. “You really want to know, you nosy little fucks? We did fuck and he made me come three times. Ask him how, I’m sure he’ll teach you a thing or two, no matter how embarrassed he may seem right now.”

You left him alone. You literally just exposed him and you left him alone with the wolves.

All was quiet until Sam blew a small raspberry. “Three times?”

Bucky didn’t need to speak to show he was about to tease the hell out of you. He simply sipped his coffee until he emptied it, and then refilled it. You couldn’t even finish a single mug yet because you were waiting to break the tension.

Looking around the hotel bar because he still valued your privacy, Bucky made sure to keep his voice low. “Three times?”

Half wanting to slap the smirk off his face and the other half wanting to announce Steve’s naughty accomplishment, you settled for pouring more coffee into your mug.

“Don’t you dare hold what I said against me, I literally had just woken up.”

“Mm, yeah. I remember how you literally moaned Thor’s name when you were startled awake from a nap in the living room.”

“Bucky!” you yelled, turning your shoulders inwards when you received a few odd looks from other early risers. Well, some were early risers. The person closest to the door was an agent, as was the other eating breakfast at the bar. “You promised you would never mention that again!”

He shook his head with amusement, “I can’t believe you swore me to secrecy when Loki basically told everyone.”

“He-!” Choking on your own spit, you slid lower into your booth. “That mischievous, conniving, son of a bitch.”

“In all honesty, I think that was his way of flirting with you.”

“Telling everyone I had a wet dream about his brother?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be the first.”

You smirked, “Oh, trust me. I know.”

Bucky squinted, guilty in his spoken words. “All I’m saying is, it’s nice that you didn’t just write Steve off with us, as if nothing happened.”

It made your heart swell that even in a moment with you, Bucky would still always protect Steve.

“I would never. We actually talked last night and he really apologized.”

“Really?” His eyes were hopeful.

“He did. And as cliche as it sounds, one thing led to another.”

You realized your earlier words were contradictory when Bucky sighed sadly, “This better not have been a one time thing. I’ll strangle you both.”

You scoffed and finally took a piece of that blueberry muffin on your plate. “Screw you, Barnes. It’s Steve we’re talking about. I’d give him the world if I could.”

That made Bucky blush. “God, I’m stupidly happy for him. I always said he’d need to find a dame who had as big of a mouth as he does.”

Rolling your eyes, you offered him some of that muffin. He gladly broke off a piece. “Don’t go marrying us off just yet.”

“Doll, he almost imploded when we discovered you slept together. Teasing him about proposing might just kill him.”

You laughed at that. Although Steve had admitted he regretted the time you lost, there wasn’t any chance he would push you any further. He was probably comfortable with taking things slow, no matter the history. You had that in common.

“Seems we’re all just gonna have to make sure we don’t cause his demise.”

Smiling as he chewed, Bucky played with your feet under the table. Safe moments like these always occurred before a mission, no matter how simple or heavy they were. And like people love to say, you never fought with each other before. Just in case.

Going to bed angry was another thing entirely. That, the whole team was proficient in.

“You ready for tonight?”

Yesterday had definitely turned you against the very concept of family reunions, what with the small ache between your shoulders. You were angry with Seda, with Ernesto, disappointed with Ramirez, and neutral toward your sister.

God, your sister. This would be the first time since you left Mexico for school and SHIELD that you would be seeing her, as well as your other siblings. Jackeline was perhaps the only sibling you had some real memories with. Everyone else was already deep in the business or far away from the chaos. The team only knew of two other siblings who rsvp’d. The others: radio silence.

“Part of me just wants a normal family wedding. I’m kinda hoping we can just end it all tonight.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bucky chuckled, finishing off your muffin for you. “You’ll get some closure soon enough.”

There was no such thing as closure. Just less of a constant sting.

“Bucky,” you spoke seriously now. “My father made Steve sign something yesterday.”

“He told us at the debrief yesterday.”

“When did you have a debrief?”

Bucky scooted in his booth, quickly explaining. “Uh well, it wasn’t so much of a debrief as it was a simple overview. Just a heads up.”

You tilted your head, somewhat unconvinced. “Uh-huh… but we could void it, right? He had a fucking notary there and everything.”

“We can declare it void, yeah Y/N,” he grabbed your hand over the table. “He won’t get tangled in this.”

With a heavy sigh, you gripped Bucky’s hand tighter. “I’m really glad you guys are gonna help us.”

He returned your smile. “Anything for family.”

Family.

After all these years of self-hatred and despising your own blood, you blinded yourself of the simple truth that you already had a real family. Whether you were accepted after Sokovia, or after you helped Steve escape with Bucky, or after those long five years, you were accepted. And you accepted them right back.

The briefing goes as expected. Didn’t seem like anyone was going to live down the now obvious fact that you and Steve had slept together after years of unnoticed pining. You simply took the teasing in stride, better than Steve even, who stuffed his face full of chips in embarrassment.

The plan was simple but ever-evolving. The three of them will hang back: Bucky at the hotel, Scott and Sam at the nearby base with Torres. The base was fifteen minutes from the estate, hidden behind those same pine trees but the perfect cover - it was a nearby diner. Steve will still take the shield, FRIDAY was installed on your personal phones, and any weapons you attached to your person were specifically made to deter metal detectors. Once in, it was mingle, mingle, mingle.

There were going to be a thousand questions to answer: What in the world is Captain America doing here? Is he here to cause trouble? Are you two seriously dating? So, Captain America being one of us means holding Thor’s hammer was a myth, aye?

Then you would move on to the more important guests. Jackeline’s greeting would be more of a reunion. But flying under and over the radar had to walk the same line - you needed to mix in with the crowd and make sure they see you participating, but then escape for a little while to continue the mission.

Once in, the task was to electronically and physically retrieve everything Scott didn’t have time to yesterday, plus the new information Ernesto got for today and tomorrow. His latest emails, list of contacts, checks, birth certificates, video evidence.

“Do we all know our duties?”

You wanted to wrap up Steve’s commanding voice and keep it a special secret, a secret that was yours and the team’s to share.

“We got it, Cap. For the tenth time this week - you two okay?”

Sam was rewarded with a slanted smile. “Everytime you ask me that, I’ll lie.”

He nods, “At least you admit it. You’re not alone in this.”

“For years,” you continued, “It’s been that way. I guess I’m both ready for it to end and not. I want them behind bars. I don’t want the repercussions.”

“Makes sense,” Bucky agrees. “At least part of the fight will be over.”

Beside you, Steve clenches his jaw. “We’re always fighting.”

Bucky grins at him, “Yeah.” There’s a sparkle in his eye as he leans forward to squeeze Steve’s thigh. “At least it’s not with each other anymore.”

They weren’t lying when they said vibranium was lightweight. Felt different from nano-tech and was an obvious change from your regular body suit. You felt protected and stylish. Good, because even though you weren’t obligated to impress those vultures, there were still a few cousins and extended family members you wanted compliments from. And?

The black turtleneck was warmer than you expected and didn’t strangle you. You were a bundle of velvet bliss right now. The cuffs were a golden brown, completely made from vibranium. Modeling in the mirror, you whispered a few ‘pew-pew’s as you blocked pretend bullets. C’mon, golden bracelets? You were basically Wonder Woman.

The tights were your own, thin and black and you could still see there were faint bruises on your knees from training. Once all that was situated, you pulled on the long skirt and tucked in the bottom of your shirt, glad the way the high-waisted design sucked everything in. The skirt was the same golden brown as the cuffs, shorter in the front and wavy as it draped down the back, barely reaching your ankles. You tied the skirt’s belt in a tight bow and pulled on the black boots Shuri had also sent you. The heel was thick and short, and the boot was pretty tight around the top of your ankle.

Time was ticking on that well-deserved goody basket you were meaning to send to the royal siblings.

Hoop earrings, three rings dressing your left hand, a simple golden necklace - now you need to do your hair and make-up.

Steve was just patiently waiting for his turn in the bathroom, bless his heart.

“Scott said the files are in his personal belongings. We suspect he’s planning to smuggle over fifty people tomorrow. Their records should be hidden away in those belongings, too.”

Sam always kept a leveled head in dire situations like these. He was rational and helpful, always waited until the job was done and everyone was safe before he had a drink or a cry. It was safest, perhaps the most fair thing the Avengers could do for the public after destroying half the cities they fought in. The media didn’t need to know about the late-night fights, alcohol poisoning, or frequent therapy sessions. Your coping methods were all different - Steve has no doubt Sam will immediately pack an overnight bag and Bucky to visit his sister and nephews once the wedding concluded.

Steve? Well, Steve was surprisingly calm, all things considered.

“You get any hits yet? Anything from Ramirez that could help us find those people sooner?”

Sam sighs sadly, shaking his head. “It’s looking like we’re heading into a full-on fight.”

That’s not what Steve wanted to hear. A ‘full-on’ fight almost always had accidents, misfires, innocent casualties, and a few cuts and scrapes to add to his own personal collection.

“Sam,” Steve puts down the files in his hand and shuts off his monitor to signal he’s done researching for the night. “I really don’t know how to thank you.”

“You know,” Sam smiles at him, “I’m gettin’ real tired hearin’ you say that.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. Sam gently exhales - Steve can feel it.

“You two really are the same.” Sam points at Steve and to the bathroom door. “Always apologizing for shit you can’t control.”

Steve looks down to his feet, a blush in his pale cheeks. After failing to clip his cufflinks on his own, he holds his arms out to Sam who happily clips them for him.

“Is it real?”

Steve pauses. He doesn’t really need to think about it because he knows. He’s known for a while even if he was on autopilot. The pause only serves to help him catch his breath from the happy prickle that crawls up his spine. “As real as second chances go.”

Sam laughs and claps his shoulder, “I get it. We seem to get a hell of a lotta those.”

Now that the mission was truly kicking into gear, fucking full speed ahead, Steve had no other choice but to pull shreds of Captain America from that metaphorical attic of his. Took everything in him to revert back, never fully, and each time would be different from the last. Sometimes it was mentally draining being responsible for a whole team and creating the plans, other times he regretfully felt like a colonizer, an intruder who followed orders from the top and was forced to execute them. This time around, he was stepping into uncharted territory, but still familiar, and he had a million roles to mime.

“Steeeve.”

His smile was instant and he gravitated to your voice. “Hmm?”

“So, I have an idea for a hairstyle,” you reply, throwing open the bathroom door with a brush in one hand and the other holding the top layers of your hair up. “I got enough hair for it.”

“Tell me about it. It gets in the way of everything.”

“Haha.” You rolled your eyes, still trying to shovel more hair higher. “I curled it, so all I gotta do is tug this upper half up into a ponytail while the rest stays down. But can you help? My shoulders still hurt and I haven’t taken my advil yet.”

Steve shuffles back into the room to grab you two pills before he replaces his hands with yours. “So, just lift it up?”

You hum confirmation, watching Steve in the mirror as he pulled your thick curls higher, snapped the hair tie between his teeth, and tied it all. He pulled the strands outward so the high curls still fell around your face. The hairstyle would have been easier with extensions (for a much fuller look) but if you had to throw your body around these next two days, you’d rather save yourself the embarrassment of having them pulled off.

“Thank you,” you blush. These moments were so intimate, so sweet, just you and Steve. “You need any help?”

Steve looks down at himself. He had already tied his own tie. He could style his own hair and comb his beard. “I think I’m good. Forgot to pack cologne, though.”

“I’ve got some perfume in my suitcase. There should be one in there that isn’t too flowery.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns to leave. “Not really a problem, doll.”

Pulling on his suit jacket and reaching for your suitcase to set it on the bed, he miscalculated the balance he was so obviously lacking. Instead of toppling head first himself, he fumbles your suitcase and spills its contents on your bed. He stills for a second, looking to the closed bathroom door to see if you popped your head through to ask what the hell that sound was. But it remained closed, and Steve silently groaned because of his clumsiness.

He tries his best to roll the clothing items back in, cursing whenever he would accidentally squeeze a perfume bottle you had hidden in there. He counted three. The one he picks smells like roses.

Amongst the ruins he finds your passport, multiple IDs, and two pairs of sunglasses. He chuckles to himself and thinks, we’ve been here for four days and she hasn’t worn these once.

A torn piece of paper stood out from the pile, folded neatly in its own envelope but still damaged.

CLINT

Curious, Steve opens the envelope, wholeheartedly expecting to find the written contents from the archer himself, but pauses when he reads the simple sentence, in your handwriting.

‘After careful deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I want you to have all my video games.’

If Steve didn’t know any better, and judging by the multiple other letters peeking through the torn tape from the corner of your suitcase, it sounded like a goodbye letter.

“What’s taking so long?”

Startled, Steve shoves the letter under the pile of clothes. “Uh, my clumsy ass spilled your clothes everywhere so I’m being good and fixing everything.”

“...annoying.”

Still, you stayed inside the bathroom.

He glanced back just to make sure. And he knew he shouldn’t be snooping, the guilt was already eating away at him, but he now noticed the lump under the torn tape and another envelope poking through.

They were all signed for different people. Bucky, Wanda, Peter, Rhodey -

The devil on his shoulder drowned the cries of the angel.

Opening his, he prays for his quick reading skills to aid him before you realized what he was doing.

Steve,

Believe when I say that I thought I would put a bullet in my father before he could. Whoops…

I don’t really know why I’m writing these letters besides the thrill of morbidity for my untimely death or because I’m an amateur writer on the side. I never know what to say to you, anyway. Whether it’s in person or on paper. I’ve got a hundred drawn-up speeches in my head I almost say to you. But they don’t come out when I want them to and it seems a bit much to write out the words to several imaginary crumpled pieces of paper.

This will have to do.

Steve, I know for a fact, deep in whatever soul I have left, that you are a good man.

When the world fell apart, I held on to you. I don’t know why. Natasha bugged me about it, sent me those signature smirks of hers whenever we did anything remotely weird. She believed something was going on between us and I would get so angry with her because it was like she saw something I couldn’t. And I wanted to see it. Wrap it up for myself and live in the softness.

You slept by my side when I would ask, you let me look through your private sketchbook to help ease my mind, and you would jump at every chance to shield me from danger. Even when you know I can take care of myself. I don't know how many times I have to remind you.

I don’t understand why you shut me out after we brought our friends back. And at the time, it hurt like hell. I literally wanted to kill you and then myself. It made no sense, it still doesn’t. I won’t lie and say it still surprises me or that it no longer hurts. ‘Cause I’m numb to it now and the pain is more of a dull ache.

But I guess you had your reasons, no matter how hurtful, how ridiculous, no matter how stupid.

Fuck, why didn’t you get some of that life Tony had always wanted for you? The question eats me alive. Maybe you did move on, maybe you would miss us too much, I truly don’t know. When you confessed to wanting some form of that life when we rescued Wanda, it just confused me more.

Then my father basically declared war and you cut me out. I can’t help but think you stayed behind to help me finish this, what with that righteous streak of yours, but if it is the case, then I am so sorry.

You deserve to live, Steve.

Guess what I really want to close with is this: find that life you always wanted. Buy a boat, or a cabin in the secluded woods and become a lumberjack, travel, open your own art museum - hell, erase all traces of your identity and sell painted landscapes for a living.

In any form you find it, just try. You know I’m always rooting for you, and I’m always by your side. No matter how annoying and smart-mouthed you may be.

There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be than here, there, and everywhere with you.

With as much love in me,

The swirl of your name leaves him disoriented, and slightly paralyzed. Steve licks the envelope closed.

Steve puts the very existence and contents of your letter to the back of his mind for the time being. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, no time to dissect it word for word. He’ll focus on it later. He still doesn’t know what reaction he should be experiencing. The letter was unexpected, yes, but it’s the matter of you writing a goodbye letter - as if you weren’t going to make it out of here alive. And that about saws Steve in two.

Steve thinks the elevator comes too fast and wonders what he could do to stop time. The mics on your neck generate enough noise for you to hear the static on the other end. No one is currently online, and Steve cherishes the little moments he’s getting before having to transition into ‘Captain America’ mode.

There wasn’t much time today to truly bask in the afterglow. The moment the elevator opens Steve literally drags you inside and captures your lips in a rather chaste kiss. It surprises you momentarily but you’re responding, and it’s fluid and familiar. The kiss is brief, but it feels as if your years mold into this single act, and Steve’s smiling wider than he has today when the first thing you say as you part is that maybe you chose the wrong shade of lipstick because it looks too damn dark on his lips.

The elevator reaches the ground floor and he looks over at you one last time in the privacy you’re afforded. He’s got that good ache in his chest again and it’s both calming and a little bittersweet, because staring at you is like staring at the sun - it hurts to look at for a long time but oh, so tempting.

The lawn was separated into two halves with only one fully decorated and the other still under a tarp, hidden because it was mid-construction and to not spoil the surprise. Over to the side, just left of the large lake, there was an extra tarp the workers were manning in case the clouds in the sky decided to cry.

Jackeline had chosen violet as her main color scheme, with golden hues stitched alongside. The flowers, soft lights, marble floor, and desserts were all violet; the curtains and tarps, plates and glasses, flowers on the wall, and Jackeline’s rehearsal dress were all gold. Ernesto must have spent over a million dollars in the decorations alone.

Everyone donned their best designers and since only family was in attendance today, the little amount of people were easily outdone one right after the other. In total, there were fifteen guests, and that included you and Steve: Ernesto, Seda, the groom’s father, Jackeline’s mother, two of your half-brothers, three aunts (sister’s of Ernesto), two cousins, the maid of honor, and Marcus White.

They have already fawned over Steve, some with a major guard up as expected, but as Ernesto explains the specifics, everyone becomes more pleased than weary. ‘It was just too good to be true that the Avengers were all good’, someone announces. Steve grips your hand just a little tighter.

The mere absence of Ramirez was enough of an answer: he really was going to be eliminated.

Across from your private corner, cheers and claps sound as the happy couple finally emerges. Even your father leaves mid-conversation to go greet her.

She’s a fifties masterpiece. Her dark hair cascades in uneven but gentle layers, framing her face and she’s both glossy and matte. Her skin is darker and her eyebrows are fuller, widow’ peak and strong jaw, thin neck and perfectly rounded shoulders. She has a painted blush on her high cheekbones, dark eyeshadow and a faint cat eye, and the reddest, fullest lips that are already spitting wit as she greets her more serious guests. Her voice is high but steady and she’s so obviously the center of attention, she’s the literal bride, but you bet she could take over the room even if she wasn’t. Her fiancé, surprisingly enough, trails behind her as if he too is in a trance, greeting the same guests and attempting to match her enthusiasm. She’s making herself known, and she’s succeeding.

It isn’t until she locks her sight on you that Steve finally mumbles a quiet ‘woah’ underneath a shaky breath and you can’t blame him, dear god you can’t, because seeing her for the first time in six years is eating away at you. She’s nineteen, young and sweet, and still trapped in the world you were planning to destroy.

Her first reaction is to run into your arms and hold you tightly, the force swinging you from side to side. Her giggles are contagious and you find yourself reacting similarly, grip tightening as she begins to ramble about how much she missed you and how proud she is that you have saved the world ten times over. The statement is overwhelming, but you find yourself nodding along in place of anything verbal.

Steve is patient as he witnesses this family reunion, standing at your side with respect and a tint of scarlet staining his cheeks. Finally, Jackeline turns to greet him and for a scary second, Steve sees Peggy.

“No way!” She keeps her voice low. “I could have sworn my bit-... uh, my bunch of tias were lying about you really being here.”

Steve shakes the fifties image from his head. The resemblance, even if Jackeline has more slanted eyes and a larger forehead, is uncanny. “Thank you so much for inviting us. The ride up was a bitch but we made the most of it.”

Jackeline stutters over her own laugh. “Oh.” She looks to you with a wide grin. “Oh, he’s a keeper.”

“Thought so myself,” you grin back. “You should hear him swear during a football game.”

“All men turn into animals when their teams don’t live up to expectations.”

Her accent is thicker than yours. Living in New York for over 10 years definitely helped smooth over some dialect and create your own voice. But Jackeline’s, considering she had never lived outside of Mexico, was thick and silky and resembled a place you no longer called home.

She pulls the man behind her forward, effectively interrupting and ending the conversation he was having with one of your cousins. “This is Julian. Julian, this is my one and only sister and her boyfriend!”

Julian, bless his heart, holds out a slightly shaking hand for you to shake. You do so, and try to convey calmness through it. When you watch his glance fall to Steve and feel his hand start to shake yours more rapidly, you can’t help but stifle a laugh.

“It’s an honor!” Julian finally says, voice deep and wracked with some nerves. He shakes Steve’s hand when he gets the chance. “Captain.”

“Please,” Jackeline rolls her eyes. “He’s just like us! You should be swooning over my sister, who is probably going to be the one to kill you if you ever hurt me.”

Julian blinks. His eyes go from Steve to you, contemplating his next move without wanting to seem rude. He nods in your direction. “I don’t doubt you would. Excuse me if I came off as rude. I’m just starstruck by this one here, is all.”

His accent matches Jackeline’s.

Steve waves his hand through the air. “You are not the first tonight, son.”

Sometimes you forget that Steve is an old man. Biologically, he’s in his mid-thirties. Ever changing and growing old as normal, but his soul is old. From a different time and out of it. The mere nickname he just gave Julian, no doubt because of his young age, leaves you averting your eyes and turning away to smile up at one of the many golden chandeliers.

“I really hope you enjoy tonight. The party may seem small right now, but trust me, half of Mexico will be dancing with us tomorrow night.” Jackeline bounces in place, hand intertwining with Julian’s, and she leans in to speak more clearly with you. “Meet me later? We have so much to catch up on.”

Agreeing, you watch the happy couple leave to converse with the few other guests.

Steve turns toward you, eyes squinted in amusement. “Is she really cheating on him with a man of the cloth?”

You can’t help the involuntary snort that leaves your nose. “The photos were watermarked, right? Time stamped? Maybe they’re old.”

Steve huffs a laugh and grabs two champagne glasses as the tray flies by him. “She’s got a way about her. Reminds me of a dame from this book I read a while back.”

Sipping your drink, you ponder. “What book?”

“The one where the dude gets shot at the end.”

“Oh, you mean every book from the 20th century?”

Steve laughs, “That twenties one!”

Mouth dropping, you push at his chest and turn to walk away. “You did not just compare her to Daisy from The Great Gatsby!”

Steve follows. “That’s the one! Honest! She has this way about her!”

It’s not long after a few dances and photographs that you’re all seated for the actual dinner. There are three long tables, two parallel to each other and the main one perpendicular. You don’t know if it’s a power move or whatever, but your name cards are placed on one of the parallel tables. But it doesn’t bother you much since you have a front view of Seda and your father.

Dinner is a six-course meal. Not that you assumed any different - Ernesto really went all out for his youngest child (that you know of). Your mics are picking up conversations left and right so you’re actually able to enjoy the meal. Salad, soup, a weird looking appetizer that’s actually quite delicious, the main course of either chicken/fish/or steak, and two desserts. All throughout, Steve is actually having the time of his life being fed so well.

“Answer me this,” Steve leans in to whisper in your ear. “Are those hearts or paper airplanes hanging from the ceiling?”

You smiled against the ridge of your champagne glass, “You mean those clay flowers?”

“Is that what they are?” He pauses for a long second, squinting.

“Are your eyes going bad?”

“Eyes don’t go bad.”

Your mouth falls open. “Your eyes are going bad!”

“Again,” Steve holds up a finger. “My eyes are just fine, not bad.”

Something else to add to that list you had made in the morning.

“This is fucking fantastic.”

Steve, still trying to casually squint, huffs. “Annoying...”

You bump his shoulder and lean in to whisper quietly. “Turns you on.”

Steve just blushes.

It’s like he forgets where he is for a second, what with the great food and surprisingly good conversation with one of your brothers beside him. Steve’s already built a much stronger rapport with the thirty-something year old man than you have. There’s a stab of guilt for a second, a need to duck and drown in shame, when you realize you can’t even remember his name.

Ernesto stands to announce toasts. His is brief and not all that fatherly, but it’s the longest you’ve heard him string some nice words together. Seda follows, brief as well, and includes a childhood anecdote about her. Jackeline’s mother is a young woman, somewhere between forty and fifty, and her toast is only a sentence long - ‘Solo quiero que estas contenta, mi amor.’ For the first time tonight, Bucky voices his thoughts over the mic with a quiet and sad sounding hum.

Ernesto lifts himself from his chair, swatting away his men who go to help him. He has the microphone again and he’s walking toward you, face neutral. You know better than to refuse in front of this big of a crowd. Steve squeezes your hand before you stand and he remains beaming up at you from his seat.

You’ve seen it in the movies - raise the glass, say some words, end it nicely. It’s what you do. But it feels surreal, almost unnerving when you don’t recognize the faces looking back at you.

“Here’s to you,” you lift your champagne glass, looking around at the happy yet solemn faces at the small table.

“You deserve all the happiness available to you. You are so lucky to have each other,” you finish the toast and drink your whole glass. There is no applause, just sad smiles in response. You’re not asking for much, you never had.

Tony and Pepper share a quick kiss, thanking everyone around the table quickly as the two cakes are being cut. Their wedding was limited, with only a few people in attendance. Whoever was left. Tony’s cabin could obviously accommodate more people, but he had only requested the gathering of those he could stomach to see. But when that turned out to only be Pepper and Happy, he was forced to open the doors to more.

So, you accepted your chocolate cake from Rhodey as he handed it to you. Shared some quick chit-chat with Steve and Natasha; greeted Thor as he made his first appearance in a while, hair now longer and baggy clothes hanging from his body, a tortured smile on his aging face; and sat through Happy’s own speech, enjoying his refreshing and joyful attitude.

But now you stood in front of the kitchen sink, staring at the hidden picture frame behind the mugs - a reminder of what was really missing from this special day.

You studied Peter’s awkward smile and demeanor, his expression youthful and frozen in time. He became foggy, silver clouds blotting his cheeks and his hair went white, and soon the sink sounded with a tiny ‘clunk!’ as you wept silently.

You felt a hand slide into your own, squeezing with care and understanding. You looked up to see Steve, his eyes watching your face. He gave you one more gentle squeeze, the same tortured smile as Thor’s on his beautiful face, and walked to his room to retire for the night.

Glass raised in the air, you swallow in hopes of not choking over any word because of your nerves.

“Here’s to you,” you start, already deciding this was going to be like pulling a band-aid. “May this world treat you kind, and that you are kind to each other, and that it’s all that matters.”

Steve forgets to drink. He can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting to cry.

Everyone watches as Steve leads you onto the dance floor which is intimidating with its glittering violet light and marble that resembles polished glass. If these were the decorations for the rehearsal dinner, Steve can’t even begin to bet on how tomorrow’s going to look.

Steve holds you close, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other framing your spine. It’s like a tight hug. “Do you enjoy dancing?”

You step on his foot once again. “Shut up, Steve. Tell me your real thoughts.”

“Who, me?”

“Steve.”

“You suck at dancing.”

“There it is.”

It isn’t hard to sneak away once everyone piles onto the dance floor. Steve shares a few dances with your aunts before excusing himself to use the bathroom.

The mission itself goes rather smoothly. Infiltrating and collecting information was childsplay. Amateur. You’ve done it a thousand times and your father isn’t exactly a tech wizard. Neither is Seda.

You find the electronic bank records Scott couldn’t yesterday, as well as a detailed spreadsheet (more like a hitlist) dating ten years back. In the same file, this actually only slightly encrypted (slightly), are the names of high-level players involved. It’s color-coded, some names familiar because of their involvement with Hydra, and it’s only a matter of seconds before you notice that red means eliminated, black means still at large, and blue means ally.

There’s a lump in your throat as you scroll through and find Steve’s name, thankfully in blue. It’s expected, so you simply move on, until you find yours. And it’s in black.

It should terrify you, have you running for the hills and tucking your tail between your legs but you’re won’t because Steve’s name is blue.

That’s all that matters.

There’s still no concrete information about the shipment, nothing online or on a loose post-it note. It’s non-existent and that’s suspicious and you don’t know why you don’t voice that to Steve. He’s listening at the door and responding to Sam’s questions. You and Scott are the hackers of the group after all.

You scan through drawers and cabinets, snapping photos of things you can’t take just yet and filing the papers you can. Papers detailing contracts and miscellaneous connections: lawyers, doctors, politicians, police. Once that’s done, you shrink the evidence to the size of a fingernail with the help of Scott’s tech and hide it in your bra.

Surprisingly enough, the two of you are able to slip out of the office and the first couple living rooms undetected. Until Jackeline herself appears, pulling down her dress as she exits the bathroom. Steve, stunned by the presence of anyone, pulls you toward his chest with unfocused strength. You hiss loudly and naturally go to cup your injured elbow. It takes a moment for Steve to realize what he’s done and who he’s done it to.

Jackeline nearly stumbles over her heels out of pure clumsiness but her mouth parts as she notices you and the harsh sound you make. If she truly saw or heard anything, she’s keeping it to herself it seems.

“Ernesto wanted to see me before we called it a night,” Steve says, letting go of your arm and taking a step back. He doesn’t outright say he’s sorry; he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. So he braves a smile, sends you a look, and excuses himself.

No conversation ever comes naturally - or, rather they take at least minimal effort from either party. You say the first thing you can think of and that’s to congratulate her again.

Your rambling sort of sounds like the toast you gave earlier, but Jackeline either doesn’t want to embarrass you or simply doesn’t notice. She waits for the pause in your voice before she finally speaks.

“Before I start, don’t hate me for this.”

“That’s not a good way to start a sente-” Your face is smacked to the side absurdly hard and you can feel the sting at the base of your neck. You look back at your sister with wide eyes.

“You couldn’t leave the world dead? He was finally dead!”

Baffled, you rub at your sore cheek. “Why am I the one getting the most blame for that? I followed a fucking raccoon around and I didn’t even snap my fingers!”

“Sorry,” she blinks, eyebrows scrunching as she thinks of the next thing to say. “Sorry, I just… it was that easy to kill him and then he just… wasn’t.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but you were also dead.”

“I was.”

“And we brought back trillions.”

“I know.”

Never once did you wonder what your siblings might have thought. More than half of them were separated from this life, while a few remained and conquered their allowed sectors. Ernesto had never discussed which of his children would take over his seat. But when he was dusted and Seda assumed power, it was clear not one sibling wanted anything to do with it. Or they were just too scared to outright disobey Seda and his tyranny.

Jackeline stands tall, shoulders straight and chin held high. She didn’t seem to worry about the repercussions of her actions - she knows who you are and what you are capable of. The smack seemed deliberate but restrained.

“So?” It’s the only word you can muster up.

“Please don’t judge me.” Her confidence falters and her eyebrows push down even further. “I know you know.”

“You gotta spell it out because I know a lot of things.”

Sighing deeply, she grabs the hand you’re using to rub at your cheek. She grips it tightly as she speaks. “I love him. But he’s impossible to love now and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Oh, Jackeline…”

You could have contacted her. You were on social media - you could have followed her, maybe messaged her annually - hell, called her once in a while to simply check in. The ticket you got was always a temporary one: go to school and find a way to make the trade routes easier to travel. School finished, you found Fury, and you created an alternate identity and background plan to trick your family into doing just what they ordered. And during all that time, Jackeline was barely in her pre-teens, probably scared and alone and missing her only sister. This was just you throwing that smack out of proportion but there was truth in it all. Wasn’t there?

“Julian’s okay. I agreed to this arranged marriage. I’m sure I can grow to love him,” she shrugs, biting her lip as it begins to quiver.

Her eyes are no longer happy - perhaps that was the wrong word to use after she had just confided in you about the reality of her upcoming union. But they definitely seem more dull in comparison to the joyfulness she presented earlier tonight.

“Jackeline, you don’t have to-”

“No, I was gone those five years. He had to move on.” You drop your shoulders and lean forward to give her a hug. No matter how badly you wanted to wrap your hands around Ernesto’s neck, they had more use tenderly wrapped around your sister.

Relishing the feeling for only a moment longer, Jackeline is ignited once again. “Besides, I should be telling you that! I saw the way that… that fascist pulled you. If he’s hurting you, I’ll kill him.”

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head. “Oh.”

She looks at you as if you’re going to admit abuse and confide in her like she did you. “No, it’s okay. Steve’s perfect, he’s… wonderful.”

Jackeline shakes her head rapidly, “Don’t you lie to me. I know what I saw.”

“I’m not lying. But you gotta trust me. I’ll explain later-”

“Explain what?”

Seda breaks the conversation and you forget to curse inwardly. Instead, a mumbled ‘fuck’ is heard. It only serves to fuel the flame. Jackeline flashes a rehearsed smile, and she truly is your sister because for a sad moment she looks exactly like you.

“Explain why she never returned my calls to be my maid of honor! I swear, this one is always so busy she forgets I exist!”

“She is,” Seda agrees, grinning like he already knows what the original conversation was about. “Always busy.”

Jackeline keeps the same smile and is about to continue fanning the flames when Seda interrupts again. “Jackie, your father wanted me to speak with your sister alone for a moment. It has to do with tomorrow’s shipment.”

“Yes, of course. Don’t keep her for too long, okay? Tomorrow’s a late start but we all need our beauty sleep.” Jackeline leaves and fails to look over her shoulder to double check on you.

Seda steps closer, arms swinging casually like he’s pondering the possibilities of what he could do without Steve present. But instead of focusing solely on him, you listen to the soft sound of Bucky’s voice through the mic as he tells you that he’s listening in and he’s here.

“What did she say to you?”

“Is it really any of your business?”

He snaps immediately, gripping your cheeks in one hand so you can’t move your head. “When will you learn to keep your goddamn mouth shut around me?”

“You asked.” Smacking his hand away would have been frowned upon before, but not anymore. Free reign if need be. “Besides, when will you learn that that will never happen?”

“You can’t believe anything she tells you. Ernesto’s only two daughters are mistakes, both threats to his reign. Never submissive, always asking questions-”

You grunt almost comically, “Men and their irrational fears of women… What did I ever do to you?”

He pauses and you notice how his angry eyes always seem to water from his frustration. “You brought him back.”

“I also brought back trillions.”

“You know,” his face does something unpleasant. “Before Jackeline was dusted, she had been seeing that priest.”

“How could you possibly know-”

“He was so devastated by her loss. Found God, became a changed man.”

“Seda, what are you playing at?”

“She came back.” He lifts one finger. “He couldn’t resist.” He raises another. “Didn’t take long for Ernesto to find out.” The third one is the last, and he mimics a small explosion as he concludes. “But don’t worry, we took care of him.”

You never once believed the Devil was this angry, red demon with horns atop his head and a sharp tail, voice booming as he ruled the underworld with the weapons of pain and suffering. He didn’t possess or haunt random places. If anything, the Devil himself was simply a metaphor, a representation of the evil in a living world. It only made people comfortable to create an image, no matter how ridiculous.

Once you even thought the Devil was Hades, and he wasn’t all that bad when it truly came down to the root of all problems. He oversaw the underworld but he didn’t take life, he didn’t cause the pain, he simply watched and ruled. That maybe Hades was real considering Thor was, and he was just chilling in the underworld bored out of his mind.

But the evil the Devil represented was a constant in this world already, in your life from start to finish, and Seda’s eyes held something unspeakable. Dark brown eyes almost black, left cheek twitching with the urge to smile grotesquely, the tense nature of his broad shoulders. He was no massive man, a few inches taller than you, but he was a giant in a world in which Hades lacked and the Devil persisted.

“But Julian-”

Seda scoffs, “Julian was her rebound. Got mixed up in the business, with Ernesto - but I don’t doubt he loves Jackeline.”

You’re this close to breaking the man’s fingers. He doesn’t stop counting his supposed triumphs. “When were the pictures taken?”

“Don’t do that,” he laughs as he finally steps away from you. “Ask your real question.”

Your smile was involuntary. So was Seda’s. It was the one thing you had in common: smiling at things that weren’t funny. “Did you threaten him? Torture him? Kill him yet?”

“... Jackeline will never know.”

Your mouth parts slowly like you’re still digesting his words. “You unimaginable bastard.”

If you had to bet, you would have placed all your money on Ernesto being the giant to fear. He had hurt you in countless ways, used you and discarded what he didn’t like, put you in the line of fire for his own gain. He had taken pleasure in knowing you hurt, in knowing what you had lost and suffered. He mocked your sacrifice time and time again. And there was a sentence you had never uttered out loud for fear of what you might do, or what anyone hearing you might do, that Ernesto had said one chilly November night only a year after the world returned. It was a thought so suppressed you almost always forgot it had been real. ‘A shame the Widow did what she did - what an unbelievable asset wasted over something pointless.’

No one outside your circle could possibly understand. They didn’t have to - but to dismiss the main reason he was retaking his tainted throne... insanity.

But something in Seda’s voice moved even the most dormant areas in your soul. The giant was a man with nothing and everything to lose but with the power to choose which. Staring at him for too long prompted an uncomfortable sting across your waterline like his glare burned. Such a normal looking man with short dark hair and an aging face. He stared at you with a set look, one that told you he knew something you didn’t. Like he controlled giants even bigger than him. He wasn’t Hades, who restrained himself and hid in the shadows of a world he was forced to rule - he was the Devil’s metaphor, with red strains licking his tan skin and eyes sharp enough to puncture.

With a small tilt of his head and a strangled grin, he finally turns to leave. “Have a safe drive home.”

After saying a quick goodbye to Jackeline and securing the estate, you hurried to get to your car and leave. Ernesto had just sent you a quick nod of the head and reminded Steve he needed to see him again before the wedding started. All your leftover energy literally went into pulling open the passenger door.

Out of instinct now, you wait until the car is past the gates and a good mile from the hidden entrance before speaking freely.

“We get everything?”

The night is dark and you can barely see the outline of the trees. The sky is covered with gray clouds and there are no lampposts to provide light. It’s really just your headlights. “I think so. I think.”

Steve can sense the hesitancy in your answer. “What’s wrong?”

You shake with an exaggerated shiver, “Seda was being creepy… just more than usual.”

“What do you mean?” Steve was probably communicating and online with Sam during his conversation with Ernesto and completely missed the one you had with Seda.

“Fuckin’ didn’t think it could get weirder, but Jackeline mentioned how this was basically an arranged marriage and then Seda,” you stop suddenly. The uneasiness was creeping back.

“An arranged marriage? Fuck, what else is this mission going to throw at us?”

‘Captain?’

Steve’s hands accidentally swerve the steering wheel as response to the small fright. “... Was that your phone or mine?”

You fumbled through your mini purse for your phone. “Me. Hey? Friday?”

‘The one and only. I hope that didn’t frighten you because I really need your attention right about now.’

Steve chuckles, eyes straight ahead as he drives. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

‘My readings are picking up something strange. The vehicle, even if I’m not able to virtually connect, seems to be stalling.’ Torres did curse you two before you left for renting a car made before 2013.

“What do you mean? It’s working just fine.”

You set your phone down on the dash to start looking around the interior of the car.

‘The pedal, yes Captain. But I’m afraid my readings are focused on the brakes.’

You bite your tongue and scrunch up your nose. What else could possibly happen tonight? “That’s always fun to hear, great. Greaaaat.”

“Friday, what are you picking up?” Steve’s voice is more stern and even if he’s not doing it on purpose, he’s trying to ignore your coping mechanism of joking during dire situations.

‘It seems that when they took the vehicle for parking, they attached something to the brake lines. Sort of like a trigger sensor. Do not slow down.’

“We’re stuck? We can’t stop?”

‘Everytime the Captain de-accelerates, the sensor heats up. That’s what my readings are.’

“Fuck,” you unclipped your seatbelt and turned your body toward Steve. “Fuck!”

“Friday, what do we do?” The least Steve could do is be the level-headed one here.

‘Exactly what you’re thinking, Captain. The shield’s in the trunk.’

“We can’t exactly get to it!” You don’t mean to scream at Friday. You’re sure she’s used to adrenaline induced attacks guided toward her and never about her.

‘The burners were produced by Stark Industries for our very own spy unit. They are equipped with a taser, flashlight, and laser.’

Jumping so your feet were planted firmly on the passenger seat, you make sure everything is in place: the stolen files, your gun, your phone, and earpiece. “Keep your foot on that pedal, Rogers. I don’t feel like blowing up tonight.”

He releases a shaky breath, hands turning pale from the grip he has on the steering wheel. “You and me both.”

“Friday?” Your voice is only slightly timid, but you manage to move your body out from the front seats and to the back.

‘The laser, Agent Y/LN. Cut through the seats.’

Nodding along to her instructions, you search for the burner under your skirt and unstrap it from the holster. Pulling its ancient antenna outward, Friday verbally guides you through the very simple instruction. The laser blasts out unexpectedly at first making you squeal, which in turn causes Friday (a literal AI) to chuckle. You’re thankful the antenna was facing the back seats already.

“Doing good back there?”

You respond with a low grunt as you carefully carve out the largest rectangle you can create. “You better have shoved the thing close. Any stop signs up ahead?”

Steve’s getting worried now, but instead of putting you more on edge, he hides it pretty well. “Thank god this place is in the middle of nowhere.”

You don’t even give his response acknowledgement as you finally pull the leather, metal, and weird cushion filling away and spot the shield. “I got it, got it, got it.”

‘My sensors suggest you’ll have a good five seconds to escape the vehicle once the Captain releases the pedal.’

You make sure your hair is in the tightest ponytail known to man and that your skirt is bunched up in your free arm. You strap the shield onto the other. “Steve, you gonna be alright?”

His eyes are still focused on the road, but he braves a look in the mirror back at you. His voice is stern but not demanding. “I know you hate the damn shield but bend your legs, jump sideways, and tuck your head.”

“Yeah,” you nod along. Damn straight you’ll put your hate aside for one second if it’s here to save your life. “You better jump on time, you understand me?”

“Sam,” Steve keeps the speed steady and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding from the sound of you kicking open the back door. “Sam, Widow. Widow.”

Before you jump, the asphalt a never ending, rapid glare of absolute darkness, you leave your phone on the seat in case Steve still needs her. “Friday, send Sam and Torres our location. They’re the only ones who can fly in undetected. Tell them what you told us.”

‘Will do, Agent Y/LN.’

“Be careful.”

You smirk at him, “Don’t be a hero and crash this one into the ice, yeah?”

You don’t wait for his reaction and instead take the plunge. The shield makes a hard impact with the asphalt down below, screeching for what seems like an eternity before slowing down. You did as instructed: knees tucked into your chest as far as you were able, head doing the same. By the time the ride finally ends and you’ve gone partially deaf, you can make out the sound of a loud explosion a close distance away. The heat from the sudden burst of wind nips at your face. You’ve also gone partially blind.

Your poor boots are definitely ruined and there’s a faint tell of a bruised ankle in the works. The arm attached to the shield will also need to be popped back into place - it shouldn’t feel this loose. Luckily, your head and torso were completely unscathed.

Lifting yourself up the best you could without straining anything too much, you noticed the car still in flames but driven off the road.

“He jumped, he jumped, he jumped,” you repeat, limping as quickly as you could, shield still attached to your arm. The closer you get the clearer everything becomes, regardless of the smoke. “Steve.”

You squint through the orange light and the dark of night. The fire wasn’t all that loud in its crackles and it doesn’t take you long to realize while tapping your ears that you lost your earpiece.

“Steve,” you try again, adrenaline still pumping but panic seeping in. As if on cue, you can make out his body laying far away from the car relatively unharmed. “Ah, shit.” You drop down on your knees and wince involuntarily. Slapping his cheeks doesn’t wake him up, neither does gently shaking him. You don’t want to do anything to hurt him more.

The sound of gravel popping kicks you back into spy mode. Hide. This was a hit, of course it was, and they were coming to see their job done.

“You so owe me,” you groan as you unstrap the shield to throw it into the woods, the faint tell of it hitting a tree enough to make you work faster. You hook your arms underneath Steve’s armpits and bend your knees, breathing in deeply and out a few times before pulling him with all your strength. There’s pain shooting up your arm but you try to ignore it. Small whimpers escape you as you pull harder and finally make it a good distance from the wreckage. You sit Steve, still unconscious, behind one of those massive pine trees and sit next to him after retrieving the shield.

It’s only two black SUV’s that come to check their hard work. They’re bending down and using their own fire extinguishers, snapping their own photos, the works. It isn’t until Seda walks over to admire the wreckage that you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming.

You’re seated in front of Steve now with the shield in front of you when a sudden movement to your left startles you. Before you scream, however, a hand covers your mouth.

“Shh, shh.” Sam. Your eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got him. Torres is coming for you, alright? I’m the only one who can carry him out.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you. You’re silently helping Sam strap Steve against his chest as Seda and his men are now investigating the woods. You can hear them close, cursing and yelling about finding you.

“Go a little further. Down there,” Sam points in front of you. “Torres is parked and waiting. Go.”

“Don’t drop him.” Sam stifles his laugh.

You follow his directions, limping as quickly as you can, and finally find Torres, your second knight in shining armor of the night.

After an all clear from the medical team, Steve is left alone in your hotel room to rest. He still hasn’t woken up but Helen isn’t worried since his scans show no major damage. Small talk with the rest of the team fills in the time but it’s like you’re not really there, merely a participant on a loop. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and you’re covered in scratches and smoky ash and you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to kill something.

Your father wanted you dead. And showing up to the wedding was just going to anger him more but it had to be done. But you were tired, so fucking tired, tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep or rest.

You let your hair down but stay in your tattered clothing, making yourself useful as best you can. You answer questions, you review footage, you draft up some reports. Bucky tries to sit you down at one point, but he backs off when you simply shake your head and give him that famous broken smile.

You’re sitting at your desk trying to save some of your phone’s cloud through the connected email. Sam has already ordered you a new phone. On the computer to your left, you’re scanning and uploading the files you stole tonight. On the right, your little butterfly is transcribing conversations from yesterday.

The transcription is finished before the uploads. It prints.

SEDA: ‘Ernesto needs to know how many more women we can get from Jonathon. I thought you said your Italian contact was up to date?’

UNKNOWN: ‘He is. But the women are coming from here instead. Got a load of ten just now.’

SEDA: ‘The shipment goes out during the wedding. Not before, not after. We can’t fuck this up for Ernesto and we cannot have the stars and stripes finding out.’

UNKNOWN: ‘Ernesto plans to mention it to him tomorrow.’

SEDA: ‘Then make sure he keeps quiet about it.’

The bitter taste in your mouth returns and you have to run to the nearest bathroom.

Steve wakes just an hour after, disoriented but able to discern who he is. “What happened?”

You’re standing at the foot of his bed, having just got there a few minutes before, practically on the verge of tears. “... Did you know?”

There it was. Any hope of truly coming to terms with this new world order or his role in it, any hope of feeling like he did before he succumbed to the American war propaganda and became a science experiment, crumbling before him. The heavy weight that were your shoulders, crumbling like shaky mountains. His own, tense and straining and urging him to get out of bed.

He’s been in the trenches when the smell of gas and blood clogged his nostrils and made him dizzy. He’s experienced loss a thousand times over, just heinous instances of despair where he swore he was torn in two. He’s lost on his own accord and pretended like the world was still on its axis.

And he knew his time was up. He just thought he’d have more than a day to enjoy it. “I was going to tell you.”

It’s like the air is punched out of you. “You knew?”

“Please, listen, please,” he scrambles out of bed.

“What the fuck, Rogers?”

“Ramirez told us yesterday. I swear I only found out yesterday. Yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” You’re stepping away from him. He’s almost on his hands and knees and you’re stepping away from him. “Before?”

Steve makes a pained noise. “Yes, but please-”

“No! You kept this to yourself and you had the fucking audacity to share the same bed as me?”

“Please, let me explain-” He tries to reach out but you side-step him. He reacts like you’ve shot him.

“Don’t touch me, Steve!”

“Please, just let me explain. We all know - Bucky, Sam, Torres, we all know.”

Your face does something he’s never seen it do. “Fuck?”

He’s talking faster now, words just spilling on the floor and into the air and he doesn’t know what else to do. “We’re tracking it. We have a plan set. We were supposed to tell you tomorrow before the wedding.” He stops to take in a breath. “I was going to tell you.”

“You went behind my back.”

“If I would have told you, you would have done something horrible tonight! We need your father alive to find those people!”

Eyes wide in shock and anguish, you step further away from him. Each step was the equivalent of a dagger plunging deep into Steve’s heart, twisting and burning its way to the depths of his vulnerability. He wanted to succumb to the pain - after all, he deserved it.

“That would have been my choice to make!”

Now he pushed forward, shoulders hunched and palms turned upward as if he was pleading for a crumb of understanding. “I was gonna kill him.”

He drops to his knees, arms wrapping around your waist. You remained perfectly still, a tree stump with no cover. “I was gonna shoot him between the eyes when I first found out. But if I had done that, then we would never know the location of those people.”

His weight was pulling you down and you felt his wet cheek against your stomach. “I deserved to know.”

His grip tightened, “You did. But if you would have known-”

“I would have known. Period.”

He had to know how much he weighed. But Steve leaned his body onto yours harder, afraid you would vanish and god forbid turn to dust. It didn’t really register in his mind that, even though he was holding you in place, you weren’t exactly trying to escape his hold either.

He had let you go once and he’ll be goddamned if he let you go again.

“It ate me alive. I hated doing this-”

You pushed against his shoulders and sensed his reluctance to let go. Instead, you look down at him and tense your jaw. “Steve, you don’t hate me, do you?”

His face dropped and his grip loosened. You should just slap him across the face, Steve thinks, because how in the world were you thinking that at this moment? Never did he think you would find a way to twist this - to somehow blame yourself for his mistake. Took a long time to see it, but you were just as righteous as he was. It would get you both killed someday.

“Why do you think that? What in the world would make you think that after all this time? After everything?”

He lets you push him away so he could stand but he makes sure to keep his hands on you. A tangible promise that you are real.

“You agreed to help me catch a drug lord. You didn’t sign up for this extra mess.”

“We may not always know what we’re up against,” Steve began, sniffing and wiping at his wet face. God, he felt like such a mess. “But I could never fucking hate you. Don’t even think that.”

“You sure?” your voice cracks, hands slightly shaking from the need to touch him too. “Captain America didn’t sign up for this.”

He shakes his head almost violently, “No, no. Don’t go there. I am not him, I haven’t been him in a long time.”

“Steve-”

“No! I’ve hated the title for a while now. I’m done. I’ve hated my reflection for years and years.” The tiny whine in the middle of your throat gurgled and your hands moved instantly to cup his cheeks. “I represent no one but myself. I’m tired of others thinking I’m the same man from ten years ago, or the same man from the forties, or the same man from last week just because they’re enamored by that star on my chest.”

He tilts his head to lean into your touch, “I am helping you because it’s the honorable thing to do. I signed up for this work, I intend to finish it. Not Captain America, but me - Steve, me.”

“You’re still making me feel like it’s something you have to do.”

“I admit that I was never overly fond of the idea of being wrapped up in this,” Steve admits, hands now cupping yours over his cheeks. “But toppling this empire will keep you safe.”

As heartwarming as that sounded, you broke the fantasy. “The minute we take the giants out, they’ll elect someone new.”

“But we take the giants out. The giants that hurt you.”

He’s right, like always.

“Steve,” you say quietly, bringing his face closer to kiss away his tears. You’re struggling to keep the tippy-toes and your ankle is screaming for a break, but you persist. “You should have told me.”

“I know.”

“No more secrets.”

“None, I swear, I promise.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you make sure his eyes are locked on yours before you speak. “I’m not walking away this time. I’m not leaving you. Not again.”

Steve’s mouth releases a big burst of air like he was holding it in, and he wraps you in a hug that promises the same.

TAGLIST: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress

A/N: Wooooo that took forever lol xxMoni

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

Chapter 2

The next week passes uneventfully, minus you being on edge. You hadn’t forgotten the red head’s words. Being benched is not at all what you wanted.

If anything you wanted to impress the infamous Black Widow. The team loves working with you and you enjoyed your time with them. When you got assigned to work with Romanoff you just knew you’d win her over, resulting in the whole team liking you. That didn’t happen however.

Instead you pissed her off doing the one thing you’re good at: kicking ass.

Now though, you try distracting yourself by training. Each time your fist connected with the punching bag or your muscles tightened you felt the tension roll of your shoulders.

But that lasted all of an hour, the ringing of your phone pulls you from your distraction.

“Y/L/N.” You answer breathless.

“Agent Y/L/N Director Fury is requesting to see you.”

Knowing better than to protest, despite your nerves, you agree and immediately get ready.

With the help of one of Tony’s fancy Audi′s you make it to Fury’s meet up spot in no time.

The mysterious man leans against the only table in the empty warehouse, leveling you with a stoic expression.

“Well if it isn’t the big boss man.” You smile and approach him.“ To what do I owe the nondescript meet up.”

He crosses his arms,“ you made quite the impression with Miss Romanoff.”

You have to reign in your expression, not wanting to appear afraid to the man in front of you.

“Well they say first impressions are everything.”

His expression doesn’t change.

“She’s not happy with you and when she’s not happy the team notices which effects team morale.” He speaks again before he can reply.“ Which means you need to fix things, now.”

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to do that? Miss Stone Cold Assassin doesn’t exactly want to befriend me.”

Nick’s eye narrows,“ try toning it down Agent.”

Sending a shocked gaze to Nick, you reply,“ toning it down isn’t my thing. I get the job done more than satisfactorily and I have fun while doing it. How about I just keep my distance from Romanoff and you only assign me to work with the boys. They get me.”

“Oh the boys get you do they?” His tone is completely sarcastic and his expression alone tells you he’s done discussing.“ That’s cute, except I don’t care.You and Natasha have just been assigned.”

Your eyebrows raise,“ come on Fury,” you groan,“ give me a break. You saw how unhappy she was with our first mission and I’m almost positive you know she ripped me a new one when we got back to the compound. Just,” you sigh,“ I don’t know, assign Clint instead.”

“It sounds a lot like you’re trying to give me an order.”

You stiffen instantly. No, you aren’t scared of Nick Fury, but you do respect him. What you just did, wasn’t all that respectful.

“Alright, I’ll work with Romanoff.” He raises a brow.“ And I’ll tone it down.”

With a quick smirk, he nods, hands you the mission file, and sends you on your way.

You know Natasha knows because the second you enter the compound she’s waiting for you.

She leans against the back of the couch clad in a tank top and the yoga pants, a sheen of sweat sitting on her skin. Most definitely just came from training.

You can’t help but take in her figure, eyes lingering on her exposed midriff and down the curve of her hips.

For those few seconds you can’t possibly deny how stunning she is. Obviously, right? It’s Natasha Romanoff. The one woman who could pull off look, as far as you were concerned.

By the time you refocus, it’s too late.

“Typical that you’re not listening.” She scoffs, eyes rolling and arms crossing.

It’s the hardest thing ever to not be distracted again as her arms push her breast up.

“Sorry I was distracted.” You frown.

Her eyes narrow,“ and what exactly has you so distracted?”

Right, cause you’re just going to admit that her body is what distracted you. She hates you already, pretty sure that wouldn’t play well.

“Nothing.” You run a hand through your hair.“ What were you saying?”

She’s silent for a moment, eyes searching yours. Painted in those green eyes is irritation, toward you obviously. But there’s the faintest hint of curiosity in them. She wants to know what distracted you, just as much as she wants to hit you for ignoring her.

“Wheels up in twenty.” She finally says, turning and leaving.

After you’ve finished packing you head out your room to the waiting Quinjet.

Natasha isn’t there yet, so you take a moment to read over the mission file.

The more you read the more anxious you get.

While there is no exact time stamp on the file, it’s clear this is going to be more than an over night type of mission. If previous missions like this told you anything, you know you’re going to be staying with Natasha for a stint of time.

Just as your thoughts start to linger on the idea of being with Natasha closely overnight, she comes up the ramp of the Quinjet.

For some reason you expect her to be in uniform but she’s opted out of wearing the black Kevlar, instead choosing a pair of black joggers and a matching hoodie.

A quippy remark instantly readies itself in your head, but you refrain from saying it. Deciding to just read as much of the mission file as possible.

The entire flight is silent.

You never thought silence could be overbearing but it is. It looms over you and makes you feel uneasy.

It was never like this with the guys, you would chat with them about almost anything on the flights. Hell, when you were with Tony or Clint it’s safe to say you had a jam session, music blasting through the Quinjet as you guys prepared for the mission.

This though, this was awkward. It’s like Natasha didn’t even want to look at you.

She placed herself at the pilot’s seat long before take off and hadn’t moved, even after she turned on autopilot.

It’s like a breath of fresh air when the jet lands in a clearing. The second the doors open you’re stepping out.

The clearing provides the perfect coverage for the jet and a quick glance around clarifies that you two will be walking a bit before you get to the safe house.

On the walk over, you don’t allow an awkward silence to settle.

“So, uh,” you pause,“ I wanted to uh, apologize-”

“Save it.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You chuckle in disbelief.

“You’re only apologizing because Fury told you to. You’re not actually sorry for your actions which means that apology is useless.”

Just like that, despite your efforts, awkward silence ensues.

It even carries into the safe house, which is just a covertly placed cabin in the woods.

A really nice cabin at that. Under extremely different circumstances you’d have called it romantic.

You and Natasha go to your temporary bedrooms and you reemerge before she does.

With the late hour you decide to make dinner. Courtesy of Tony Stark, the kitchen is fully stocked and you use the expanse of ingredients to make the one dish you perfected: spaghetti.

The scent alone intrigues the Russian red head and brings her out of hiding. Despite the stoic expression on her face, you see the intrigue in her eyes the closer she gets.

You notice in this moment that she’s not all that great at hiding her emotions. Or at least she hasn’t been with you. Or you’re just good at seeing behind the mask she puts up with everyone.

Making two plates of the pasta, you slide one to the spot Natasha is standing at and then set a glass of water next to it.

She eyes the plate and then looks at you.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow, then decide to jokingly ask,“ water not fancy enough? Would you prefer a Sparkling Water or a glass of wine instead?”

Green eyes narrow at you,“ do you have wine?” Her sultry tone accompanies a raised brow.

You stumble over a response, as you don’t know. But you go in search of wine, and find it. But what else did you expect from one Tony Stark then to have wine at a mission safe house.

“Surprise surprise. Apparently Tony knows what you like.” You comment, grabbing a wine glass and setting it beside the water.

Moving slowly, as if she were debating whether to stay or not, Natasha sits. Her gaze follows your every move.

Each second she watches you, you feel more and more flustered.

Part of you wonders if her eyes are watching dangerously, sizing you up in case she has to ‘otherwise incapacitate you’. The other part of you wonders if her eyes watch you as your eyes had watched her earlier, taking in your appearance and loving every bit of it.

You can admit that both parts in whole feel like prey.

Shaking it off, you pour her wine and then grab your own plate.

Much like every other moment with her today, it’s silent. Words aren’t spoken and apart from forks clashing on plates there’s no sound.

That’s a stark contrast to how the next morning goes.

The mission required recon. Simple recon. Check out the enemies base, size up the threat, figure out the best possible point of entry. All things were supposed to be covert.

Supposed to be.

Honestly, neither you or Natasha are sure what happened. One second you were hidden on a nearby hill, out of sight, out of mind. The next you were fighting through a barrage of enemies.

The outside of the base was littered with bodies. Unsurprisingly it got easier with each take down.

“So, our covers blown, what’d you say we finish this up now.” You jab a fist straight into the throat of the nearest bad guy.“ Get in, get the data, get out. I think we could handle that.”

For a brief second you make eyes with Natasha across the field and quirk in eyebrow in question.

You hear her sigh, followed by the grunt of the guy she took down,“ fine. But we go in the way we planned.”

“I hope you don’t mean covertly cause losing these guys is going to be a pain in the ass.”

“Get your ass to the roof Y/L/N.”

After handling the nearest guys, you and Natasha make quick work of getting to the roof and into the facility. That’s where things took a turn for the worst.

At first it was easy enough, you got in, got the information, but there were more bad guys than you expected.

It worried you instantly and for the first time in your career you doubted your decision. No because you aren’t skilled enough, not because this is new to you. You doubt yourself because you’re not alone.

This time around there’s someone else to worry about. Someone who, despite not having known her long, you care about.

“Hey Nat you-” you’re cut off when a bullet whiz pass you, leaving a very noticeable gash across your forehead.“ Ass.” You grunt and shoot him, twice for good measure.

“Now’s not the time Y/L/N.”

“No, I was gonna say, maybe we should-” Once again you’re cut off, but this time it’s because of Natasha.

Her grunt of pain followed by quick breaths in.

Your eyes survey the area and you don’t find Natasha. You do see the influx of bad guys headed in a particular direction.

Moving as quickly as possible, you get to her, eliminating the immediate threat as quickly as possible.

You see the blood before you see the wound, yet and still, your heart drops when you take in the bullet wound.

“Shit, hang on Nat.” The nickname slips from your mouth with ease, so much ease that you don’t pay any mind to it.

A couple more bad guys later and your kneeling beside the bleeding red head, applying pressure to her injury.

Those green eyes start to droop and you curse.

“Natasha, hey, keep your eyes open alright.” Your voice is starting to sound panicky.

Blood leaves her wound rapidly and it makes your heart pound in your chest. You nearly rip your jacket off, removing your shirt, and wrapping it around Natasha’s torso. Once it’s tied tight enough you put your jacket back on and turn to handle the last of the threat.

There’s only a few enemies left, which you can handle, but you’d much rather be tending to Natasha.

You run out of bullets just as the last guy comes charging at you. He’s much bigger than the other guys.

“Oh fuck off.” You groan and charge him.

Jumping up, you kick your feet straight into his chest and he stumbles and falls back. You take that quick second to throw a knife between his eyes.

Chest heaving with uneven breaths you hasten over to Natasha. Her eye’s flutter as she struggles to keep them open.

“Alright pretty girl, let’s get you outta here.” You mumble and scoop Natasha into your arms.

You instantly feel her blood against your skin, already having soaked through your shirt. It makes you move faster, the worry doing wonders to your adrenaline.

By the time you make it back to the safe house Natasha is completely unconscious and the second you lay her down you search for a pulse. Luckily you find one. It’s weaker than it should be, but you know she won’t die.

You make quick work of cleaning, sterilizing, and dressing her wound.Then moving her into her bed and pulling a shirt over her body.

The adrenaline wears off the second you step out her room. Your shoulders sag and you can’t help but stare at the blood on the floor. Natasha’s blood.

It’s in that moment that you understand completely why Natasha is so pissed at you. Your actions are stupid and reckless.

What you did today got her hurt.

As you clean the mess of her injuries you instill in yourself at that moment to never ever be the cause of her hurt. Because you hated seeing her like that. She looked so fragile, paler than usual due to blood loss, and broken.

Your thoughts finally quiet as sleep creeps up on you. Worry still plaguing you, you slip back into Natasha’s room and slide on to the floor beside her bed.

“You better wake up Romanoff.” You mumble before allowing yourself to sleep.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romonova #marvel x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #avengers #reader insert #mcu #Thin Line

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mywonuderful · 3 years

Text

Close Strangers

Summary: You recently move in to a new condo complex, finding that a very attractive neighbor lived beside you. You’ve encountered each other multiple times, exchanging shy glances blushes and conversation and before you know it, you’ve fallen head over heels for your next door tenant. The new years is coming up, which you’ve spend either video calling your parents or alone for the most part, but the ending of this year and the beginning of the next is sure a surprise.

Pairing: Optional Male Bias (H/N) X Female!Reader

Genre: Fluff, and poorly attempt of humor

Warnings: Drinking

A/N: Happy new year everyone! 2020 has been a year filled with the unexpected, upside downs and rollercoaster rides but with the start of 2021, let’s all stay positive, healthy and make lots of memorable memories. I hope everyone has a wonderful start of the new year!

main masterlist

You knew he did the big three (squats, deadlifts and bench press) by the way he walked passed the front gate security, nodding a ‘hello’ before flashing his charming smile to whoever passed him as he walked back to his unit. It’s been almost a year since you moved into your new home, and also almost a year since you’ve fell for him; your extremely attractive next door neighbor. You were leaning against your balcony railing, sipping on your hot drink while following his small figure from your floor. Despite living on a higher level, the veins on his arms and hands popping out were still visible through his thick sweater where his sleeves were pulled up, holding the packed bags of groceries.

You’d be lying if all those times you coincidently bump into him in the halls or the elevator weren't planned, trying the start a conversation with him to only chicken out, stuttering majority of the time as you sound like a blabbering mess. Sometimes you’ll see his blurred figure on the balcony beside yours through the frosted glass screen as you find yourself unconsciously heading out, sitting on your patio couch, reading your novel, looking at the sky or people watching with his presence of him typing on his laptop which you found oddly relaxing. It was new year’s eve, a normal day for you where the most you did on this day was video call your parents. But this year, you decided to add a little spark to the last day of the year, which was attempting to cook yourself dinner, something you don’t find your most confident. You decided to do some shopping before supermarket closed early. You threw on a sweater and some pants before putting on a jacket, closing the door behind you. As you turned around, you saw the elevator doors open, like the gates to heaven were opening, as he walked out, eyes raising to meet yours before his lips curved up into a smile, his eyes crinkled making your heart flutter. You smiled, walking towards the elevator.

“Good afternoon.” His slowed down his steps as the two of you approached each other.

“Good afternoon.” You replied, eyes tracing down on his white knuckles from clutching onto the bags. “Do you need some help?”

“It’s okay. I’m almost there anyways.” His eyes followed yours. You looked back up, seeing his smile which definitely had a different affect up close.

“Are you sure?” You tried asking once more, seeing that one of the bags were on the edge of ripping. Right as he was about to open his mouth and decline, the bag ripped as vegetables bounced onto the floor, rolling off into different directions. “Well, it seems like there’s no deny for needing help now.” You chuckled as he followed.

“Let me drop off these bags first.” He quickly walked to his door, entering in his passcode before dropping them in the doorway, helping to pick up the fallen veggies.

“Are you throwing a party or something? This is enough to for a feast.” You questioned as you picked up what seemed to be a never ending motion of standing up and kneeling down. He laughed at your comment, kneeling down beside you to pick up the last bits. You turned to the last one as both of you reach out for it, his hand landing on top off yours before you retreated, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Thanks.” He said, standing back up. You placed the vegetables in the bag he opened up for you. “I just bought extras since the supermarkets won't be opening until a few days after new years.” He explained. “Are you headed out to a gathering?” He questioned, seeing you ready to head out.

“Oh no. I’m just headed out to get some groceries before they close.” His mouth parts as he lets out a silent ‘ah,’ nodding along. “Well...”

“Well...” You mirrored, finding yourself in an awkward silence, staring at the floor as he looked around the hall as if it was his first time being here. “I’ll be going then.”

“Be careful.” He watched you click the elevator button before heading back into his home. Once you heard his door lock, you couldn’t help but to break out into a smile, from his words that probably didn’t much. Your steps were light to the grocery store, feeling cheery as you hummed while shopping.

---

“Okay... This can’t be too hard.” You mumbled as you placed your laptop with the recipe on the kitchen counter, putting on an apron before tying your hair up. You settled on making a 'one sheet pan dinner' recipe that highlighted 'fail-proof, lazy, quick and easy' which sold you away, feeling hopeful that it'll turn out well. You walked over to the living room, opening the curtains to the beautiful sight of the sun setting. One of the things you've loved about your condo unit aside from the fact that your dream man whom you barely know lives beside you and the fact that you have a breathtaking view of the sky, being able to see the sunset or rise was one of the main reason you sit out on your balcony so much. You opened the door to your balcony for some fresh air when your nose was filled with a delicious scent of meat and baked potatoes. You couldn't tell where it was from but the scent was sure strong enough that you almost wanted to drown yourself in that smell. Returning back to your kitchen, you started prepping your ingredients, off to a good start. You seasoned the meat, veggies and seafood when you froze, coming to realize that you forgot the potatoes. You could’ve just moved on, substituting it with another option but you had a sudden crave for it. You pondered for a few minutes before recalling that your neighbor, H/N bought a whole bag of potatoes.

‘He won’t be using all of the potatoes today right?’ You thought to yourself. You placed the pan into the oven first, so the food could start roasting while you fought between your two choices: ask Mr. Handsome or go craving for your sudden want of potatoes. You washed your hands before putting on your shoes, walking over next door before lightly knocking on his door. You heard faint holiday music behind his door before he opened it, a wave of flavorful aroma hitting your noise. “Is there something wrong?” You stared at his features. “Oh, sorry. My music must’ve been too loud.” You blinked yourself back to reality. “No no!” You said rather too loudly. “I couldn’t hear it. Don’t worry.” You reassured as he smiled, letting out a relieved laugh. “Um... I was wondering if you have any extra potatoes I could use.” “For sure. How many do you need?” “2, if it isn’t too much to as for.” He nodded, heading into his kitchen as you took a peek into his apartment. It had a minimalistic vibe with a pop of colours here and there. As you eyes were about to wandering in more, his figure appeared before your eyes, passing you a bag. “Here you go. I washed a few extras so they’re already clean.” You took the bag, fingers brushing against each other for a split second as both glanced at each other before he let out a chuckle as his cheeks started tinted red. Yours following because of how adorable he looked. “Thank you.” You managed to speak through your pounding heart. “Do you have guests over?” “Guests? No, I just thought I’d make myself a nice dinner.” He spoke, you nodding. ‘Ask him over for dinner!’ a part of your mind spoke. You shook your head, getting rid of the weird thoughts as your eyes met his, eyes confused on why you were shaking your head. “And what about you?” “Same here. Except, I’m attempting to make myself dinner.” The both of you broke out into laughter. “Sounds like fun. Maybe the both- is something burning?” He stopped mid way of his question when both your noses lingered the scent of odor of burnt food. You eyes widen, remembering that you were roasting your dinner. You quickly ran back into your apartment and kitchen, to see that there was heavy clouds of smoke coming out of the oven. “Oh no!” You yelled, opening the oven door before involuntarily sticking your hand towards the pan to pull it out without wearing gloves before a shock of pain travelled to your hand as you pulled it back, shaking it frantically. You turned on the tap of cold water before running your hand under it, hissing as the pain still remained. There was motion of someone fanning something in the corner of you eyes when you turned your head, to see that H/N was not only in your home but also very sexily fanning the smoke alarm so that it doesn’t go off, alarming the whole condo complex. He dropped the rolled up magazine before running over to you. “Are you alright?” His hand wrapped around your wrist as he took a look at your redden hand. The pain started increasing as you scrunched your face, telling to hold in everything that you can to scream in pain. “This doesn’t look too good.”

---

You found yourself in a situation that happened all in a flash. One minute you were outside H/N’s door and the next moment, he’s sudden in your home, sitting on your couch with his first aid kit as he started putting on ointment on your injury. Your eyes went up to his face, which was dangerously close to yours as he dabbing some medication on your palm before you moaned, feeling the burning and irritating on your burned skin. “Sorry. Does it hurt?” His head shot up to yours. His voice was soft and his eyes filled with worried made you almost wanted to cause a dramatic scene. “Just a little bit.” You whispered. His touch was gentle as he wrapped a bandage around your hand. “Thanks.” “No worries. It might take a while to heal. It looked pretty bad.” He said, eyes lingered on your covered hand before up to you. “Sorry to bother you like this.” You felt guilty for taking up some of his time in the evening when he could be enjoying his fancy dinner. “If there’s anything I can do in retur-” “It’s no worry. I was the one who wanted to help you.” He avoided your eyes as your heart started skipping again. The two of you remained quiet, staring away from each other as his eyes looked around your simple and cozy home. “Do you.... By any chance want to have dinner with me?” Surprised, you turned to look at him. “I mean... You can’t really cook with your hand looking like that and my co-worker cancelled on my last minute so I made enough servings for 2 people...” He started rambling along, you finding it cute as you let out a laugh without thinking. “I can probably just order some take out.” You said, half wanting to accept his offer. “I’m technically already finished with cooking and all. Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” He voice was soft, with a hint of desperation. “Well... I guess I can’t turn down a delicious meal.” You said after ‘thinking’ about it. His eyes sparkled from you answer as he stood up. “Would you like to come over to my place or would you want me to bring the dishes here?” “Either is fine with me. Whatever works better for you.” You smiled, looking up to him. “I’ll bring the dishes over then.” He left. You sat there, in confusion on why he wouldn’t just invite you over to his place since that’ll save so much more of the hassle and all. But then again, you were extremely thrilled that you were about to have dinner with your long-term crush. He laid out a line full of dishes before your eyes. He sat on the seat across from you as you both exchanged awkward glances before breaking out into shy laughs and smiles. “Would you like some wine?” You offered, seeing that the only drink on the table was water. He smiled, nodding as you stood up, heading over your wine cooler. “Wow. I didn’t except you to be a wine drinker.” He commented as you pulled out the trays of wine. “I know a thing or two about it. Is there anything you’ll like in particular?” Your hands hovered over the rows of wine, seeing what catches your eye. You did study wine in the past, as a hobby since you loved winding down to some good wine.

“How about Pinot Noir?” He suggested, as your eyebrow rose as the perfect wine came to your mind. You looked up, seeing that the bottle was at the very top. You tippy toed, trying to reach for it before a hand overlaps yours. You backed out, out of panic, hitting your back on his very toned and firm chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you there. Thought you needed some help.” He took the wine down. Your cheeks burning red as you touched them, hoping it’ll do any good to cool them down. “This is one of my favorite brands. I guess we have some things in common.” He chuckled. You brought over the wine glasses before he popped it open, pour you a glass before himself. “Cheers.” He held up his glass, the both of you toasting before digging in.

“This is amazing. Your co-worker is missing out on this.” You complimented as you sliced the meat, seeing how tender and perfectly cooked it was. “It’s nothing special.” He laughed as he took a sip from his glass. “I might need to start taking lessons from you.” You teased as you shared a light laugh, feeling a sense on comfort. “Anytime.” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at his offer as you thought to yourself how lucky you were. “Do you normally spend new year’s eve with your co-workers or friends?” You questioned, seeing if he would bring up his significant other, if he had one. “No, I usually spend new year’s alone. My co-worker and I planned on having dinner together but he canceled last minute, saying that his wife was coming back from overseas.” Your ears tingled as you heard ‘he.’ “You don’t have a girlfriend?” You daringly asked as he eyes glanced at you before looking away. You couldn’t tell if he was blushing or if it was the wine. But nonetheless, it sure did something to your feels. “O-Oh.... No, no I don’t.” He confessed as a wave of relief washed over you. “What about you? About spending new years that is.” “I usually spend them alone as well.” You answered with him looking at you. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” You laughed as you felt him asking that question through his eyes. He leaned back on the chair with a small nod and a “I see.”

The both of you finished dinner, fighting over who cleans the dishes. You won over him, as he sat on your couch, watching you as you washed the dishes. You felt his stare as you tried to remain focus, looking down on the sink to finish up rinsing the dishes. You sliced some fruits and bought out some dessert, placing them on a tray before bringing them out to the coffee table. “I normally have a sweet tooth after dinner so...” You trailed off his his eyes scanned the tray of desserts. “I love sweets.” The rest of the night, you both started sharing common interest, way more than you thought. “It’s been a year since you’ve moved in? I thought it was longer.” He refilled his glass of wine. “Right? I guess time flies when you’re in a comfortable place.” You smiled, looking around your home. “I still recall the first day you moved in.” He sudden spoke, as your eyes widen, the embarrassing memories coming back to you. On the first day you moved in, you tried to open the door of your home when it wouldn’t turn unlock, making you juggle, shake and whack around the key hole violently out of frustration. You turned around, seeing a man standing there staring at you as you realized that you were putting your keys into the room unit. Later on that day, you were handing out gifts to your new neighbors as you knocked on the door next to your, where you also tore down. The door opened as you were faced with the man from earlier, your eyes filled with horror and confusion because your landlord told you that a female lived next door. You handed him the gift, telling him to pass it on to the female tenant when he told you that he was the tenant living there, as he opened the present, pulling out a laced blouse.

“Hey, I was informed by the landlord that the person who was living next door was a lady who apparently shared many common interest with me! I thought you were her boyfriend or something.” You confessed as he started laughing. You stared at him for a second before laughing along, retracing the memories. “Well, she’s only right for the second half.” “Why do you still even remember it? I wish I could erase it from my memory forever.” “I mean you left quite the impression.” Your eyes fluttered up, feeling guilty. “That wasn’t meant to be an insult. I have seen anyone like you so it was quite refreshing and adorable.” Your mind couldn’t settle as his voice saying ‘adorable’ repeated in your head a thousand times. After the two of you settled down, you turned on the TV, displaying that there was about 10 minutes left until the new year. There was a crowd of people in front of the town hall, where faces of couples, children and people happily smiling were shown on the screen. “I had a wonderful time today.” He turned to face you as you place down your half eaten cookie. “Me too. I realized how boring it can be being alone on new year’s eve... Or just any occasion honestly.” His eyes met yours before smiling. “But having dinner with you today was sure one of the highlights of my year.” “Likewise. I’m always a door away. So you’re welcome to stop by and chat no matter what time or day it is.... Just as long as I’m home and awake.” He laughed at the last part, you taking a mental note of it.

“Your company on the balcony is what make me feel like I have someone with me, even though they don’t see or realize it.” You suddenly confessed, regretting it after the words left your mouth. “Sorry I didn’t mean to make it sound like that.” “No, it’s alright. I see you out in the balcony reading sometimes so I work outside too. I mean, the company is nice.” Your ears couldn’t believe what they heard as the both of you fell into a deep shade of red. You stared at the TV, not knowing where to look as the both of you would catch each other giving each other shy glances.

“10! 9! 8!” People were screaming on the TV screen, counting down the remaining seconds of the year. “Shall we share a toast?” He stood up as you followed, holding up your glasses. “7! 6! 5!” “To a brightful start of the new year.” He said and you copied. “4! 3! 2!” “And a hopeful, promising future for the both of us,” He smiled, your heart was pounding like crazy as you followed his words. “1! Happy new year!” Couples kissing where shown on the screen as you and H/N stared at each other, holding up your glasses. He was looking at you as you looked at him, in shock and confusion with your heart almost jumping out of your chest. “together.” He said with a gentle smile, lifting his glass towards yours. “together.” You smiled in return, as your glasses clinked together.

And you knew for a fact that the new year was sure going one filled with heart fluttering surprises, events and memories with your next door tenant.

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