#will never recover from the author saying it would be a series then falling off the face of the earth </3

[lamentablesbian]

maybe if i read my comfort fic for the 87,367th time i’ll feel normal again

#this is about trust fall (and welcoming arms) btw #the girls who get it get it! #fic. of all time. #will never recover from the author saying it would be a series then falling off the face of the earth </3 #myken talks #aftg

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

Octavia Is Sidelined So Much In Favor Of Stolitz

Despite being used as an example of how Stolas is really a good person and father, I do notice overtime her importance in the series has dwindled. Seriously, despite how the narrative wants us to think she is the treasured jewel of his life the execution would have you say that her father is more distracted by his boy toy due to how Vivziepoop has overemphasized the Stolitz ship.

Take for example is "Seeing Stars" where he neglects his daughter and breaks his promise to see the event he promised years ago, because he's so wrapped up in his divorce and even goes to insult her mother in front of her (even though he's said in the past he's tried to shield his daughter from the ugly parts of his and Stella's relationship). However, now that he's divorcing he doesn't hesitate to be as ugly with Stella as possible which shows how really good of a father he is. Also when she goes missing despite saying that Blitzo's dick isn't enough to quell Stolas's anger when it's his daughter is involved... well it actually goes like that, because both Blitzo and Stolas can't help but flirt and be flustered around each other this whole episode. Instead of focusing on his daughter, he again is on Blitzo's dick and even worse his daughter has to forgive him for neglecting her.

Most egregious one of the them is at the end of "Western Energy" where we have the emphasis on how this affects Stolas and Blitzo's relationships especially those texts talking about their fall about Ozzie's. However, we never get focus on how Octavia felt after her father fucking almost bit the dust, because in the next episode that Stolas is in he's okay and again you would think he would be injured a bit more to show how serious Striker is. But nope due to Vivziepoop remembering he's a powerful demon, he recovers in a day and we don't see Octavia at least be escorted to the hospital to see him because again Octavia is only there when she's a tool to make him look better and not her own character.

And now we get to the music video of "Just Look My Way" where Octavia's mentions in it are scrubbed in favor of Blitzo which again shows how the narrative is favoring his boy toy over his own fucking daughter who is supposed to be the center of his world and not this person he's given up so much for. Seriously, it's why if Octavia appears again I will not take the narrative seriously because we know that despite all claims that her father will get distracted from being a parent and ogle over Blitzo because he's a selfish pos and yet Octavia will be the one who has to learn to tolerate his bs because he's got the author's favoritism.

I really at the first thought that Stolas relationship with his daughter was sweet, but then I realize like so many else it really lost it's potential once you realize that Octavia is just a prop to artificially make it seem like Stolas is a good father when in actuality he's selfishly putting her needs above hers in a situation he caused. And it's a result of the fact that the writers are just using her as a writing tool and not a full character. She isn't needed until it affects Stolas and even then the Stolitz ship zaps everything around it so that any attention that Octavia is taken away. In a way, Octavia's fears were justified her father would run off and leave her because the writers are.

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #anti-vivziepop #octavia #anti-stolas #anti-stolitz #stolitz #stolas #pro-octavia #octavia goetia #stolas goetia #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Alan & Jeff Forever!

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

The Sign (Sat YT) ep 10 of 12 - I am a little concerned that this is getting too big for its britches, rather like Phaya’s recently recovered snake… shall we say? Adding in yet another character at this juncture isn’t the best idea. Still, I love how this show makes me cackle laugh with grandmas + Yai and then TENSION.

It’s a wobbly kind of balance but a balancing act is happening nonetheless. It makes the pacing of this show good. It may be all over the place but I'm never bored.

Pit Babe (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 14 - No trash talk this week, I was charmed & delighted. Who knew I would actually enjoy this show? Certainly not me. (not much of a...) Trash watch happening here.

Cooking Crush (Sun YT) ep 8 of 12 - I am pretty much skipping most of the 3 chef friends, and all of the side dish action (sorry Neo). And with OffGun apart for most of this ep, it didn’t hold together since they are the glue. Sigh.

Last Twilight (Fri YT) ep 12fin - Okay let’s talk about it.

Mhok should have gone off with someone else. Day treated him like shit and never once apologized. To assume an apology isn’t necessary is to pity Day in the exact way he didn’t want. (On a complete aside, one of my favorite Thai restaurants back in my mispent youth was in Hilo, HI… ah memories) meanwhile the "passing escalators trope" activated in the land of malls (it’s been a while my old friend).

Anygay, I hold that Mohk was not a fault and Day was the one who needed to apologize.

Although they did have one of BL's BEST ever face touch moments. 

In conclusion: 

The story of a blind man and his caregiver falling in love. Mark is great. JimmySea are spectacular. The support cast is GMMTV-good. And for the first 3/4 this BL was something rather special. But it was let down by its ending (for which I entirely blame the author). In order to like this show you must buy into the premise that Mhok was in the wrong and caused their breakup. If you don’t believe that, you won’t like this BL. Also "fixing a disability = true happiness" is gross messaging. For me, endings counts for a lot and this one was ultimately “happy” but felt like a failure. 7/10 and I was sorely tempted to go as low as a 6/10, so it should count itself lucky 

I dithered my darling BLabies... I dithered A LOT over this one. But JimmySea alone held this one up.

GMMTV we gotta talk. You're fielding some of the world's best pairs right now. It's time to get them equally good scripts.

For Him (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - This installment had too much of the side couple in it. Although it was nice to see First/Dream (Twins) again. He's still a cutie, even playing a straight. 

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) ep 23 of 24 - I have to say I’m very glad we are on the last installment of the series. Narcissistic hairdresser starts seeing a spirit in a mirror. Turns out to be a friend from his youth who he thought was dead. This one is kinda sweet, and I find the premise interesting. Is the kid actually dead and a spirit? Or is there something else going on? I am intrigued. And I like the actor playing the kid in the mirror. I suspect this will be sad tho.

Time the series (Thai Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - I don’t exactly know what is going on. And frankly I don’t particularly care, either. So far nothing seems to be happening, and I really intensely dislike one half of the main couple. DNF welcome 2024 here we go 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Love For Love's Sake (Korea Weds iQIYI) 1-2 of 8 - based on the Manhwa Love Supremacy Zone by Hwacha (they should have kept the original title). I adore the premise. IRL person has been sent into fictional universe to save a side character from doom. Fantastic. Every fanfic author's dream. Also, I love that our POV was the bad boy in high school so there’s also a redemption arc going on. I adore this kind of isekai (if you wanna call it that). Puppy/cat pairing too! 

Although I Love You and You AKA Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 3 of 10 - Oh my goodness they too cute. Basically dating. Although only one of them realizes it, and he is such a drama queen. It’s GREAT. Also they are both so damn gay. I love the supportive bestie trying to cope with the girl who has a crush on his gay bff. 

Happy Ending (Korea Tues YT) 1 of 3 - Strongberry is back and it’s very them and very atmospheric and cute. I’m enjoying it. 

Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun (Japan Fri Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - Japan giveth and Japan taketh away again. Look, I just like the lost love teacher/teacher couple better. I'm assuming they'll have to do a time jump in the final episode to make this one work at all. 

I am SO GLAD we have KBLs back on our screens.

It's done

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps - will binge when I have any spare time. 2024 is crazy busy for me so far.

The Servant and the Young Master - from Vietnam so I assume it's on YouTube. I never even noticed. Anyone?

Began Beginning (Myanmar YouTube) - Is TRUST Entertainment bringing us the first ever Burmese BL? I don't know if it's really the first, but @heretherebedork vouched for it, so I will give it a watch through.

Beside You (Thai ????) - a 3 ep short that's supposed to have aired but I can't find it.

It's Airing But...

[NO INTERNATIONAL] Cherry Magic (Sat YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - yeah Japan put the smack down on our boys. Sadness. You can use a VPN if you like. Read all about it here.

Ossans Love Season 2 (Japan Gaga) - 5 years later, will anything have changed? This is Japan so… probubly not. I won't be watching this. I disliked Season one and actively hated the follow ups. No thank you.

Playboyy (Thurs Gaga) 14 eps - Dear Playboyy, it's not you, it’s me… I hate you. You’re about as deep (and as palatable) as a shot glass of cum. While I'm sure you’re someone’s kink, you're my weakest link. Goodbye. I DNFed this at ep 5. Frankly I'm impressed with myself for getting that far.

The Whisperer (Sun ????) 10 eps - Ends next week. Thai horror BL that ALSO involves cheating (what joy is mine). I don't think even the perfect single dimple can motivate me to watch. Word is... it's terrible.

7 Days Before Valentine (Weds WeTV) 10 eps - Giving me Luminous Solution vibes. I'm waiting to binge if safe.

Dead Friend Forever (Thai Sat iQIYI) - horror, meh, tell me if it's worth my time?

In Case You Missed it

All my year-end round ups:

TOP 10 BL Trends of 2023

Top 10 BL Secondary Pairs of 2023

2023 BLs Best Trope Execution Awards! TOP 10

All the BLs Announced for 2023 that didn't happen

BL 2023's Best:

Back Hugs Thailand & Elsewhere

Cute Bits of Domesticity

Boys Feeding Boys

BOOP!

Best Cuddles

Heads in Laps

Touching Head Touches

Thailand Put His Head on Your Shoulder

Put Your Head on My Shoulder (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES (not Thailand)

BEST KISSES FROM THAILAND

Next Week Looks Like This:

2/2 City of Stars AKA Fueangnakorn (Fri YouTube?) 10 eps - An actor falls in love with a programmer and the narrative intends to “explore the ramifications of being public figure in the social network era who must endure critics, bullying, and defamation.” Looks like another Lovely Writer/Call It What You Want sort of thing. But helmed by Star Hunter? Chaos will ensue.

2/2 Anti Reset AKA Anti-Reset (Taiwan Fri Gaga?) 10 eps - from Vidol (who aren't doing us very proud right now) - Human and robot find love.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Say what you like about this show (and I have) they do some very gay cuddling. (Him the series)

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

This show, damnit, so close to being genius. (Last Twilight)

I don't that's a hardshi,p grandma ... although it may be a hard ship... get it.

I'll stop now.

(The Sign)

(Last week)

#pit babe the series #pit babe #AlanJeff #the sign #the sign the series #the sign is the best #last twilight failed us #cooking crush #offgun #last twilight series review #last twilight #jimmysea #him the series #thai bl #this week in bl #bl updates #Love For Love's Sake #korean bl #although i love you and you #Sukiyanen Kedo Do Yaro ka #japanese bl #Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun #happy ending the series #Love Supremacy Zone #isekai #isekai BL #isekai yaoi

[woundgallery]

Doubt by Fanny Howe

Virginia Woolf committed suicide in 1941 when the German bombing campaign against England was at its peak and when she was reading Freud whom she had staved off until then.

Edith Stein, recently and controversially beatified by the Pope, who had successfully worked to transform an existential vocabulary into a theological one, was taken to Auschwitz in August 1942.

Two years later Simone Weil died in a hospital in England—of illness and depression—determined to know what it is to know. She, as much as Woolf and Stein, sought salvation in a  choice of words.

But multiples succumb to the sorrow induced by an inexact vocabulary.

While a whole change in discourse is a sign of conversion, the alteration of a single word only signals a kind of doubt about the value of the surrounding words. Poets tend to hover over words in this troubled state of mind.  What holds them poised in this position is the occasional eruption of happiness.

While we would all like to know if the individual person is a phenomenon either culturally or spiritually conceived and why everyone doesn’t kill everyone else, including themselves, since they can—poets act out the problem with their words.

Why not say “heart-sick” instead of “despairing”? Why not say “despairing” instead of “depressed”?

Is there, perhaps, a quality in each person—hidden like a laugh inside a sob—that loves even more than it loves to live? If there is, can it be expressed in the form of the lyric line?

Dostoevsky defended his later religious belief, saying of his work, “Even in Europe there have never been atheistic expressions of such power.  My hosannah has gone through a great furnace of doubt.”

According to certain friends, Simone Weil would have given everything she wrote to be a poet.  It was an ideal but she was wary of charm and the inauthentic.  She saw herself as stuck in fact with a rational prose line for her surgery on modern thought.  She might be the archetypal doubter but the language of the lyric was perhaps too uncertain.

As far as we know she wrote a play and some poems and one little prose poem called Prologue. Yet Weil could be called a poet, if Wittgenstein could, despite her own estimation of her writing, because of the longing for a conversion that words might produce. In Prologue the narrator is an uprooted seeker who still hopes that a transformation will come to her from the outside.  The desired teacher arrives bearing the best of everything, including delicious wine and bread, affection, tolerance, solidarity (people come and go) and authority.  This is a man who even has faith and loves truth.

She is happy.  Then suddenly, without any cause, he tells her it’s over.  She is out on the streets without direction, without memory.  Indeed she is unable to remember even what he told her without his presence there to repeat it, this amnesia being the ultimate dereliction.

If memory fails, then the mind is air in a skull.

This loss of memory forces her to abandon hope for either rescue or certainty.

And now is the moment where doubt—as an active function—emerges and magnifies the world.  It eliminates memory.  And it turns eyesight so far outwards, the vision expands.  A person feels as if she is the figure inside a mirror, looking outwards for her moves.  She is a forgery.

When all the structures granted by common agreement fall away and that “reliable chain of cause and effect” that Hannah Arendt talks about—breaks—then a person’s inner logic also collapses.  She moves and sees at the same time, which is terrifying.

Yet strangely it is in this moment that doubt shows itself to be the physical double to belief; it is the quality that nourishes willpower, and the one that is the invisible engine behind every step taken. Doubt is what allows a single gesture to have a heart.

In this prose poem Weil’s narrator recovers her balance after a series of reactive revulsions to the surrounding culture by confessing to the most palpable human wish: that whoever he was, he loved her.

Hope seems to resist extermination as much as a roach does.

Hannah Arendt talks about the “abyss of nothingness that opens up before any deed that cannot be accounted for.”  Consciousness of this abyss is the source of belief for most converts.  Weil’s conviction that evil proves the existence of God is cut out of this consciousness.

Her Terrible Prayer—that she be reduced to a paralyzed nobody—desires an obedience to that moment where coming and going intersect before annihilation. And her desire: “To be only an intermediary between the blank page and the poem” is a desire for a whole-heartedness that eliminates personality. Virginia Woolf, a maestro of lyric resistance, was frightened by Freud’s claustrophobic determinism since she had no ground of defense against it.  The hideous vocabulary of mental science crushed her dazzling star-thoughts into powder and brought her latent despair into the open air. Born into a family devoted to skepticism and experiment, she had made a superhuman effort at creating a prose-world where doubt was a mesmerizing and glorious force.

Anyone who tries, as she did, out of a systematic training in secularism, to forge a rhetoric of belief is fighting against the odds.  Disappointments are everywhere waiting to catch you, and an ironic realism is always convincing.

Simone Weil’s family was skeptical too, and secular and attentive to the development of the mind.  Her older brother fed her early sense of inferiority with intellectual put-downs.  Later, her notebooks chart a superhuman effort at conversion to a belief in affliction as a sign of God’s presence.

Her prose itself is tense with effort.  After all, to convert by choice (that is, without a blast of revelation or a personal disaster) requires that you shift the names for things, and force a new language out of your mind onto the page.

You have to make yourself believe.  Is this possible?  Can you turn “void” into “God” by switching the words over and over again? Any act of self-salvation is a problem because of death which always has the last laugh, and if there has been a dramatic and continual despair hanging over childhood, then it may even be impossible. After all, can you call “doubt” “bewilderment” and suddenly be relieved?

Not if your mind has been fatally poisoned. . . . But even then, it seems the dream of having no doubt continues, finding its way into love and work where choices matter exactly as much as they don’t matter—at least when luck is working in your favor.

#fanny howe #virginia woolf #simone weil #literature #essay #woolf notes #words #weil notes #favorite literature

[caliburn-the-sword]

tlc fairest thoughts

this is all gonna be one post because if i put every "levana wtf" moment i had. i would end up just posting the ENTIRE book. ngl will probably tag this as anti?? because i don't have very much that is nice to say unlike the other books. respectfully, do not press keep reading if you're gonna be upset about how i feel about fairest because i don't want you to have a bad internet experience and i don't want ME to have a bad internet experience. thanks <3

am i really going to be forced to go through a whole second-hand-embarrassment-fest as an explanation for levana's backstory

sorry the writing style is giving the cruel prince. and i am very much not a fan of that book

wait i'm really confused. levana was 15 yet is now celebrating her 17th?? did the mourning period last an entire year or???

levana is just as delulu as cress when it comes to love, but she doesn't have the excuse of being locked up for like a decade in isolation. what's her excuse lol

respect for evret for being the ONLY grown man in this goddamn series that doesn't go after minors

AND NOW LEVANA IS 16 AGAIN. looks like someone in publishing didn't notice the continuity error lmao

idk if it's because i'm tired but WHY does channary not want anyone to know the father of the baby?? and also aren't there dna tests for that which make it redundant anyway??? tho i guess if she's fucking THAT many men then she wouldn't even know where to start with testing even if she did want to

i'm sorry but there's something HILARIOUS about levana hating all these women having babies. knowing that the babies are gonna grow up to kick her ass off the lunar throne

is the queen being glamoured????? it's hard to say because she was ALREADY such a disturbed individual that it's hard to say whether this new shit is her own thoughts or someone else's

TF LEVANA WAS SET ON FIRE BY HER SISTER?????

ahhh. part of me wonders if channary glamouring her sister during early developmental stages is what made levana so fucked up to begin with

the description of how hair catches fire is entirely accurate

god. i feel so bad for evret. his entire life was ruined and then he was killed before he could ever see his daughter grow up

ngl levana didn't seem to be very proactive in HER OWN story?? it's just a bunch of things happening to her or falling into her lap CONSTANTLY. other than her glamouring evret and trying to kill cinder, she never actually DOES anything. it felt like the author had a checklist of things like "okay these all canonically happen before the events of cinder so i'm gonna tick all these off quickly". idk. didn't love it. i'm glad that at least she didn't go to any effort to redeem levana, but istg levana literally had the moral consistency of literal water. one minute she's like "time to toss this baby off a balcony" and then "boohoo i didn't realise that killing someone would ACTUALLY kill them" like girl what???? that's not to say that i WANT her to be good and whatever, in fact i mean the opposite. just let her be an evil bitch. stop with the totally random, OUT OF PLACE bouts of empathy that happen for literally no reason. pulled me out of the plot so hard every time it happened. maybe it's because of my negative feelings but it just felt very anticlimactic?? i'm just sitting here like "okay so what??"

managed to get through the slogfest but i can already feel myself slipping into a reading slump. yesterday i wanted to read winter SO bad but now i feel like i need time to recover from that read. lesbians give me strength to persevere because i KNOW that i will LOVE winter

#the lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #it was through this book i discovered that i had been tagging winter incorrectly!! whoopsies #in my defence i would have googled it if i wasn't so afraid of seeing spoilers #anti fairest

[oddballwriter]

can we get something about Tim being comforted by his partner? we all know he needs it sometimes :(♡ just lots of fluff and anything you'd like to add! thank you, no rush and take your time; mwah!

More Important Than Anything

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

Summary: Tim goes through a lot and sometimes he can't handle it. So he always tends to come to you for a sense of comfort and stability. Being his rock is a lot too sometimes, but to you, it's worth it.

Warnings: mentions of distress, injuries that happened in canon, yelling and shouting, behaviors that imply being moments from a panic attack, and the mention of punching a hole in a wall. Spoilers for entry 59.

Author’s Snip: I loved this request sooooo much. Also sorry for not writing, I haven't been in a writing mood recently. Also this is mostly hurt comfort but there's some fluff to it a bit.  

Notes: This takes place right after Jay and Tim's fight in entry 59 and also mentions the part where Alex breaks _____'s knee in a previous entry, which currently evades me rn. Cencoring because of spoilers even though I'm sure you all have seen the entire series at this point. 

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy!

꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦

You would never call your boyfriend a handful. You would never call him something taxing. You would have something strike you dead if you ever even whispered it to yourself. Tim was a man with his own 'issues' that he's been dealt to live with, and you would never use that as a way to shame him.

But when he goes missing for days without any sign where he is or what he was doing, you'd get worried sick. You knew he was a very private man, but you had faith that if he ever ran off he'd either tell you or ask you to come with. Your fright only got worse when he showed up at your door step after having been gone for weeks with a busted knee and crutches, looking like he saw the gates of hell. You didn't ask any questions and just rushed him inside, and even when you did ask he said he just woke up in his car like that.

You didn't talk much about that day after that. You just let him stay with you till he felt like he was over staying his welcome. Which he wasn't, you would have let him stay till he was completely okay.

But whenever he did leave, you worried about him coming back to you in an even worse state. That's why when you heard a knock at your door in the dead of night you had that vision loom over you till you opened it.

It was in fact Tim, thankfully not physically beaten, but he looked very distressed. Something he used to do when his condition was at it's worse and he needed someone to be there to ground him and make sure he didn't hurt himself. But this was different. He just looked genuinely upset about something. You moved aside to let him in which he quickly did without saying a word.

"Is everything okay?" you muttered out. "No," Tim bursted out. "No! Everything's not okay! I just- It's just..." Tim exclaimed out but couldn't find the right words to describe what was wrong, like his feelings were flying everywhere and he hadn't properly collected them. His body language kept changing back and forth from that of a person who wanted to curl up and cry to a person who wanted to scream and punch holes in the walls, and neither of them stuck around to lock on either action.

"What happened?" you asked in a hushed tone and carefully walking towards him, like if too harsh of a voice or fast of a movement would spook him and make him worse. "Too much happened!" he shouted. You flinched at the volume of his voice. You knew he wasn't shouting at you. He was distressed and caught in between too many strong emotions and he doesn't know how to hold them still. You knew that. But you had never seen him this full of anger before. Upon recovering from the misplaced tone, you cautiously placed your hand on his upper arm. "Tim. What happened?" you repeated.

In that moment, Tim seemed to just come crumbling down. He practically latched onto you, almost making you fall down, and had just started to spill out so many things. You couldn't keep up with all of it, he was talking too fast. What you managed to take in was him talking about his condition coming back in full force after it had seemingly gone away, then side tracking talking about when he came to you that day with that busted knee and how terrified you looked for him, and something about a channel, an old acquaintance, and then his medical documents and something about a guy named Jay. All the while you had lead him to your couch so that he wouldn't fall to the floor as his body crumbled. Once he was done, he had practically sunk the two of you into the couch completely and he held onto you like you were the only thing still keeping his wits together. And he shook like one of those terrified little dogs.

You just held him. You held him as tight as you could and consoled him. That's all you could do. All you could do was just rub up and down his back and mutter "It's okay." and "I'm here." into his hair while Tim himself just shook and seemed on the boarder of crying.

"I'm not crazy, right?" Tim asked very suddenly. Before you could ask "What?" out of confusion, he looked up at you. "I'm not crazy, right? You don't think I'm a psychopath or anything?" he asked. He looked like he was frazzled, like his last wits will be spent and he'd ball and hyperventilate if you didn't answer in time. "No," you answered quickly.

"No. No, Tim. I don't think you're crazy. Not at all." you responded and you carefully held his face in your hands. "You aren't a psychopath and you're not crazy. You just... have a lot going on." you explained. "You have a lot of things going on and you don't fully understand it." .

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he trembled out. "I just want to be normal. Why does this have to happen to me?" Tim cried. You went back to holding him tightly and ran you hand through his hair. You muttered "I know." and the past phrases of "It's okay." "I'm here." as you kissed which ever part of his head you could reach and gently shushing as he wept.

You don't know how long you stayed there holding, muttering to, and kissing him, but at some point you stopped for a moment and realize that he had fallen asleep, probably having weeped himself into exhaustion. Even then you didn't stop holding him. You just did your best to position the two of you so you could lay on the couch and let yourself fall asleep. The bed that you were originally about to fall asleep in before he came didn't matter anymore. Tim was far more important than that. Tim is more important than just about everything in your book.

#slenderverse #marble hornets #mh tim #tim wright #slenderverse x reader #marble hornets x reader #mh tim x reader #hurt comfort

[marchtothefuckingsea]

Ace of Clubs: Chapter X

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Canon violence (if any).

Sleep is good, death is better; but of course, the best thing would to have never been born at all.

I slumped back into the seat of my car with a frustrated sigh, combing my hair back. I had spent the last several days hunting down apartments to look at, but to no avail. There were none located in safer places of town, and so I couldn't find one that Renard would be remotely approving of.

What was I thinking? Why did I care if he approved of it or not? He didn't even have to know where I lived. I shook my head at my train of thought, turning the key to the ignition and heading for the precinct. 

Nick looked up as I walked into the cafe, a slight limp still in my step. I sat in the booth beside Hank, making myself comfortable.

"How's the apartment hunting going?" Hank asked.

"Amazing." I answered sarcastically.

"How are you and Juliet doing?" I asked Nick. I hadn't met her yet– for concern of confusing her while she recovered her memory– but Nick had explained the whole situation to me.

"It's getting better." He answered shortly. I didn't pry.

"So," I started, changing the subject. "What's on your plate for today?" 

"Not much.Writing up the forms for a couple cases."

"So you don't need me, then. Damn." I joked.

"Get out of here." Hank bantered back. 

"I can help from the office!" I retorted lightheartedly. 

"Yeah I-" Nick started to answer. Gunshots suddenly sounded from across the street, and my head shot up, my eyes darting to the two detectives I was sitting with.

"Stay here. Both of you." He added with a glance in my direction, before jogging out of the cafe. 

"I'll call it in." I looked to Hank, hesitantly standing out of the seat.

"Sorry." I apologized, following in Nick's footsteps at a quick, limping pace.

By the time I had made it to the bookstore, only the dead body of an author was to be found. I glanced at him quickly, before jogging out to an outdoor staircase. I found Nick running to look over the railing as a sleek, brown-furred creature dove off and splashed into the river. He turned as I approached, frowning at me but saying nothing.

"What was that??" 

"I don't know." The grimm's frown deepened. 

"A bird?" I questioned, falling into step beside him as he walked slowly back to the bookstore, processing what happened.

"A fish? Frog?" He shook his head.

"It had fur, right? I caught that." He nodded, still silent.

My brain suddenly clicked. "An otter?" He stopped in his tracks.

"Maybe..Maybe." He muttered.

By the time we made it back to the crime scene, Hank was there, questioning a Khloe Sedgwick; A witness, apparently. She looked up at Nick as we approached the two of them. Hank introduced us.

"Did you know the victim?" He questioned her.

"He's my boyfriend." She said nervously, even though she had a charming, almost alluring aura to her. 

"Anton, my ex, he's the one who killed him." She paused, something about her suddenly changing as she stepped closer to Nick.

"That's all we need for now, thank you."

 "You saved me, thank you." She took his hand in hers, raising it to her lips and touched a kiss to his knuckles. As she turned away, Nick made a face. 

"Interesting." I followed the two detectives out of the building.

"To say the least." Hank added. "So we're thinking jealous ex?"

"He was wesen." 

"That doesn't change anything."

"Was she wesen?" Hank intercepted.

"Not that I could see. She didn't woge." Nick looked to me, and I shook my head in agreement.

"Nothing." 

"Shit." I suddenly looked to my phone, checking the time. "I have another place to look at today, sorry." 

"Have fun." Nick said. I rolled my eyes.

 "Thanks." 

"There's two bedrooms and a bath, and this lovely little living area." The landlady gave me the details of the apartment. I nodded along politely, shoving my hands in the pockets of my trench coat. Something felt way off, but I couldn't figure out what. I shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, following her into the next room–the kitchen–and she gestured around to everything in it. 

"The previous tenant left in such a hurry, so most of everything you need to get started should be in here." She explained. I nodded again. I just wanted to get out of here without being too rude. I followed her back into the living room, a picture by the TV catching my eye. I picked it up carefully.

The old woman appeared behind me, quickly snatching the photo out of my hand with a strained smile. I narrowed my eyes at her suspiciously as I noticed her begin to woge. "Is that the previous tenant?" 

"It is. As I said, he did leave in a hurry." 

"And why was that?" I began to interrogate her, edging towards the door. The knot in my stomach grew.

"I don't know." She shrugged apologetically. "He just up and left. I didn't even realize until I came to collect the rent that was due, and he didn't answer."

"What are you?" I asked her.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"I said, what are you?" She woged, cocking her head to the side. "An alpe." I hissed at her.

"I'm not afraid of a grimm." She growled, tackling me. I would never get used to how much stronger old people were in their wesen form, as if their age didn't even matter once they woged. 

"Fuck off, parasite." I rolled on top of her, straddling her with my knife pressed to her throat. She returned to her human form, once again an old lady. I narrowed my eyes at her show of weakness, knowing how quickly she could turn again. 

"I'll be keeping an eye on you." I hissed, climbing unsteadily to my feet and limping out of the battered apartment. I slumped into the seat of my car with a sigh. I wasn't in the mood to kill anyone today, I just wanted to find somewhere to live.

 Walking into the precinct and glancing around,  I didn't see Nick or Hank. It wasn't unusual; it was getting late, and people were heading home, but usually the two of them were still there.  I headed into the Captain's office, where he was just finished up a phone call.

"Sorry." I smiled apologetically. 

"You're fine. What's going on?" 

"Where's Nick? And Hank?"

"They're looking into that case from this morning." He suddenly frowned, his eyes scanning my face. 

"What's that?" He asked, gesturing to his own forehead.

"What?" I touched my hand to my forehead, and it came back with quite a bit of blood on it. I looked at it in surprise, quickly glancing at my reflection in the window. Blood trickled down the side of my face and matted to a small portion of my hairline. 

"What happened? Don't tell me you've been getting involved with cases again." 

"Not purposely, no. " I frowned, turning back to him. "I was just looking at apartments." He raised an eyebrow at me, skeptical.

"What can I say, trouble finds me wherever I go." I shrugged, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I can't argue with that." He sighed. "Find any places?" 

"Not really. Sorry, I just..I want to find somewhere safer this time. I really didn't mean to intrude this long, it's already been three weeks now." I apologized quickly. "I'm really overstaying my welcome, aren't I?" I asked, more to myself than him.

"No, take your time. If you can't find somewhere that you're sure is safe, I don't want you to be in danger just because you think you're intruding. You're not. I don't mind having you around." He admitted. 

"I know, you keep telling me that. It's just been kind of tough. I'm not used to relying on someone. I mean- I keep saying that too, I guess." I laughed nervously. 

"You have people now." He told me, resting his hands on my shoulders. "You've got plenty of people to rely on. I'll keep reminding you of that as long as it takes." 

I leaned into him unconsciously before he pulled me into a hug. It took me a moment to return it, but I did, wrapping my arms around him tightly. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft. He gave me a nod, and I offered him a small smile in return. 

"I'm going to look at what they have filed down really quick." I said.

"I don't think there's much, but go ahead."

"There's another case I want to look at, too. An old one."  He nodded, glancing back to his paperwork. 

I went to Nick's desk, rifling through the papers he had on top. Renard was right, there wasn't much down about the case, but there was a drawing of a wesen that looked like an otter, as I had suggested to him before. A sketch of a woman caught my eye, torn from the notepad and tucked between the case files. I picked it up curiously, recognizing the witness from this morning. 

A strange weight settled in my chest. I quickly dialed Nick's number, bouncing my leg impatiently as I waited for him to answer. Nothing. I called Hank, finally receiving an answer.

"Ace?" 

"Is Nick with you?" I asked urgently.

"No, why?"

"When was the last time you saw him?" 

"We went to the victim's apartment with Wu, found a bunch of weird drawings. He's supposed to be having dinner with Juliet. What's going on?" That let put my mind at ease, just the slightest bit, even though the brick in my chest was still heavy.

"He's not picking up- look, I just got this weird feeling. You know the witness from the crime scene this morning? The one that you questioned?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"That's it, I don't know. Something just feels off about it. You know what? I'm sure it's nothing. Sorry." I hung up quickly, trying to brush it off. I didn't want to stress Hank out when he was supposed to be healing his leg.

His words did little to put me at ease, but I tried

to dismiss the feeling. My hands itched to check in with Monroe, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of what was probably just paranoia on my part. I did my best to focus on the paperwork in front of me as I shuffled through more of the documents. 

I was curious as to what the detectives had put down for the other wesen cases, especially the ones where Nick had used things only a grimm–or someone who knew about wesen, at the very least–could find. The way he juggled the whole grimm thing, along with his detective job, and still managed to combine the two was impressive.

I blinked hard, suddenly finding my eyes much heavier than they were…some time ago. I glanced up at the clock, then at the book I had pulled out of my bag at some point.. I sighed tiredly at the time.

"Just one more." I mumbled, turning the page. I blinked several times again, my eyes fighting to focus. I read the page about the musai with a tired curiosity. Some of it oddly reminded me of something, or someone, but I just couldn't quite place my tired finger on it. My finger twitched as I tried to turn the page.

"Ace." I groaned in complaint at the hand on my shoulder, curling my arms around my face. The hand shook me gently and I suddenly awoke with a start, my head snapping up to the source of the voice.

"What?" I sat up, quickly blinking the sleep from my eyes and hastily getting to my feet. I wobbled slightly as I gathered the book into my bag.

"Nothing, it's late, that's all." He said softly, eyeing me in concern. 

"I didn't mean to- I didn't realize." I cut myself off. 

"It's fine. I'm heading out. I can wait for you if you want." He told me. 

"I'll be right behind you." I called after him.

 As I walked back to my car, I squinted, noticing a small paper tucked under the windshield wipers, the whiteness of the paper almost glowing eerily beneath the streetlight.

"A parking ticket, at the precinct of all places…" I muttered under my breath, snagging the paper and beginning to crumple it into a ball, when I noticed it was a sticky note. I flattened it out again, revealing a drawing of a scythe in black marker.

"Not again."

#grimm #nbc grimm #nbc #grimm nbc #grimm x reader #nbc grimm x reader #grimm fanfiction #nbc grimm fanfiction #nbc grimm oneshot #grimm imagine #grimm whump #sean renard #sean renard x reader #sean renard x oc #sean renard fanfiction #sean renard oneshot #sean renard imagine #sean renard whump #sasha roiz #sasha roiz x reader #angst #fulff #whump #hurt/comfort #nick burkhardt #nick burkhardt x reader #nick burkhardt whump

[jackzillanyanut8008]

The Last Of Us Part 3: Fan Write (Part 10)

Author’s Note:

This fan write of the 3rd addition to The Last Of Us franchise is completely fan made, I own zero rights to the game, tv show, or merchandise. Any and all properties of this franchise are owned by Naughty Dog Studios, Sony Computer Entertainment, Sony Interactive Entertainment, and PlayStation Studios. And of course, please support both the previous games, as well as the HBO series.

-Stone CL Williams

PS: Thank you to those of you who've read this Fan Write up to this point, I never intended on this being a prolonged thing but here we are. So thanks for reading!

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

Chapter 28: A Forgotten Fury

Samson sat in his room, looking at the portrait of his father as he took a heaping gulp of vodka down his throat. “Dad… Wherever the fuck you are… Could you give me a sign?” he whispers to himself, hoping the painting would spring to life and give him his much needed wisdom, but nothing happens.

Suddenly, Pito enters his room, panting repeatedly like a rabid dog. “Samson… Shiva and Gunji were attacked… the slaves escaped… they-” he says panting before Sam turns around “Where’s Shiva?” he says, a bit of worry in his voice. Pito shakes his head before getting pushed out of the way by Samson.

No no no no no no Sam mutters in his head as he rushes to the infirmary. He kicks in the door and almost falls at the sight of his comrades.

Gunji had two stab wounds in his stomach, and another on his left cheek.

Then he looked at his beloved Shiva and felt his stomach drop to his feet. “She’s alive but she has sustained major physical trauma and won’t recover for a long time” a medic says as she looks at the War Queen in pity.

Samson sits next to his wife, caressing her bandaged head before softly crying into his hand…

Back in Jackson, Ellie struggles to play her guitar with her prosthetic fingers she got from Dina. She was making progress, sort of. She looks out from Dina’s porch and sees Abby walk up onto the porch “For a chick with two missing fingers, you’re not half bad” she says as she holds up a bottle of booze and sits down. “Did any of the wolves play any instruments? Or were you all too strict and rugged for such pompous pleasantries” Ellie asks jokingly as she takes a swig of the brew, and wincing at the taste of it. Abby laughs and grabs the bottle from her “Now that you mention it, a friend of mine used to. Manny” she says, looking at the bottle. “Whatever happened to him anyhow? I never ran into him” Ellie says as she puts the guitar down. Abby looks out into the dark streets of Jackson and lets out a sigh “He got his head blown off trying to help me get Tommy” she says as she lifts up her glass. “Godspeed you son of a bitch” Abby toasts before taking a swig and leaning back in the chair.

“I better get inside, Dina says I’m on baby duty tonight” Ellie says as she gets up. Abby lets out a chuckle “From gutting Seraphites to changing diapers, oh how modernity changes us” she says jokingly. Ellie lets out a soft laugh before heading inside, “Wait a minute Ellie” Abby says before she shuts the door

“Yeah, what is it?” Ellie asks

Chapter 29: Making Peace for the Better

Abby freezes up for a minute before clearing her throat. “Why did you spare me back in Santa Barbara? I was right there, you could’ve gotten your vengeance… but you backed out” she says, scratching the back of her head nervously. Ellie lets out a sigh before walking back out and shutting the door “Before I spared you, I saw Joel. The night before he died” she begins as she and Abby sit down. “He wasn’t angry or mad, just… happy. I’ll admit Joel has done some stupid shit but killing your dad was probably the stupidest thing he ever did. I guess he kinda knew it was his time.” Ellie says as she looks out at the night sky.

Abby stares at the stars “Do you think those FO fuckers will come back? After everything we did?” she says worryingly. Ellie sits in silence before getting up “They’ll have to get through us to get to our people” she says as she looks at Abby and holds out her hand.

Abby is a little confused, but Ellie elaborates “Neither of us were right for what we did, but we can try to make up for it. Try to be better for those we care about” she says “So how’s about it Anderson? Are we even?”.

Abby lets out a snicker before shaking Ellie’s hand, “Sweet dreams Williams, tell Dina I said hi”.

Ellie laughs a little before giving Abby a thumbs up and shutting the door. Abby walks off into the night and heads home where Deacon and Lev are staying. Both were watching an old comedy movie from before the Outbreak, something about laser sword rings and a floating RV. The other two offer her to join them but Abby refuses, instead heading upstairs to get some much needed rest.

Deacon shrugs off Abby's refusal to join them in movie night and lets Deacon shrugs off Abby's refusal to join them in movie night and lets out a sigh. "What's up with you? You seem... oddly relaxed given everything that happened back in Colorado. Are you sure you're okay?" Lev asks as he eats a handful of popcorn. Deacon looks at him for a moment before letting out a snicker "It's nothing, just figured Abby would wanna hang out with us is all. Oh well, her loss I guess" he says, dismissing Lev's concern. Lev gives him a look of uncertainty before giving it a rest "If you need anyone to talk to about it, me and Abby are more than happy to hear you out D" He says as he gets up to leave. Deacon looks up at him "You too huh? Guess Sci-Fi Comedies are an acquired taste these days" he says as he turns off the tv and goes to bed "Goodnight Lev". Lev looks back at his friend and gives him a smile "Goodnight D, See you tomorrow".

Deacon looks at him for a moment before letting out a snicker "It's nothing, just figured Abby would wanna hang out with us is all. Oh well, her loss I guess" he says, dismissing Lev's concern.

Lev gives him a look of uncertainty before giving it a rest "If you need anyone to talk to about it, me and Abby are more than happy to hear you out D" He says as he gets up to leave.

Deacon looks up at him "You too huh? Guess Sci-Fi Comedies are an aquired taste these days" he says as he turns off the tv and goes to bed "Goodnight Lev".

Lev looks back at his friend and gives him a smile "Goodnight D, See you tomarrow".

(Sorry for taking so long to upload, between Easter and other stuff I've been pretty preoccupied. Also school, work, etc.)

#the last of us #abby the last of us #ellie tlou #lev tlou #tommy miller #joel miller #dina tlou #last of us fanfiction

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Cruel intentions | chapter three

summary: liz fucking allen now seems to be the least of your problems, you just don't understand why peter likes physical touch so much. either way he can do a mean detective wall.

warnings: this chapter is chill, allusion to violence.

authors note: I WANT TO GIVE RAQUEL A SPECIAL THANK YOU FOR BEING MY FIRST SUPPORTER ON KO-FI!! THANK YOU SO SO MUCH, YOU'VE MADE MY DAY.

listen to:  Bad Liar -Selena Gomez | Baby - Madison Bear (playlist here)

word count: 2k

series masterlist + read next chapter early on ko-fi!!

You arrived to Stark Tower later, very frustrated from how everything had developed but you still had a small glimpse of hope regarding Peter Parker. 

You’d agreed with Gwen that she would talk with a girl named MJ, apparently Peter’s best friend. She would talk about how you were an incredible respectful and not manipulative at all person. You chuckled at the thought of someone saying that after the last few years you’d had. 

Moreover, you had more important things that you had to be concern about, like fucking Liz Allen. Liz Allen and you barely knew each other, mostly because of the legal proceedings that happened regarding her dad. You still weren’t sure exactly what had happened since you’d been on a coma during the time that Spiderman and your dad caught Liz’s dad or, as many people called him, Vulture. 

Apparently, what you had gather from Harley and Pepper, Tony had agreed to keep the trial and everything completely confidential so Liz’ family could be protected and not face the consequences of what her father had done. A handful of people knew about this and the true identity of the Vulture, even you. 

Liz went to Stark Tower one day, you were still recovering so you were taking classes in one of the many conference rooms, she walked in and you talked for a bit. It wasn’t much and you didn’t even remember what exactly the few words you exchange were about but you winced as you recalled how your attitude was. In your defense you were depressed after how everything had gone down with Steve and Tony, your suit had been taken away and long story short it was a bad time. 

So, you were aware that maybe you weren’t exactly the nicest person to her.  

And karma had come to get you three years later. 

Nonetheless, if karma was a bitch, you knew you were one too. Gwen had told you about a party that night, Midtown alumni were throwing it and she was sure that Peter and his friends were going to be there, even Liz Allen. The only thing was that you needed to get invited by Peter, otherwise it would be extremely weird that Gwen, someone that had never even mentioned you to them, would invite you.

Therefore, as you entered the elevator you pressed the botton to the lab floors, you tried to make yourself more presentable than before as you applied mascara as fast as you could before the doors opened. You gave almost two steps on the hallway before you found Peter, Harley and Tony all gathered in Tony’s lab. 

There were pieces off nanotech all over the floor with multiple holograms of the suit and some of Tony’s newest accessories. Your dad never laid off from the suits, there was always something that could be improved and you were the same. 

“Hey,” you muttered from the frame of the door while clutching your the strip of your bag tightly, realizing that you were a bit more anxious than what you expected.

“Hey,” Harley and Tony muttered at the same time with their characteristic touches. Harley was uninterest but a bit curious on why you found yourself there, whilst Tony’s tone -as always- was extremely cautious, as if he was about to disarm a bomb that had found it’s way to the lab. 

You tried not to mind, but then Peter finally raised his head from whatever he was looking at and his face lighted up. 

“Hi!” He exclaimed with a side smirk that he wore so well, brunnette curls falling to his forehead and you swore that your heart skipped a bit.

You’d come to realize that Peter Parker always seemed to be in a good mood, the few times that you’d found your way to him, or honeslty force your encounters with him. And life seemed so gray sometimes that it was actually nice to see something different

Someone different. 

Your words died down in your throat before you had a chance to give an appropiate answer, instead you just smiled while looking at Peter, as if it was a true answer, but Tony’s voice snapped you out of Peter’s chocolate eyes. 

“I can’t believe that I’ve seen you more times in the lab in the past few weeks than in the last two years,” Tony muttered uneasily and as if it was a reflex you rolled your eyes at the remark. Before you could give your dad any snarky comment, Peter walked up to you and his scent invaded your space. 

You both stood awkwardly in the frame of the door, at the edge between the lab and the hallway, not being sure were to move. A giggle barely escaped your lips as you didn’t missed the smirked that tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped on the hallway, and yet he didn’t move. 

“It must be someone that’s bringing her here,” Harley answer to Tony as he nudge his head towards were Peter was and you immediately wanted to die. Before you even realize your movements, you took a screwdriver from Peter’s hand and threw it towards Harley, hitting hit on his right hand as he cursed loudly. 

You smiled as you turned towards Peter. “So, you were going to?” you asked him as you place your hair behind your ear, as if Peter hadn’t notice Harley cursing in pain. 

“Uhm, to my lab,” Peter said as he peeled his eyes off Harley on the floor and linked them with yours. “I have to bring something.”

“Right,” you said while playing with your fingers. Silence settled between you while you stood on the hallway, you bit your inner cheek as you waited for an answer but as Peter looked at you, you realized that he didn’t have a clue on what you were asking. The words of Harry rumbled on your head, did this kid had any game? “I haven’t had the chance to see it,” you muttered again. 

A couple more beats of silcence passed before Peter reacted. 

“Oh, you want to?”

“Sure,” you said with a smile and walked toward Peter’s lab by his side. 

Peter entered it first as he asked his AI, who he had named Karen, to let you in. You thanked the AI -as you’d done since an early age to each one of your AI’s although Harry believed it was quite stupid- before stepping onto the lab.

Some people believed that the eyes were the windows to someone’s heart but for you it was their labs. You could know someone by the way they organized their lab. Your dad’s labs were mostly a demonstration of his big dick energy. It had multiple screens that were surrounding a metal pallet were Tony would place his suits, other screens could be find in all the other places your dad probably needed them. Most importantly, the lab had a exhibit section for his suits and also sometimes he liked to decorate his labs with images of himself. 

Harley’s lab on the other hand was fun but also extremely organized in an efficient way, it wasn’t a mess but it had posters on the wall coming from the biggest scientist that he admire the most to Gorillaz and David Bowie posters. He had his lab divided into sections from where all of his screens were to his mechanic section where he would build things and another section to play videogames or listen to music, even play the drumbs. 

And then there was Peter Parker’s lab. Everything was fairly new but it was already different than the others. It was darker than the other labs and dimly light, there a was a section full with screens that seemed to cover all the wall and surround Peter, whilst to the right there was a long table with multiple things, from chemistry tools to multiple physics and biochemistry books and even a sewing machine which you didn’t understand. 

And then there was a wall. 

Over it, there was something you could just assume it was a Detective Wall. You’d seen Tony’s and the files the Avengers made but this was so much more crafty and unhinged that you ever seen. You found it strangely comforting because your detective walls were often as unhinged as this one, although you  made them on your holograms so you wouldn’t cause a mess on your space and you could carry it with you anywhere. 

But Peter seemed to have it on display, there weren’t any names or significant photos, and if there was anything like that they were crossed out, there were just some peculiar spots in a map of New York. Some familiar spots that you’d been going to during your extracurricular activities. 

Was he following you? No, there was no way that just by gazing at some modifications that you were doing he could’ve known what you were actually doing at night. 

Your mind was suddenly interrupted by a high pitch clink coming from where Peter was, you snapped your head towards him only to realize he was eyeing you with wariness. 

“So, how are you?” you asked Peter as he took some of the things on his hands and placed them in the large desk next to you before he took the eraser and deleted some equations that he had on a board next to his detective wall.You glanced at the equations, some which you found strange but you tried not to pay much attention to them. 

“No, how are you?” He replied finally turning to you. His eyes were glued to your face, not backing down and there was a sense of something stronger in his words. 

“I’m fine,” you lied as you stare back at Peter. Hoping the eye contact may dissuade him from asking more questions that you didn’t want to answer. 

But Peter didn’t backed down. 

You avoided eye contact until the air cleared and became deathly silent, then you turned to Peter. Something felt different. It wasn’t awkward, but not calm either. There was a tension that held your body hostage, frozen in place with no sign of escaping as Peter Parker walked up to you and  raised his hand towards your shoulder. 

You felt your breathing hitching as his skin made contact with your clothed skin, he had barely actually touched you yet you could feel goosebumps already erupting all over your body. Your eyes fell on his hand and then back to his eyes, only to have him looking at you with softness and as if he had asked them with words, he asked for permission. 

You didn’t understand what he wanted, and part of you wondered if the hint of gleaming he had on his eyes was lust. 

It wasn’t. 

It was something much more intimate than what you’d felt before. 

Soon, Peter took a hold of your cardigan and uncovered your shoulder. It was a matter of seconds before his eyes fell onto your purple skin and you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your heart as his fingers brushed the dark spot on your skin. He doesn’t say anything to further the conversation. He just stares. He’s lost in his head, chocolate eyes stuck on the very nasty bruise that had colored a large section of your skin. 

And then he spoke. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me something?” Peter’s voice was stern but still a bit wobbly, his breathing was heavier as his eyes look back at you with concern. 

And suddenly, you felt like you were drowning. 

In one sudden motion you jerked away from Peter and his touch before you were pulling your cardigan back at it’s place, hiding the bluish red spot from anyone’s sight. You spun on your heels and in record time you were already on the hallway, walking away from Peter, walking away from the strange and horrible tingle that you were feeling all over your body. 

You sucked in a large breath and quickly let it out before you were trying to call the elevator as quickly as you could. All your energy was essentially shot, you only felt the strange tingle all over your body and your hands were already shaking, you knew the feeling and the shortness of breath wouldn’t take long to come. 

Had Peter’s action trigger a panic attack?

But then you felt Peter’s hand on yours, and you turned around. You felt as thought you were jumping into a cool spring water. His presence alone was making you nervous but the more you looked into his eyes, something soothed you. 

You didn’t rush to say anything but he did. 

“Y/N, come on,” he muttered while still holding your hand.  “You’re clearly upset and i’m not the asshole who pretends not to notice. Are you truly okay?” he asked once more and you felt like breaking down. 

There was something about Peter Parker that you ofted didn’t found in anyone and that was sincerity. He was truly concern about you, even if you had met a handful of times, he truly wanted to make sure that you were okay. This stranger seemed to be more concern for your safety and wellbeing than some of what you guessed were your closest friends. You realized that no one had actually asked you that in years, at least not with the same honesty as Peter Parker was displaying at the moment. Many simply assumed that you weren’t okay or that you would snap at such question, but they didn’t seem to care. 

Peter did. 

“I’m not fine,” you finally muttered honestly and you could feel the tears dwelling on your eyes. 

“Hey,” Peter mumbled before he was pulling you forward so you stumble into his chest before wrapping his arms around you.  

You didn’t react immediately because it had been a while since someone that you weren’t particularly close to you was hugging you, which you found it annoying for a second. You didn’t understood Peter’s need for physical touch but at the moment you truly appreciate it, and soon you were wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. 

You felt Peter smiling at the crook of your neck. “Don’t be,” he replied. 

“Yeah, I just cried in front of someone I don’t really know,”

Peter chuckled before he was pulling back.“You seem a little bit uptight, you know that?” he asked before you were frowning immediately. “What? I’m just saying that you look stressed out”

“Well I am,” you muttered while you crossed your arms over your chest with a raise brow. 

“How about a party? To relax?” Peter asked and you felt your stomach dropping. 

You hadn’t even started with your plan for making Peter invite you and yet here you were. 

“Tonight?”

Peter nodded as he placed a hand on the back of his neck.  “Yeah, me and some friends from my school are going out, would you like to come?”

“Uhm, yeah” You stuttered before smiling. “Text me the address?” you pointed out before you called the elevator again. 

“No way, I’ll pick you.” Peter stated seriously. 

“Oh,” you muttered before realizing Peter’s cheeks were turning pink. 

“At seven?”

“Sure,” 

“Okay?”

“Yeah,”

Suddenly, Tony’s head peaked out of his lab and his eyes fell on both of you, wariness drawn in his whole face. You didn’t quite understood your dad’s aversion at your friendship, did he really think that you would mess with Peter?

“Y/N, stop distracting Peter,” He stated before he looked at Peter with a frown. “Come on, underoos!” 

Peter nodded in a hurry before he was walking away to the lab while you entered the elevator. 

Your plan was on track and you were strangely happy about it.

***

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll @hoetel-manager @pbeckn26

authors note: im actually floored that someone actually supported me on KO-FI!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH. AND SORRY THIS IS GOING TO BE A SLOWBURN. lmk what you think and I always always appreciate feedback. moreover i would appreciate a bunch if you supported me on ko-fi even one dollar makes the difference! thank you so much!

feedback is always welcomed

donate: help me with my laptop?

also maybe soon available on wattpad?

#spiderman series #spiderman headcanon #peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker headcanon #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker series #peter parker angst #peter parker smut #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x stark!daughter #peter parker x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #cruel intentions #peter parker and reader #peter parker au #peter parker blurb #peter parker college au #peter parker cute #peter parker comfort #peter parker drabble #peter parker spiderman #peter parker masterlist #peter parker mcu

[littlemisspascal]

The Infinity Cube Part 1

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Side Pairings: Female Reader x Multiple Pedro Characters

Word Count: 1000+

Series Summary:  When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Warnings for the chapter: Language, fluff, confusion, fictional FBI procedures, no beta all mistakes are mine

Author Note: I love alternate realities and once I had this idea I thought it’d be fun to try and bring it to life. This fic is going to be extremely self-indulgent, but fingers crossed somebody out there will enjoy it too 💗

PART 2

You may not look it—bobbing your head along to the One Direction song blaring from your computer, shamelessly mouthing the lyrics—but you take your job quite seriously. You spend eighty percent of your day in the FBI’s collection of recovered museum artifacts and paintings, examining the items with careful, gloved hands and a pair of specially designed spectacles hanging from a chain around your neck.

You’ve worked as an archivist for the FBI’s art crime division for a little over a year. You spend your days cataloging, organizing, and filling out reports. It’s tedious work, but if not for this job you never would have met your boyfriend, Marcus Pike, one of the twenty agents in the division. As far as you’re concerned, the perks far outweigh the flaws.

“Hey, Specs, you ready to head home?”

You look up from your computer, locking eyes with Marcus standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in his usual dark blue suit, but after a long day’s work his dark hair has been ruffled by restless fingers, striped tie hanging undone around his neck, and overall looking eager to cuddle on the couch in your apartment and watch a Netflix documentary.

“Almost, Brown Eyes. Five more minutes.”

“Alright,” he says simply, nodding his head. He grins then, a heart-melting smile that never fails to unleash butterflies in your stomach. “How about I check if there’s any strawberry cheesecake left in the cafeteria?”

“Well,” you pretend to think about it, tapping your chin playfully, “it’d be a shame for something so delicious to go to waste.”

“You read my mind, sweetheart.”

He heads off towards the cafeteria and you shake your head at his antics, a soft, lovesick smile pulling at your lips. You’ve been dating Marcus for six months, but you’d been helplessly falling for him ever since your first month on the job when he started bringing you coffee in the mornings, stopping by to chat with you--sometimes bringing items for you to archive, sometimes just because he wanted to say hello--and offering to walk you to your car when you both were working late nights. You didn’t realize all his efforts had been his attempts at flirting until the bureau’s New Year’s Eve party when he’d admitted he liked you after one too many sips of champagne loosed his tongue.

You’ve never been happier than when you’re with him. It’s sappy as fuck to admit such a thing, but it’s true. Marcus makes you laugh and knows to give you space when you’re upset. He challenges you to take risks and supports you whether things go right or wrong. Most importantly though, he makes you want to be the best version of yourself. 

You turn to shut off your computer, only to stop when your eyes land on your workbench. Two days ago Marcus and his team had determined the location of a warehouse being used to traffic stolen artifacts, including marble statues and ancient pottery. You’re still working on examining all the contents of the haul, but one item stands out as especially unique compared to the others.

It’s oddly similar to a Rubik’s Cube. Same size, shape, and interlocking pieces. Except it’s entirely made of a type of golden metal you’ve yet to identify and it has strange symbols resembling hearts engraved in its sides instead of colored plastic panels. 

You pick up the cube and it's heavy in the palm of your hand, shining faintly beneath the overhead lights. Your eyes linger on the six different heart symbols: a broken heart; a heart with an arrow piercing it; a pair of hearts intertwined; a heart with a keyhole; a striped heart; and a heart entirely devoid of any pattern or accessory, simple and plain. You grew up loving puzzles, reading every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys book you could get your hands on, and seeing the scrambled symbols has the gears in your brain turning.

“Doesn’t seem so difficult,” you say to yourself, a thrill of excitement shooting down your spine. You grab the top layer and twist it counterclockwise until you hear a quiet click of the piece locking into place and—

The walls of your office spin dizzyingly, colors blurring as if you’d stepped onto a tilt-a-whirl. For a split second you’re certain you’re going to be sick, stomach performing nauseating cartwheels, and then everything goes still once more. You stumble sideways, panting harshly from the sheer shock of it all.

“Oh, kriff,” you wheeze.

And then immediately wonder what the fuck does that even mean? The curse slipped off your tongue easily like you’ve grown up saying it, but you know that’s not true. 

...Right? 

Your unease increases tenfold when you realize you’re not in your office anymore. Looking around, your brain struggles to make sense of all the unfamiliar details: an abundance of crates covered in netting, a storage locker attached to the wall, the weirdest toiled you’ve ever seen in your life, and a ladder with—oh kriff—someone climbing down it.

The stranger drops down onto the floor with a resounding thud as his boots hit the metal. He turns to you, revealing a broad body clad in dark silver armor and a matching helmet covering his whole head. On his hip you notice a holstered, futuristic-looking pistol. 

Blaster, a voice quietly corrects somewhere in the back of your mind, freaking you out.

“There you are, cyar’ika,” he says, and you think you detect a note of relief intertwined within his modulated voice. His head tilts, somehow managing to radiate concern without a visible expression. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

Your heart does a funny thing in your chest, but you pay it little attention because you know that baritone voice. You know it in the mornings while eating granola bars and sipping cups of coffee. You know it when it’s full of laughter after you’ve told a dumb joke and when it’s arguing over a bad decision your superiors made. You know it sweetly when it compliments you and intimately when it says your name between kisses.

Marcus, you mean to say.

But what comes out of your mouth instead is, “Din.”

Permanent Taglist: @promiscuoussatan @vintagesaph @over300books @chibi-yuki @theocatkov @oh-no-a-whovian @freeshavocadoooo @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @lin-djarin @happiestsparkleofall @randomness501 @gallowsjoker @absurdthirst @captain-jebi​ @leilei-draws @coaaster @pointy-sharp @stilllivindue2spite @melobee @artsymaddie @disgruntledspacedad @waywardmando @thisshipwillsail316 @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @grogusmum @asta-lily @sherala007 @mejswho @uncle-kenobi @tacticalsparkles @cannedsoupsucks @mandocrasis @pedro4ever @littlebopper96 @you-got-me-starry-eyed @kiss-evans @writeforfandoms @pbeatriz @anaaaispunk @tobealostwanderer @recklessworry @pumpkin-stars @stevie75 @dumb-npc @roxypeanut @justnat15 @tintinn16 @princess76179 @grumpymuffinmama​ 

#Marcus Pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the infinity cube #my fic #my writing #pedrostories #pedro pascal character fanfiction

[softykooky]

sanctuary: seven

summary: the absence of you is a void that they never thought they’d have to experience again. they were fine before they met you. but the sky would fall before the boys would be fine after you’ve gone. 8.03k words.

genre: mafia au, ANGST, poly au

pairing: ot7 x reader

warnings (READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION) :  toxic and dysfunctional familial relationships, mentions of domestic abuse (physical and verbal), swearing, ptsd & trauma, poor mental health, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, eating problems, alcohol abuse, abandonment issues...

rating: NC17

author’s note: okay I lied there’s going to be another part! I just couldn’t fit all that I wanted and I figured it was better to give you guys something now instead of making you wait another century for me to wrap up the story. please let me know if I forgot anyone in the taglist! please let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

♡ series masterpost ♡ 

Just leave.

Just leave.

Just leave.

Like a cruel rhythm or a drum that keeps on beating in your chest to remind you of the pain that rips through your heart. 

You’re such a fool, Y/N. 

Should you blame them for growing tired of you? Even snapping at you like they did, or did you deserve it? It was so easy for you to wither back into the mindset your father had trained you to adapt at the slightest intrusion. Now, after that massacre in the kitchen with the people you trusted with your whole being, you weren’t sure if it was possible to think otherwise. 

Through the warm tears that have clouded your eyes, frantically stuffing the little belongings you have into a backpack is otherworldly difficult. Your heart hurts. Your soul hurts. Your entire being hurts and you can only wonder how many times a person can be pushed aside and unwanted until they just completely break. You wonder how close you are to that point. 

There’s anger running through your veins, cocktailed with devastation and confusion, but you’re not sure what it is you’re angry at. Were you angry at them? Could you ever be angry at them, even after they did something like this? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, but that wasn’t important. 

There was one objective in sight: pack up and get the hell out before you let anyone else completely destroy you. 

But even then, you can’t help but to think about how they hadn’t even bothered to come after you. None of them did. And it ignites a different fire of pain that you’re finding harder to ignore. You’re halfway through shoving your shirts into the backpack when a soft voice sounds from your doorway. Jun is standing there, fiddling with her apron and warm sympathy on her face. 

“Y/N, sweetie, they’re just...maybe give them some time. Please don’t go”, Jun sighs. 

“No, Jun. They don’t want me here anymore”, your voice cracks at the realization. “I’m not going to stay and be unwanted. I won’t do it again. I-I can’t.”

When the last item is tucked into the pocket of your bag, you swing it onto your shoulder. The weight of the backpack feels as though it’s pulling you deeper into the ground. Like you are sinking and there is nothing you can do but wait until your head is submerged. 

“Jun…” you breathe out, wiping away a warm stray tear, “could you...could you tell them that I’m sorry? I-I’m not sure what for, I guess for everything. But could you just tell them?”

Jun nods solemnly, though the reluctance is clear on her expression. Even she can recognize that you have nothing to apologize for. “I will, honey. Are you sure about this?”

“I have no choice, Jun. I love them and I-” you cut yourself off. 

This is the first time you’ve been able to say it out loud. You love them. You’ve fallen in love with them and the timing could not be worse. But all in all, you consider yourself lucky. There was no way you would have recovered if you confessed and all seven of them inevitably rejected it. Perhaps this fight just saved you the great pain of knowing they cannot love you back. 

“And I need to go.” 

You’d have to leave before dinner. Through the back door.  The one that no one thinks you know about but as always, no man gives you nearly enough credit as you deserve. You’ll tell the guards you’re going out for a walk and pray they don’t question the overstuffed backpack you’re hauling. You’ll just open it and run and…

Find a new home? A new life? Find a new set of souls that will cherish and care for you and make you feel like you’re actually meant to be in this world? 

You love them. That much you know is true. And perhaps people like you weren’t meant to have love in this world. 

“You’re excused, Lee. Be grateful you’re still here.” The venom in Namjoon’s voice remains clear as day, even after your ungraceful departure from the kitchen. You had left so abruptly with so few words that they weren’t able to even try and stop you. 

They still can’t see straight through the searing anger that pulses through their entire being. Anger at the world, and the traitors, and the idiotic rookie that lost them thousands in shipments. 

But the anger at you had faded a long time ago, the moment you bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. However, the boys were nothing if not stubborn. Why did you have to get in the way of their business? Why couldn’t you just remain kept away, for them to keep safe and away from the dangers of the outside world?

Jimin is the first one to make a move to the staircase, up to where you were packing, trying to be stealthy until the leader catches a glance of him. 

“Jimin. Stop. Just let her cool off”, Namjoon sighs, pinching the space between his eyebrows to relieve his tension headache. He was usually the sensible one. The leader of the pack telling everyone to keep their cool. But the load on his shoulders has been getting far too heavy and you were the light breeze that caused it to collapse. 

“You should wait to calm down before you talk to her, anyway. That vein in your forehead might pop out of your skin”, Hoseok snidely remarks. 

Jimin scoffs, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. 

“Everything we’ve been doing has been for her best interest. Why is she making this so difficult?”, he exhales, frustration still licking at every word. But with a mere glance at Jimin, anyone in the room could tell that he truly held no antipathy towards you. That his words were coming from an unresolved pool of anger that had been bubbling away for ages.

“You don’t think she means it, do you?”, Taehyung mutters, eyebrows still creased in intensity. “The leaving part?”

“Where could she go Taehyung? We’re all she has at this point”, Yoongi speaks. A layer of irony coats the room as Yoongi remembers the words he had spat at you in the heat of the moment. A vicious declaration to tell you to leave, and he feels a string of guilt twining itself around his lungs. He numbs it away, of course. As he does everything else. 

Jin takes a deep breath. “Listen, we’re all stressed and sleep-deprived. Why don’t we just calm down separately and talk it over at dinner? I’m sure by then, this whole thing will be completely forgotten.” His words sound sure and steady. Jin hopes they don’t notice the worry that bleeds into his voice. 

A chorus of agreements and hums quietly sound across the room as the seven of them shuffle out of the kitchen and slowly saunter into their respective rooms. And as they tiptoe past your bedroom, where your door was shut tight, the boys can’t help but feel the rationality that has begun to trickle back in. The logic and reason that had abandoned them during the fight had slowly returned, and the thought of you on the other side of that door made them all want to barge in and hold you again. 

Maybe they overreacted. Maybe they were wrong. Pride, however, was a stern mistress, and the potential consequences of their actions hadn’t yet reached their thoughts. They hadn’t realized the poison of their words.

 They would wait a bit longer. 

Everything would be okay after dinner. 

The first thing you realize after leaving is that you chose the wrong pair of shoes to attempt an escape on foot. Of course, you had to be wearing the new ones that the boys just bought you that hadn’t been broken in yet. The heel was digging into your skin painfully, undoubtedly leaving red marks and calluses. Your feet ached with every step, but you had to soldier on. At least until you found somewhere to rest for a bit and figure out where the hell you would go.

 A glance down at your phone has you eternally grateful for your past self for remembering to charge it. Hopefully it would last you until you found somewhere for the time being. 

There was no more family in the country besides your immediate ones. And you’d rather swallow knives than go back to that. The thought of them makes you sad though when you remember Soyeon.

 You wonder how she’s doing. The things she’s been up to. Is she shopping as much as she always does? Is she happy? Does she miss you? The train of thought makes you scoff at your own patheticism. Even after everything, you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You would always love your sister. 

The Bangtan manor hadn’t been as far away from the city as you had thought. On the other hand, you weren’t exactly paying attention to the time. Just let your feet carry you where they wanted to and stared blankly at the passing ground, trying to empty your thoughts as best you could. The sky was beginning to darken and the wind blew a bit colder but you refused to let it slow your pace. You couldn’t let yourself feel. Not yet, anyway. 

The first motel you see is the one you enter. It’s not grand by any means; more of a fixer-upper. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet reeked of age and dust, and the receptionist was chewing gum and scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. The place was a dump compared to what the likes of you tended to live in. But you had limited cash, and this would have to do. 

It takes you three times clearing your throat for her to notice that a customer was at the front desk. 

“Hello. I’d like a room with one bed, please.” 

She doesn’t hide her blatant scrutinization of you, visibly looking you up and down with something akin to disapproval. Her phone is tossed on the counter annoyedly and she snaps her gum, wheeling her chair closer to the computer and clacks away on the keyboard. 

“ID and payment, please”, she drones, holding out a hand without sparing you another glance. When she looks at the card you have placed in her palm, there is a spark of recognition. The Yoo family name. She must have seen your name in the paper or something. The ambassador’s daughter. In a place like this?

You are eternally grateful when the receptionist says nothing; just hands you back your card and dangles a key from her red-nail polished index finger. You two exchange no more words. The only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of the metal key, the padding of your footsteps on soft carpet, and the smacking of the bubblegum between her lips. But it is enough to begin to allow the loneliness in. The fear of it all. The uncertainty and utter devastation that you have left behind the one place that had just started to feel like home. 

When the door of your motel room closes, and it is just you... 

You with the clothes on your back, the necessities in your bag, and all the feelings you have kept bottled up for weeks on end. It is more than easy to collapse in a cathartic heap as soon as the lock clicks in place. 

Who cares if the walls are paper-thin? You scream it out on the undoubtedly dirty floors. The agony of being so close to happiness only to have it ripped away from your hands. The pain of knowing them, only for them to push you out of their lives. 

You don’t weep for anyone else. Not the seven boys you loved, not Soyeon, not your father, not Jun. 

You cry for Y/N. 

You cry for the realization that maybe the thing you’ve been chasing your entire life is simply not in reach. That peace was something you had to fight for, completely alone. That they don’t love you back, or even nearly as much as you loved them. If they did, you wouldn’t be here, desperately trying to hold yourself together for what seems like the billionth time. If they loved you back, well...you reckon that reality only exists in your surreal dreams. 

There were distant cousins. In the states. And if you could get a hold of them, you had faith they would be willing to fly you over. You could spin an excuse at the drop of a hat. Maybe something about wanting to see America for a while and get away from your normal routine in Seoul. Something about needing space or enjoying time with missed relatives. They’d believe it. You’ll leave as soon as you can, hopefully in the morning. 

Naturally, this night is sleepless and you swear the sky is darker than usual. It’s starless, and even the moon is nowhere to be seen, hidden behind overcast clouds and you want to cry even more. Because after everything, is it still too much to let you feel the light? Is it still too much to let you rest under a gentle nightscape? 

You make a promise to yourself. To Y/N. 

You wouldn’t let her chase after pipe dream happiness anymore. You wouldn’t let her be so naive, so hopeful for something better. You’ve had your chance at finding it, and after more bumps and bruises, have come to the conclusion that maybe it merely does not exist for you. 

You promise her a lifetime of loneliness and solitude. But those are familiar things. Comfortable things. And you would take that over a broken heart any day. 

As soon as they fell onto their respective beds, all seven of them had drifted off to sleep. It seemed that days of constant work, chugging black coffee, and pulling consecutive all-nighters had taken its toll, and the boys finally caught up to the pure, unadulterated exhaustion. 

The seven of them slept through the night, plans of dinner completely forgotten as they glued themselves to the comfortable bedding. Unfortunately, with needed rest came a clear mind and the realization that they had been completely and utterly horrible to you ever since it all went down. 

Jungkook is the first to wake up. He brushes his teeth and slips on an outfit with a rapid fervor, ready to put everything behind him and just...hold you. Because he realizes it’s been weeks since he actually has, and maybe that’s just the thing he’s been needing. To feel your frame in his arms and hear your soft breathing. 

“Taehyung! Get up!” Jungkook pounds on the door of his hyung’s room. He hears shuffling from the other side, and a rustled bedhead emerges from a dark cavern.

“What Jungkook? It’s too early for this”, he grumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hyung we all slept like the dead through dinner. I’d rather not let this whole thing with Y/N marinate for any longer. Get up and let’s talk it through, I know you miss her like crazy too.” Jungkook does his best to keep his voice down since you were still sleeping in the room beside Taehyung’s. He has to round up all of them first before asking you to come out. 

So he does. Sweeps his floor and the one above to awaken the other six men. Jin and Namjoon were the only others who were dressed and ready to tackle the day. The rest of them moved like zombies to rid themselves of the sleepy fatigue. 

Somehow, they all manage to congregate in front of your door, nervously staring it down while the tension in the air choked them. It’s unnerving. The radio silence coming from your room. You must be really upset, and reasonably so. Hoseok clears his throat, twisting his hands together out of nerves, and glances at the others. 

“Well? Should I knock?”, he whispers. The other six nod solemnly, glaring at the door like it might combust at any moment. 

He steps forward gingerly and raps on your bedroom door thrice. The seconds trickle by like molasses, even slower when there is no sound from your end.

 He knocks again.

 Nothing.

 A third time. 

Complete and utter silence. 

“Y/N?”

Hoseok’s eyebrows deeply furrow, and with trepidation, he twists the doorknob and swings it open. The bedsheets are made, duvet untouched and pillows stacked neatly against the headboard. The curtains are drawn and everything looks fairly clean. Almost as if there was no one in there in the first place. Now that he looks closer, the only sign of you being there was the vase of brown and wilting peonies on the bedside table. The ones they had gotten for you months ago. Even your scarce amount of belongings were nowhere to be found. 

In the ache of the silence, nothing can be heard but their utter shock. Their minds jumping to the worst conclusion but still in denial because there’s no way that you would do that. No way they could have lost you when they all loved you so much. 

“M-maybe she’s in the basement. Or the library. I’m sure she didn’t….she hasn’t….”, Jimin cuts himself off as he drifts off into all the terrible possibilities. Namjoon yells at the guards downstairs from the second floor, and the sounds of their rushed footsteps to find you in this giant house is the only noise that reaches their ears. 

“Jun!” Taehyung hollers down below, where she is undoubtedly fussing away in the kitchen or slaving over a boiling pot. The woman calmly emerges upstairs with a sharp gaze, head held high and shoulders stiff in her posture. There is no emotion on her face, except the faint disappointment as she stands in front of the seven men.

“Where is she?”, Yoongi growls, stepping forward like a huffing beast, but Jun remains unbothered.

“Where is who?” Jun monotones. 

“Don’t play dumb, Jun. Where is Y/N?” She scoffs at the concern dripping in Yoongi’s voice. How ironic that the very person who maliciously told you to leave was now in pieces at your absence. 

“I was surprised you even noticed. It’s not something you’ve been doing as of late. Noticing”, Jun calmly retorts. She’s never been one to be afraid of them. Never scared to stand up to them, because though they were grown men, they often still needed some mothering. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Jungkook spits, frustratedly gripping at his hair.

“Is it not true, boys? Y/N’s been practically invisible to you these past few weeks. Who knew it would take a mere fight to finally get you guys to pay attention to her.” Jin’s reflex is to immediately respond with an argument. But the words die on his tongue when he realizes the truth in Jun’s statement.

The seven of them stare at her in silence, still high-strung on stress and anger, but intent to listen to her words. 

“She left.”

The two words that they had been so desperate not to hear sound like a death knell when they fall from Jun’s lips. Their blood runs cold, and the temperature in the house drops to subzero. A moment frozen in time and all they can do is be forced to come to terms with their actions . The room immediately explodes into desperate questions and exclamations to their head housekeeper.

“Where is she? Did she say where she’s going”, Hoseok tearily yells.

“Did she leave a note?” Jungkook chews on his lower lip until it bleeds.

“When did she leave? She couldn’t have gotten far.” Jimin grabs Jun by the shoulders, forcing her closer as if he could look in her eyes and pretend she was lying.

“Excuse me if I am speaking out of turn, Sir”, Jun clears her throat, “but what did you think was going to happen?”

The seven of them are stunned into silence, swimming in utter confusion and worry about where in the world you could be. If you were in danger at all. 

“She’s been left by herself for weeks. In this big, cold house while you all were wrapped up in your business. Tried talking to you so many times, but you all pushed her away.” Jun sighs disappointedly.

Her words ring with truth, and perhaps that is the most painful part about it all. The boys can’t do anything but stand there and listen. You were dear to Jun, and she wouldn’t let the fear of standing up to her intimidating bosses keep her from saying the things you didn’t have the courage to. 

“Y/N, she...she’s been struggling. Did she tell you that? Wouldn’t sleep for days, so I sometimes snuck melatonin into her afternoon tea. But still, she’d come out of that bedroom with dark circles that almost looked painful. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her toss and turn all night, Taehyung.” Jun spares him a glance. Not malicious or accusing. Just genuine curiosity and it makes Taehyung want to burrow himself into the ground. 

Namjoon’s heart drops as Jun continues speaking. How could they have been so oblivious to everything? So out of touch and wrapped up in other priorities that they seemed to completely forget about you? Arguably the most important person in their life. 

“Sometimes, she even refused to eat. Couldn’t even stomach a cup of soup, and she’s gotten so thin, I had to tailor all her clothes.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at the statement, his throat in knots and the sinking feeling in his gut only magnifying. Like ice water to warm skin. That’s how Jun’s words felt to their system. Like they had been so blind this entire time, so distracted by everything else that they forgot someone who had become one of the most important people to them. 

“Forgive me for speaking my truth, sir. But I’ve never quite felt such disappointment when I heard the things you said to Y/N yesterday. A-And I don’t condone her decision to leave. But can you blame her?” Jun sighs, exasperated as her worry for you seeps into her consciousness. 

Jimin pushes away the tears that have clouded his eyes, looking down at the marble floors so that no one sees the gloss that wasn’t there before Jun started speaking. He pretends not to notice the way Jungkook’s tremulous and shaky breathing, or the way Yoongi’s fisted hands have turned completely white from the tension. All he can think about...all they can think about...is you. 

Hoseok coughs, clearing his throat and steeling his voice to not show emotion. “Did she tell you where she was going?”

Jun shakes her head solemnly, twisting her apron in her hands. The boys begin to make their way downstairs, tension in the air thicker than ever and only one priority clear in their minds.

“However…”, Jun’s small voice stops them in their concentrated footsteps. “While she was packing, she told me to say one thing to you all.”

It’s expectant. They almost don’t want to hear it at all. Hearing it would affirm that they are completely undeserving of you. That you are an angel among beasts whose love language is to destroy and wreck. That maybe leaving them would be the best thing to happen to you. 

“She told me to tell you she’s sorry. For everything.”

Everything is what you deserved. Everything is what they would do to prove that to you. 

Korea from the view of your aunt’s private jet was a bittersweet revelation. It was beautiful. So achingly and hauntingly beautiful with the ghosts of your past and the shattered promises for the future. If you squint, you could still make out remnants of the Han River. Traces of a place that seemed to cry for you as you left for the states.

You didn’t want to be truthful to yourself. You didn’t want to admit that you wouldn’t miss Korea because of the people or the landscape or the weather. You’d miss it because they were there. That home had been so close you could nearly taste it. 

The trip was a chaotic blur. You faded in and out of sleep, in a hypnotic trance that proved to be your body’s self-defense mechanism to repress every emotion you had felt since you left. Stewardesses offering you flutes of champagne, drivers loading and unloading your luggage, the words of everyone around you flowing in and out like a stream of water that you ignored. 

“I trust everything is to your satisfaction, Y/N? Really, you must come visit more often. Your uncle and I have missed you terribly.” 

Your aunt had always been a kind woman. She was from your mother’s side, and like everyone else, so oblivious to the true nature of the Yoo family. How sinister things truly were behind those closed, gold-plated doors. Their house was grand, large enough so that you could make yourself scarce and wouldn’t be a disturbance. Though you couldn’t help but to notice the lack of boyish voices drifting down the hall, or the rhythm of Taehyung’s hands on the keyboard in the room next to you. 

You offer a kind smile to the butler, who gently sets your singular backpack on the plush bed that screamed out your name. 

“Thank you so much for everything, Aunt Kim. I promise I’ll transfer over the money for the plane fees and carry my weight around here for the time being.” 

Your words make you nearly wince with the uncertainty of your wobbly plans. Where would you even get the money? Ask your father? Ask them? 

“I....I promise to be out of your hair as quickly as I can”, you shakily breathe, failing to convince yourself. Yet your aunt only holds a kind smile and a warm gaze.

“Stay as long as you want, dear. It’s the least we could do to repay everything your family has done for us over the years. Especially your father.”

You know you cannot blame her oblivion. Not when it is such a well-guarded secret. Yet her words douse kerosene to the fire in your chest. Tugs at the stitches of the subconscious wounds you have yet to heal. It makes you remember them. Your boys. How they would burn at hearing such words, grit their teeths and spit poison at anyone who held your father’s name in a high regard.

Or would they? After everything, you’re not so sure anymore. Painful or not, it makes you miss them even more. 

So you smile. Bite your tongue, hold your fists at your side, and thank her again for the kindness she has shown you when you had nowhere else to run. America felt different. The air itself seemed like a culture shock. Being the ambassador’s daughter had prepared you for fluency in English and how to carry yourself diplomatically, but the journey ahead was bound to be rough. 

For the first time in your life, you would be the only one you had to care for. Not Soyeon, not your mother, not Bangtan. You’d have to do this by yourself, now, and though all the emotions you have locked away will inevitably return to confront you, this sanctuary for now would have to be enough.

You were surprisingly more difficult to find than the boys had expected. Traveling alone with no clunky belongings meant you were able to move more quickly than they had anticipated and the motel you stayed at was paid for in all cash. However, nothing in the city could really happen under Bangtan’s watch, and here you were. Video footage displayed on the screen of their basement office, and they can only feel heartache as they watch you through the screen. 

“She checked out in the morning. Got picked up by a gray SUV and taken to the airport.” Taehyung drones, eyes still glued to the screen. Like looking at your pixelated face would bring you closer to him somehow. He missed you. They all did. 

“The plane’s not registered with any public company, so I’m guessing it’s a private one belonging to her family.” Taehyung adds on, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on the table. The air was tense with frustration. Anger at themselves and at each other for letting his happen. For making you run away. 

“Any idea where it’s going?” Yoongi quietly murmurs from the end of the long table. 

“America.” 

America. You felt so discouraged and hurt by them that you had to go all the way to America. They did this. This is their fault.

“So? What are we waiting for? Tell the guards to prep the jet to America. We’ll bring her back”, Jimin gawks at Namjoon, who nurses a glass of scotch like it’s his lifeline. The room falls silent awaiting their leader’s course of action, but the six of them are left speechless when Namjoon himself starts laughing. The kind of laugh that sends chills down their spines. So raucous yet emotionless. So full of hidden pain. Namjoon tips the rest of the glass down his throat, looking at them all with a hopeless expression. 

“What makes you think she wants to see us? After what we put her through? Hell, I’d be surprised if she lets us within a 10 foot radius.” Namjoon’s words are cruel, but they can’t help but to believe it to be true. 

“N-No. She’ll understand that we were stressed. I-If we just explain everything, I’m sure she’ll-”

“Don’t you remember what happened in the kitchen? What Jun said? She’s been withering away for weeks, Jimin, and none of us gave enough of a fuck to notice. We made her feel invisible.” Namjoon chuckles, but there is only pain in his tone. One that he drowns out with another swig of top-shelf whiskey. 

“We can fix it. We can go to America and fix it”, Hoseok stares down the leader, insistent on making efforts. 

“No we can’t Hoseok”, Jin’s brows furrow, eyes lighting with fire, “Jun said she didn’t sleep. She didn’t eat. I wouldn’t take us back either.” 

The boys know better than to take it personally. They were all heartbroken in the wake of your leaving, so desperate to get to you yet ashamed of themselves, apprehensive of if they even have the right to chase after you. 

Jungkook leaps up from his seat, chest huffing and hands raking violently through his hair. He paces back and forth, eyes swimming in hurt and frustration until it all seemed to combust through his body, flinging his office chair to the side to find any form of catharsis. 

He spares a poisoned glance over to Yoongi’s direction, who still sits with his eyes glued to the floor, as if ashamed of his mere existence. 

“You.” The malice in Jungkook’s voice is crystal clear.Yoongi’s shirt collar is acquaintanced with Jungkook’s fisted hand, and he grips onto the older man like a viper to its prey. As if blunt force could make you come back. The other five boys could only watch. 

“You did this. You told her to leave. Now she’s gone. I loved her, Yoongi.” Though Jungkook’s words are pumped with antipathy, the sheer devastation is heard most through it all. Yoongi doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t even make a move to push the younger off or shield himself from oncoming hits. Just sits passively with a monotone expression, staring into Jungkook’s eyes with a blank gaze.

“You’re not faultless. You yelled at her too.” 

No, none of them are faultless. And perhaps Yoongi’s words were the nails in the coffin, but they all had part in pushing you to that brink. Jungkook’s eyes gloss over with defeat, and the grip he had on Yoongi’s shirt loosens. He steps away, unable to meet any of the gazes of his older brothers or the footage of your distressed face on the flat screen monitor. Leave. That’s all he’s known to do.

“Jungkook?” Yoongi holds no anger in his voice. It stops Jungkook in his tracks as he waits for his hyung to finish. 

“I loved her too. We all do.”

They can only pray they’ll get to tell you. 

The diner two blocks away from your aunt’s apartment complex is the last place anyone would expect Ambassador Yoo’s eldest daughter to be, much less employed at. You had spent the last two weeks scouring the area for a place that would take a girl with no prior work experience, a pending student visa, and no contacts or references. But here you were, working a minimum wage job and saving every penny to make something of yourself in this entirely new country. 

It hasn’t been easy. Trying not to think about the seven boys that you left back home. The seven boys that you love so desperately and hopelessly, and foolishly thought they felt the same. It’s in the wee hours of the night that you toss and turn, closing your eyes and imagine yourself back at their manor. You will your brain to manifest the clacking sounds of Taehyung’s keyboard from across the wall or the footsteps of Yoongi’s bulky shoes when he walks past your door every night. 

You miss them compulsively so. And perhaps they do not deserve your thoughts or heartache, but it belongs to them. Even after everything, you still belong to them. But you won’t give yourself the luxury of thinking you mean more than someone who they took pity on. 

The days are the same. You get up early in the morning, put on a pot of coffee by yourself much to the disapproval of the housekeeper. Though it’s baby steps, you feel more independent this way. The coffee is terrible, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. 

You leave before your aunt even leaves her bedroom, dedicated to your full-time job and earning money whenever you can. The pay is almost humorous, and a week’s worth of your labor probably equates to what Soyeon spends in a day. But it is your work. Your money. And though everyday starts and ends with heartache and longing for a life you once had in your grasp, it feels refreshing to learn to only need yourself. 

“Y/N”, your manager sighs as you stumble through the door with frazzled hair and painfully dark under eyes. “You’re late.”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry. Traffic was insane this morning. It won’t happen again.” Your hair is expertly swept back into a haphazard bun, fiddling with the apron around your waist before jumping to the orders that have begun to get cold on the counter. 

The work was simple. Slow. But it was honest and enough for you. The diner was calm; a refreshing environment from the one you had in Korea. 

“Here you are, sir. Black coffee and a side of toast”, you muttered in a sugary sweet voice, fake smile stretched on your face to hide the perpetual pain in your chest that has not went away since you left the Bangtan house. It’s easier these days to just not think about it. To completely repress the trauma of your father and the boys and the failed therapy. The smile drops as soon as you turn around to walk back to the counter. 

“Rough morning?” Lina’s voice is gravelly, rough from the coffee and 15-minute smoke breaks she takes every lunch. 

“Something like that.” You collapse onto the cashier counter, holding your head in your hands to will away the pounding ache of your temples. 

“First it was me completely sleeping through the morning alarm. Then it was the bus detouring and making five extra stops they usually don’t”, you huff.

“Y/N?”

“And don’t get me started on the fact that I decided to drop my phone in a puddle when I was running here.”

“Y/N.” Lina’s voice cuts through your venting monologue. She stares past you, as if there was something behind you captivating her attention. 

“I think someone is staring at us from across the street.” Your brows furror at her words, whipping around to the window. When you see him. The air in the diner thins until it completely disappears, and the breath is stolen from your lungs. 

Your paled face and shaking hands is what he sees from where he’s standing, clad in a black hoodie that covered his head, but you could recognize him in your sleep.You are both frozen in time and chaos, staring at each other like you both did not belong. Eyes glued to the other like you are both too good to be true.

 Are you imagining it? Through the tears that reflexively pooled in your eyes and the way your body quivers, are you finally going insane and imagining a person who has been plaguing your mind for weeks? 

Your feet carry you into action when your mind is still stuck in shellshock, bursting out of the diner doors with desperation on your tongue, hands reaching out as if it would span across the streetlight and bring him closer. 

“Jin?” You are not quiet. You scream his name across what feels like a chasm, but is only just a couple meters away. Your legs usher you into the open street, and cars veer and honk to avoid your form, frozen on the crosswalk. 

It takes you one second to blink and him one second to disappear into the crowd. Like he was never there at all and your mind was playing cruel, evil tricks on your already crumbling soul. A ruse that Lina was in on, just to torture your decimated spirit. 

Could you allow yourself the luxury to think that he had come to see you? You didn’t know if you even wanted him to, didn’t know if you had it in you to forgive and forget.

“Jin.” 

It comes out as a shaky whisper under your breath. A broken voice that longs for something she cannot have. Something that was so far in space and time it now felt like a figment of your imagination. You allow a tear to fall, your heart to crack a bit more, and return to the diner.

“Where have you been running off to these days?” The words are snide. Coated in feigned concern and curiosity and meant to be a jab at Jin’s recent absence in Bangtan activities. They are easy to fall from Yoongi’s lips as he steals another swig of the McKellan whiskey he’s been saving up for a special occasion or a rainy day. What more fitting than to mourn the space in his heart where you used to be. 

Jin stays silent, only giving the intoxicated Yoongi a heavy eye roll and trudging past him. To say that the seven men were in terrible shape after your departure is a gross understatement. But Yoongi’s onset alcoholism seemed mild compared to how the rest of the boys were faring.

Both Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t left their rooms since finding out you were in America, only the sounds of their computer keys, heavy footsteps, and the empty food plates left at their doors to signal that they were alive in there. Namjoon had thrown himself into work, picking up the slack of all the other boys and sometimes emerging from his office at the early hours of dawn looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. His gaunty face and the way his once fitted shirt now falls loosely on his shoulders tells Jin he hasn’t eaten much either. 

Hoseok could more often than not be found in the training room, breaking and bruising himself to numb him from the pain of losing you. He takes it out on the poor gang recruits that were unlucky enough to be chosen to spar with him. 

And Jin? Well, Jin spent his days away from the house. Away from the business and the drugs and the people. He never tells anyone where he’s going or when he’s coming back and they are all too drained to try to ask. The boys live together but not truly. Just exist and breathe in the same space and too resentful of themselves and the others to fix the fragments you left behind. They miss you. Long for you and burn for you like they never have for anyone else. 

See, it’s one thing to not know where you are and be forced to be away from you on the basis of ignorance. But to know your exact location, have the time and resources to easily get to you, yet can’t come to you because they’ve hurt you immeasurably is a different kind of torture. A different kind of ache that haunts their souls at every waking moment. You are so close and so far away, and they only have themselves to blame for the distance. 

“Jun, can you make a meal for Namjoon? I’ll take it up to him.” Jin sighs to the housekeeper, shedding off his coat on the kitchen stool. 

Jun nods knowingly, fully aware of the effects your absence has had on the masters of the house. And she is not blind to Jin’s indifference or the way he is doing worlds better than the others. 

“He’ll probably try to yell at me and make you go away first. But he’ll be thankful eventually.” Jin nurses a cup of tea to warm him after his journey. Ones that he takes every week and for days at a time. 

Jun nods again, assembling a tray of food that Namjoon will undoubtedly leave to get cold either at his door or the end of his desk. Before he leaves, however, Jun spares the man a knowing glance and a sad smile. 

“You may want to return the private jet more promptly next time, sir. The others have gotten...wary.” 

Jin’s eyes widen at her words, frozen for a millisecond in his footsteps as realization strikes in that he hadn’t been as inconspicuous as he thought. He says nothing as he departs from the kitchen. Only stares at the marble floor and wonders what would be the next time he’d get to see you. Even if from a street’s distance. 

It takes four syncopated knocks before semblance of a noise emerges from behind Namjoon’s closed door. It comes in the form of an angered grunt, but Jin is no stranger to his leader’s brunt. He opens the door with no further permission. 

Namjoon is in worse shape than he had expected. His hair is another level of unruly, greasy and matted and looking like the man ran his hands through it a billion times. The paperwork strewn across his desk and floor reflects the mess in Namjoon’s own head. Like he is suffocating himself in his work but still finds breath in his lungs. Still finds you in his thoughts. 

“You need to eat”, Jin states demandingly. Namjoon only hums in response, keeping his eyes glued to the work in front of him. Jin pushes the tray into his line of vision.

“Eat, Joon. You can’t work if you starve. Y/N would want you to eat.” 

Your name makes his pen stop writing. Makes his eyes widen like he hasn’t heard it said aloud in ages. It’s pathetic to Namjoon, really. How much one person has affected him.

“How would you know what Y/N wants, Jin? How would any of us?” He sneers, resuming the scribbling on his paper. Jin sighs dejectedly, opting to leave the food on his table and not be bothered with trying to help someone who so clearly didn’t want to be helped. He turns around to leave. Until Namjoon opens his mouth again. 

“Unless….”, he teeters, “you do know what she wants.” He tosses the pen and papers aside, crossing his arms and sitting back in the desk chair. 

“Unless you’ve been going behind our backs to see her.”

Had he been turned around facing Namjoon, the younger would have seen the clear exposed truth on his face. The blatant and unhidden look of guilt and shame that he quickly masks once he whips to face Namjoon. 

“What are you talking about?” 

The responding statement is quick. Too quick. Too accosting. Namjoon squints his eyes. 

“Only the several days these past weeks you’ve disappeared from Bangtan’s radar. The bills for the jet fuel sent to my directory. The pilots you’ve been pulling away from our forces in Korea to personally tend to whatever shady business you’ve been hiding under my nose.” 

Namjoon’s words are rapid fire, piercing into the facade that Jin thought he had so carefully crafted. He should’ve known nothing goes unnoticed under the leader’s eye. 

“Namjoon, I-”

“Just be glad I didn’t tell the others. Especially Jungkook.” The thought of the youngest makes him sigh. Jungkook has always been so volatile. A ticking, emotionally-charged and codependent time bomb hiding under that muscle and masculinity. Namjoon knew better than to expose something like this just yet.

When he looks up at the man standing in the doorway of his office, he’s looking straight past him. Through the window like it was you he saw in the sky. Observing him now, up close and with more attention, Namjoon finally gets to truly see him. 

On the surface, Jin is faring worlds better than any of them. He’s clean and freshly showered, hair coiffed to perfection like it usually is. He dons a black button up; perfectly ironed without a crease in sight. But Namjoon knows him better than that. Jin looks so utterly drained it stirs sympathy in even the darkest of hearts. His eyes communicate something his words can’t: Seokjin is completely lost without your light. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out breathily. Like he’s been waiting to say it all this time but couldn’t. 

“I just…”, he stares down at his hands, “I just needed to see her. See if she was doing alright after we…” Jin trails off, not able to face the truth of their actions just yet. And though there is lingering anger in Namjoon, he can’t help but to feel his distress vicariously. 

“You know, she’s a waitress now. At this small, run-down diner downtown. With a cute little apron and everything”, he chuckles softly, sadness seeping in every word. 

“She lives with her aunt and uncle, and walks everywhere because she doesn’t have a car, at unholy hours of the night which keeps me up every night constantly worrying about her. But that’s Y/N, isn’t it? So careless of her own safety and well-being.” 

Namjoon refrains the smile that creeps on his face at the thought of you. 

“She was smiling when I saw her. I could still see she was sad but she was smiling. Like she always does just so other people feel happier around her.”

“Jin, you don’t have to-”

“And she’s lost so much weight, Namjoon. She was trying to yell out for help and all we did was ignore her.”

Jin’s words are nails on a chalkboard. Vinegar in wine. It makes them both nauseous and rueful, and the oxygen in Namjoon’s office suddenly becomes all too suffocating. Your presence, or lack thereof, has left a heavy residue on the walls of the manor. 

The two boys sit in silence for a moment, before the sound of thumping boots on hardwood flooring echoes down the hallway, getting louder as it approaches the office. The door is nearly taken off its hinges as it violently swings open. Taehyung stands in the threshold, sweat on his brow and chest huffing up and down like an overexerted engine. He is pale in the face, hands trembling at his side and the sheer shock in his gaze tells the two older men that the words preparing to slip from his tongue are not going to be pleasant. Jin and Namjoon brace themselves for impact. 

“It’s Y/N”, his whispered voice quivers. Their hearts drop. 

“There’s been an accident.” 

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[choerrypuffs]

my best friend wants to be abducted by aliens.

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

genre: fluff, angst

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

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

warning: one (1) makeout session

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

Does that sound stalkerish? Perhaps. 

Are you actually a stalker? Debatable. 

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

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

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

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

Well, until now. 

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

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

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

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

“Renjun, you asshole!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not cute at all,” you huff. 

“Neither are you,” he replies.

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

“I’ll live,” he says, shrugging. 

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

Yet.

“Whatever,” you sigh. “Let’s go eat.”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you say after you recover.

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

“Both!” you say cheerfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What context clues?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gave yourself that title.”

“Shut up.”

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

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

“Bad analogy.”

“Yeah, it sounded better in my head.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” 

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

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

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

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

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

ও DAY ONE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” 

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

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

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

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

“Stubborn,” he answers. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me about it.”

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

Renjun pauses. “This might take a second.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?” 

“The Training Grounds!” 

“Why there?” His nose crinkles. 

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

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

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

He rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath. 

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

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

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

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

He frowns. “She hates me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say.

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

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

“Please, enlighten me.” 

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

“Enemies to lovers?” He raises an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you could have delivered it in a smoother manner.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm,” he responds, sounding tired.

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

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

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

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

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

“Ye—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought. 

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

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

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

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

You blink.

Wait, what? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

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

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

“Dense,” he adds. 

You give him a puzzled look. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s not cute at all.

ও DAY TWO.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Technically—”

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

“Am I wrong, though?” 

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

“I am,” he simply says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they, now?” 

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ও DAY THREE.

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

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

Two hours to kill. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He tilts his head.

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

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

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

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

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

“Renjun is in love with you, Y/N.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You barely notice him go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long?” you ask tentatively. 

“Probably when we first met,” he says. 

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

But then it hits you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ও DAY FOUR.

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you groan.

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

“I had a heatstroke?”

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

Your face burns from humiliation. 

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

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

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

“Jaehyun told me everything,” she explains.

Traitor, you think to yourself.

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

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

“And what does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face falls instantly, and Mijoo doubles over laughing. 

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

“Very funny,” you say dryly. 

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

You don’t answer.

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

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

“Then, you should probably tell him.”

“Yeah, I should,” you echo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All because of you.

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

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

Hwang Yeji.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything hurt—mentally and physically. 

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

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

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

And then the last puzzle piece finally falls into place.

That pain was never his.

It has always been your own.

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

ও DAY FIVE. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is, until a couple hours later.

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

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

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

“Can we talk?” Renjun asks. 

You hesitantly nod. 

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

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

“How are you feeling?” Renjun asks quietly.

“Like shit,” you answer honestly.

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

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

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

“I know,” you mutter. 

He blinks. “You do? How?” 

You’re not sure how to answer that.

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

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

Renjun gives you a bewildered expression but nods nonetheless. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you taunt.

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

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

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

“Huang Renjun, you are so not cute!” 

4 YEARS AGO.

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

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

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

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

But he think he does now.

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

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

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

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

“I’m...” 

You’re looking at him, waiting expectantly.

“I’m...”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he thinks, I’m in trouble.

#neowritingsnet #ncitynetwork #cznnet #NCT-WRITERS #nct scenarios #nct imagines #renjun fluff #renjun angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream imagines #renjun #nct #choerrypuffs #demigods

[wordynerdygurl]

Hello Everyone! I've been conspiring with @sammy-jo1977 to create a new series of sorts. We want to explore all those characters that started us on our journey into Fandoms, large and small.

This series will be a place for those ladies and gents who haven't had a lot of attention recently, are old favorites or the ones you can't seem to shake. If you would like to contribute a chapter to this guide, please send me a message! We want to have a full and accurate guide, so we are hoping you'll hop in with your character of expertise!

As an example, I'm posting our first story... I'd love to get your thoughts! With Love - Your WordyNerdyGurl

In The Stacks - A Rupert Giles Story

Author’s Note:  This story is due, in large part, to my beta-bestie @sammy-jo1977 and it is part of the afore mentioned series.  This character might be off television, but his fiery spirit lives on!! As always, reblogs/ shares are encouraged as are comments and love!

Pairing:  Female Reader x Giles (Buffy The Vampire Slayer Series) Summary:  You get up to mischief with the librarian, in the stacks. Warnings:  SMUT ahead.  General Buffy knowledge might help, but is not required.  There’s a moment with a bit of blood, but hopefully nothing too triggering for anyone! I hope you enjoy!

“Mr. Giles?” “Just a moment!”  You heard the clipped British voice answer before being drowned out by the heavy thumping of falling books and the rustling sound of shifting papers hitting the floor. As you stepped further into the Sunnydale High library, you weren’t surprised to see the familiar faces of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia huddled around a small table.  The friends were practically inseparable and clearly close.  You found their kinship adorable and couldn’t help smiling at the group as you drew closer. “Hello to some of my best students!  And of course, to you Mr. Harris.  How is everyone today?”

Willow, stalwart student and overachiever, smiled broadly, “Pretty good.  I did ace my math quiz and got an A on my English paper… but, well, I only pulled a B on my Bio test and I just know that I could have done better.” Offering her friend a consoling pat to the shoulder, Buffy sighed, “It’s ok, Will.  You’ll get those cells next time!” “Tune in next week as Willow passes her AP Biology test with flying colors, on ‘As Sunnydale Turns’!” Before anyone could counter, Giles came around the corner carrying a sturdy stack of texts which he dropped onto the table as gently as the large load allowed, “As always, you four are the best assistants a librarian could ask for.” “Come on Giles!  You know I only hang out here for the beautiful ladies!” Pinching the bridge of his strong nose, Rupert Giles sighed, “I am well aware of where your interests lie, Xander.” “Please, he can hardly handle being with one beautiful girl.”  That was from Cordelia who pouted prettily, her hand mirror open as she fixed her hair. “My girlfriend, ladies and gentlemen!  Thanks for that, Cordy.” Snapping the case shut, staring down her beau, she smiled, “You’re welcome.” “Uh, Mr. Giles, if I may?”  You hated to interrupt but you had come in with a purpose and you meant to see it through. “Yes, of course, how can I help?” Shuffling your feet, a bit nervous now with the asking, you smiled shyly, “I asked at the local library but they were absolutely no help.  You see, I’m looking for a specific point of reference and I was led to believe that you could help me.” “Oh!  Is it something for our Inner Vision collage boards?  I love working on mine, only… It’s not my fault that I only see dark clouds and blood when I close my eyes.” “Well, Miss Summers, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And the best art challenges us to see that beauty.” “I hate to tell you what I see when I close my eyes.”  Xander retorted. “Ah, Mr. Harris, your collage certainly showcases your, ahem, cultured world view.” “Hey!  The Simpsons are fine art, ok?  Just because they don’t live in a museum doesn’t mean they aren’t culture.” Giles, unable to stand by any longer griped, “Xander, I am almost positive that cartoons do not count as culture.” You started to answer but Buffy cut you short, adding, “Don’t mind Giles.  If it doesn’t come out of some dirty, dusty old book it can’t be culture.” “It’s pop culture!  The entertainment of my generation!” It was your turn to cut in, turning to the tweed clad gentleman, “Actually, Mr. Giles, Xander has a point.  Cartoons and animation in general are all increasingly seen as valid forms of art.  No matter what your tomes might tell you.” Smirking a little, he appraised your answer before replying, “Be that as it may, Mr. Harris, the amount of television you consume is corrosive.” Raising his hands in defense, Xander’s head swiveled between the two of you as Willow chimed in, “Give it up, Xander.  You know you’ll never win and besides, I’m pretty sure that animation and art are different.  Wait.  They are, aren’t they?” “When I was in Rome last summer, the very attractive, very Italian tour guide told us that they’ve found painted graffiti on the Coliseum.  It only goes to prove that times change but people don’t.” “Cordy’s right!  About the art, not the dishy Italian.  And they didn’t paint it, they carved it.”  Bouncing her blonde hair decisively, Buffy made her declaration.   “Wouldn’t paint be easier?  I mean, who wants to carry a chisel in order to deface a wall?” “Oh!  Oh!  I know this!  The kind of paint needed to last for centuries hadn’t been invented yet!”  Willow, lifting out of her seat in the excitement of academic excellence, was giddy. “Yes, Willow, that is correct.  In fact, a lot of the graffiti is simple and very crude.  Mostly of the phallus, if memory serves.  I’m sure I can find a documented case in Agrippa if you’ll all just-” And you watched as everyone rolled their eyes as Giles trailed off, lost now in the hunt for a specific volume which could be sited, should further proof be needed. “Ew.  Pass.” “I’m with Buffy here, Giles.  Keep your Grecian graffiti out of my brain.” “I’ll stick with the Simpsons, thank you very much.” “Yes, well.  It’s not Grecian at all, is it?  It’s Roman-” Smiling broadly, Buffy hopped off the table, “Giles is right.  The Greeks were more into orgies!” “Buffy!”  Willow’s shocked response made you cover a laugh with a fake cough. “-Of course, cites are rare.  Very difficult to find documentation.”  Giles, typically, hadn’t given up the search. Cutting through the chatter, louder than it ever needed to be, the period bell sounded. "Ugh.  Gym class for me.  Why is this even a thing?" "I don't know Buffy, I thought you liked showing off in your little shorts and beating the boys at basketball." "Cordy, that's enough.  And while us boys do love looking at you, Buff... we don't love the beatings you regularly deliver." "Well, I have a free period Giles!  Do you want me to stay and -" Snapping shut the leather book he was gripping, Giles caught your eye and turned to the peppy student, "Uh, no Willow, I don't think so.  I believe I need to see what our Art Department is in need of at the moment." With a shrug, Willow began packing up her belongings as Xander slung his back back over his shoulder, "Will, you can come with me.  I'm going to find a nice little corner, under a tree, and sleep away my study hall." “But, I… I could help find the Agrippa?  Or… some other old Roman book?” Xander wrapped an arm around Willow and took Cordelia’s open hand, “But why do that when nothing calls?” "Another fine example of your scholastic aptitude, Mr. Harris", was your parting shot at the foursome as they walked out the door. "Well. Mr. Giles, now that we’re alone… Could I talk you into helping me out?" “Of course, of course.”  Pushing his glasses further up his nose, fixing his light eyes on yours, “What are we looking for?” Sighing deeply, knowing the chances were slim, “I was hoping we would find some examples of Pre-Columbian deity carvings.” Pausing, his look serious, Giles peered at you, “Interesting.  Anything in particular?” “Yes, actually.”  Again you flushed, more than a little flustered at what you were really looking for, “I’m researching fertility icons.” Raising his eyebrows, Giles started, more than a little outside of his comfort zone, but you had to give him credit.  He recovered from the shock rather quickly, “Oh… I… I see.  Well yes, I’m sure we can find… something.  If you’ll follow me, please.” “I’m right behind you.”  Biting into your bottom lip, you smiled to yourself.  Right behind Mr. Giles?  What a place to be.  Giles led the young art teacher through the deepest stacks of the library, pausing once or twice to confirm that she was keeping up with him.  He was ashamed to admit that he had lost travelers a time or two as he stalked through his overstuffed shelves, knowing instinctively where to find the book he needed most. For her, watching the tweed covered bottom of Mr. Giles was no hardship.  True, he was older and tad bit reserved in the best British way, yet she had the sneaking suspicion that underneath all the wool and starched cotton was the heart of a wild man poet. "Uh... just a bit further, I'm afraid.  Books like this, well, I keep them at a greater remove." "It makes sense.  Don't want the kiddos getting a hold of anything too tantalizing." "Of course not.  As you well know, they don't need much help in the libidinous response department." You chuckled softly, nodding as the air around you grew stuffier, "Too true!  You should see what some of them turn in and call art.  It would make a blind man blush." And at the mention of blushing, you were shocked to see a rosy hue grow on Mr. Giles' cheeks.  You liked it.  It reminded you of the high color in a Vermeer painting.  You couldn’t help the flutter in your belly at the thought, "Mr. Giles, have you ever seen a South American fertility statue?" "I can't say that I have... have... have you?"  Something about the idea of you examining an ancient artifact directly connected to sexual congress made his body stir.  "Hmm... Oh, yes.  I was able to study in Mexico for a semester.  Some of the art work is just incredible and the carvings, they're truly magnificent.  Carefully made.  Usually stone or..." swallowing hard, your throat suddenly dry, "hard wood." Breaking fast at the implication in your words, Giles froze in place which caused you to press directly against his broad, vest covered back.  You had a second to register the soft scent of his aftershave; something spicy and masculine, which made your mouth water.  Moaning quietly, you offered a weak apology, “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Giles.” Offering you his profile, the bookcases too cramped for him to turn around fully, you saw his sweet smile, “That’s… that’s quite alright.  In fact, we’re here.” Stepping out of the way, you pushed back against the opposite wall, the shelves digging into your spine in the confined space.  Giles bent over, giving you a great view of his backside, as he extracted a slim book from the bottommost ledge.  When he stood up, directly in front of you, the narrow, book covered alcove caused him to stumble. Giles’ chest collided with your own, forcing the air out of your lungs.  Instinctively, you lifted a leg, curling it over the swell of one trousered hip and lifting the hem of your knee length plaid kilt.  Nose to nose in a compromising position, you exhaled a shaky breath as Mr. Giles inhaled, “Close quarters around here.” Shifting under his deceptively hard figure, it was difficult to ignore all the places that were firm to the touch, especially when you could feel so much through the thin barrier of your cotton panties.  Bracing one arm on the obliging shelf biting into your shoulder, Giles pushed back a bit, lifting his weight off of you without making any other attempts to move away.  He was so close now.  Close enough to feel your fuzzy sweater and all the soft skin that trembled beneath it.  Close enough to see the pound of your pulse in your throat.  Close enough that when you licked over your bottom lip Giles could almost taste it too.  And why shouldn’t he?  “Giles?”  Your voice was whisper soft, fanning hotly over the face of your colleague. “Uh… yes?” “I’m stuck.” Blinking behind his thick lenses, it took the normally quick witted Brit a second to process your words, “You’re stuck?” Nodding slowly, your hair curling over your cheek, “My… My skirt.  It’s… uh, caught.  Caught on something behind me.” “Good heavens!  I’m so sorry, let me help you.”  Slowly, Giles lowered your bare leg to the floor, his hand lingering for a second longer than absolutely necessary.  He was still in your space.  Still incredibly close to you. You arched away from the bookcase in an attempt to free yourself with a groan that sounded heady in the stuffy stacks.  All you managed to do was force your sweater covered décolletage into Giles’ chest.  Stammering, a wave of sweat breaking over his brow, “Allow me?” The way your skirt was caught pulled the bright plaid lower on your waist than you would normally consider decent.  It meant that you had a fleshy strip of skin exposed along your tummy and Giles raised his eyebrows by means of asking permission to touch you.  “Yea, yes.  Please!” Tentatively, gently, you felt the strong fingers of Rupert Giles circle your waist and shivered at the unfamiliar familiarity of his touch.  Your chin rested on his shoulder as he worked and you couldn’t help sighing when he opened his hands and pulled you closer.  Under other circumstances you might have misunderstood the embrace but you were both professionals.  Not that you hadn’t considered the handsome book guardian a time or two before. “I… I think we’re almost there.  If you’ll just, maybe to the right?” “Um, sure.”  Following his directions you twisted in his arms, trying hard not to tear your outfit or rub against Giles.  All the close contact and talk of fertility gods had you feeling a little aroused and it wouldn’t do for your colleague to learn that fact. With a triumphant grunt, Giles set you free, only for gravity to kick back in.  The momentum created by your falling took the gentleman and the entire Grollier’s Gothic Almanac collection with you.  A cascade of papers, scrolls and dust rained down on you both. Coughing, aware that you were laying on something softer than the floor, you struggled into a sitting position, swatting away clouds of disintegrated pages, “Rupert?  Are you alright?” From beneath you a rumbling grumble that sounded like, “Yes quite… you?” was heard.  It was then that you realized exactly where you were.  Straddling your friendly neighborhood librarian, surrounded by debris, but safe, all the same. “Oh my!  I’m so-” “No, No.  Please, don’t apologize.  I’ve been meaning to reorganize this section and well, now it seems I’ve got no choice.” “You’ve got a bump.  Right here…”  Just over his right eye a small bruised egg, the color of lilacs, was starting to rise and you gingerly touched the swelling spot. “Then it will match the one on the back of my head perfectly.” “Poor Giles!  All of this injury in the name of research!” “No one ever tells you the dangers one might encounter in the library.” His dry British wit sent you both into giggles and suddenly nothing could be funnier than the moment you were in with Mr. Giles.  Looking up at you, his fingertip traced over your cheek, suddenly serious, “I’m not the only one with a war wound, it appears.” “Oh?”  Your hand covered his as you realized that you had a small cut, bleeding just a little, over the apple of your jaw.  Smoothing his thumb over your injury, Giles soothed you, saying, “Hush now, I think you’ll live.”  And you watched as Giles sucked the drop of scarlet from the pad there, his green eyes on yours, daring you.  Something about it was so… sinful.  So dark.  So alluring. Then his lips were on yours, suddenly and savagely.  Hands, firm and capable, slid under the fluff of your sweater along your spine as you tangled your own in his dark hair.  Giles, drawing you near, was satisfied only when you were splayed over him, writhing between the piles of text and stacks of piled paperbacks, as his tongue plundered your mouth. Trapped by his bent knees at your bottom, Giles helped center you over the firmness of his excitement, teasing you as you moaned, “Oh, oh Rupert!” “Call me Ripper.”  Before the word had left your throat, Giles was sloppily kissing over your neck, sucking lightly on the skin revealed by the v-neck of your top.  Sitting up quickly, you lifted the soft sweater over your head, tossing it away from you without concern.  Like one of the teenagers you might chastise, you then hugged your lover tight, gasping when you felt the nip of teeth over your bra.  “Giles… Uh, Ripper!  Please, go easy?”  With a hard grip on your upper thigh and one hand on the back of your neck, Giles held you still, smirking, “If you wanted easy you shouldn’t have come looking for fertility icons, my dear little art teacher.  And if this particular article of clothing-” He paused long enough to pinch at your hardening nipple before continuing, “-is dear to you, take it off.” Clenching your abdominals at his crass language, more turned on that you could remember, you reached behind you.  Unhooking the pretty scrap of lace and satin, you shyly covered yourself, biting into your bottom lip, “Fine… Ripper.  Should I be worried for my virtue?” “Absolutely.”  Without waiting for permission, Giles pulled your arms away, exposing your bare body to his blazing gaze, “You have nothing to hide, you know?  You are-” “Just shut up and kiss me, Ripper.”  And he did. Grinding your hips into his, it was impossible to ignore his hardening manhood, even through the fabric of his pressed trousers.  Giles cupped your bottom, under your skirt but over your panties, bouncing you in place as if he was already inside of you.  For your part, you tried to unbutton his pin striped shirt, but the force of his kisses was proving too distracting. “Oh, dear!  Poor thing been kissed senseless?”  He was teasing and cruel, but in the sexiest possible way. Red cheeked and huffing, you nodded, “Yes… let me touch you!” “Tsk… you didn’t say ‘please’.” “Please!  Please, Ripper!  Oh god, please let me!” Unseating you slightly, Giles leaned up on his elbows, cocking his head to one side as he took in the mess he had made of you, “Go ahead then.  Unzip my pants.” “What?” Removing his glasses, eyeing you darkly, “You heard me, I think.” Swallowing hard, your hands shaking with excitement, you reached for Giles’ belt.  Watching him, and only him, you slowly slide the leather from it’s buckle.  When you popped the button of his pants and let your hand drag over his hardened length, Rupert groaned and tossed his head back, “Yes.  Keep going.” Slowly, agonizingly so, you lowered the zipper as you were ordered to do, “What now, Ripper?” “Take me out.  I want you to feel what you do to me.” “I can do that.”  You played it cool, but the saucy words being said in that clipped British baritone did things to you.  They made your thighs tighten, your belly flutter and your breath catch.   Trailing a hand over Giles' barely exposed hip, you moved closer to the prize, your prize, as it pulsed with need.  Wrapping your hand around the meaty girth of Rupert's member, you couldn't help stroking the silky hot skin, so vital in your palm.  That it caused the man beneath you to moan your name only added fuel to the fire of your desire. Slick and sorely wanting, you licked your lips, ready to savor the flavor of your book stacking beau but he stopped you, saying, "Last chance to run back to the studio." "No way… Ripper."  And you felt a rough jerk as your panties were removed by force, the air cool on your overheated core.  Another kiss, full of needful things, distracted you as Giles parted your lower lips with his nimble fingers. Pumping into you, once, twice, just to ensure that you were ready, Rupert swiftly stretched your center.  With your small hand guiding his shaft, you lowered yourself onto the engorged tower of his power, crying out a ragged, "Oh God!" You thought you were capable of handling any man, but the delicious spread Giles' fine form forced you to endure was more than you expected.  Clutching at his bunched up sweater vest, your back arched tautly as Rupert dragged your hips down onto his unrelenting hardness over and over.   In your head, a rhythmic, tribal tattoo that made you think of ancient fires and curved statues took hold and you rose and fell against Giles on the beats vibrating through your brain.  He sensed it too, alternating his stroke, slowing down and speeding up in time with the thrumming pulse only the pair of you could hear.  "I want you to cum for me.  Do you understand?  Tell me you understand." "Yes!  Yes!  I'm so close, Ripper!  So close!" "Good.  That's very good."  Tingling now, your muscles tensed, ready for the release Rupert would provide.  You flung yourself onto his swollen sex without thought or reason, merely searching for the pleasure he had promised.  His thumb, so thick, so clever, pressed against your sensitive clit and your world imploded. Rupert felt it.  The moment your body and his melded together was forceful.  It tore his pleasure from his loins in grunting gasps as he experienced your ecstacy at his hands. Limp and listless, you draped your half nude body over his, dazed and drained.  Who knew screwing the librarian would feel this good?  In your post coital haze you started to laugh.  Giles, his hands roaming over the sweat soaked skin of your back, heard your chuckles and joined in.  It was another release, of sorts, and you found it almost as intimate as the act you had just committed. Folding your hands under your chin, flashing Rupert a wide smile, "Ripper, huh?" Sliding his glasses back into place and carding a hand through his hair, Giles grinned, "Oh, uh… yes.  Ripper.  My nickname in London." Toying with the collar of his shirt, "I'd love to hear about London sometime… Ripper." At the sound of that name in your voice, Rupert flexed inside of you, "Call me that again and you'll miss last period." Gasping against him, nodding weakly, "Hmm… promise?" That made him smile broadly as he handed you back your sweater, "We can't have a repeat of last week, can we?" "It wasn’t my fault you didn't hear the bell ring, Mr. Giles!" Sitting up, you fastened your bra and shrugged into your sweater before asking, "Did you have to destroy my undies?" "I'm afraid I did.  Although I told you to remove anything dear, didn't I?" "What am I gonna do for the next hour, Giles?" Pushing his glasses up, "I would advise you not to bend over." Swatting at him playfully, you used one of the sturdier shelves to stand, adjusting your skirt and fluffing your hair.  Looking around at the absolute mess created by falling books, embarrassed, you asked, "Can I help clean this up?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary.  After all, Willow will be in-" "Along with Buffy and Xander and Cordelia.  Got it." Standing himself, Giles chuckled as he fastened his trousers and set himself to rights, "Precisely.  Now-" he bent over to retrieve a slim volume, "- The book you asked about.  Fertility iconography in Meso-American subcultures." "Thanks.  Ya know, I always enjoy coming to the library.  I'm surprised more people don't." Walking with you, his hand on your lower back, nuzzling into your neck, "I enjoy you cumming in the library." It was on the tip of your tongue to say something fresh when the overly loud bell clanged.  Lifting up on tiptoes you pressed a kiss to the goose egg over Giles' eye, saying, "I hope that makes it feel better!" Snagging you into a tight hug, Giles stared into your eyes before kissing you deeply, "That.  That makes it feel better." And then the library door swung wide on the four students who called the library a second home, "Um… are my eyes deceiving me or is Giles sporting a black eye?  I was only gone for an hour, big guy, what happened?" "If you must know, Xander, a shelf collapsed in the back.  We were fortunate enough not to be badly hurt but, there were some bumps and bruises." "A shelf!  Oh no… which one?!" Giles turned to Willow solemnly, "I'm afraid all the Grollier’s… and most of Crentist." "On it.  Come on Xander.  You can help me sort!" "Aw, gee.  That sounds like fun." As the pair trotted off, you turned to Giles, whispering low, "Dinner?  My place?  You can tell me about London, your childhood and why you love tweed." Eyeing Buffy, who was distracted and a distraught, Giles answered, "Tonight?  Um…" "He'd love to!  Say 9 o'clock?  And, he'll bring the wine."

Spinning on your heel, surprised that Buffy was your champion, you grinned, "Great!  Awesome!  I will see you then."

As you left you heard the bubbly blonde doling out instructions, "No Giles.  You can't wear that outfit to dinner!  You need to look nice.  Nicer than you do now.  Also, why is there so much dust in your hair?" If Giles answered you didn’t hear it over your big yawn.  You had a lot to do between now and 9 o’clock.  Rupert Giles was coming over for dinner and you could hardly wait.

------ Fin ------- I’m tagging my minxes, even though this is specifically NOT a Loki story.  I do want you guys to send me stories that might fall under the “Hot Characters” banner though!   Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion​ @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​ @jenjen8675309​​ @that-one-person​​ @roguewraith​​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

#giles #rupert giles #rupert giles x you #giles x you #hot characters you forgot about #rupert giles smut #giles smut #buffy fanfiction

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[ for my fellow fledgling drarry stans! the drama list is here and, well. like i didn’t initially intend to go off in the mini-reviews beneath every rec but it’s just that you can't nOT yell about drarry as classic literary foils!! also it’s my dumb sideblog so i decided there are no rules and i get to be annoying about good writing.

but rly, the whole premise of the drarry pairing is shaped by this genre and if the ~serious world of serious published writers~ weren’t absolute cowards, they would admit that drama fic authors have contributed more to the genre than the average shit you can find at your local chain bookstore. so that's that on thAT. & if you love a fic here, don't forget to follow the authors, leave kudos & comments on their work, send them nice msgs bc they do all this shit for free xoxo ]

part 2: dramas

mood: for when I need emotional catharsis and maybe 7 hours to sob/brood about loneliness, the cost of love, & the perpetual fear of being truly known

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, reconciliation fics. it’s cruelty o’clock folks and someone is about to say/do something Fucked Up that they can’t take back. but don’t worry!! there will be a Reckoning feat. hamlet-worthy monologues, ugly truths, unbridled rage, trauma, insecurity, and just a fuck ton of tears!! but maybe even tender apologies and mended things.

(Un)wanted by @aibidil​ - 36k - E | Ginny's pregnant, then she's not and Harry's single. Harry, again with no family, doesn't know what to do with this turn of events, or how to find a new life—post-war, post-Ginny, post-abortion—in which he belongs. He doesn't expect that life to include dancing to the Backstreet Boys with Hermione and Draco Malfoy. A story of finding belonging in the unexpected. | --- can a fic be tender and unflinching at the same time? bc this story strikes that balance rly well and for a piece about unwantedness, it is incredibly humanizing. ginny holding her own, draco being gentle but not letting harry play victim, hermione calling harry “hazzah” and just the way this friendship insists on the validity of found families even when harry is spiraling?? and you’re forced to consider that no one has the monopoly on fucked-upness and that doesn’t absolve us of the ways we hurt each other but it means that everyone has the same potential to be better after being broken. goD JUST READ IT, OKAY.

Blood Magic, the series by @houseofhebrideanblacks and @thestralsofspinnersend 335k - E “Later that night. . .Draco wondered at the depths of magic, its breadth and scope. The ways in which life pervades and eludes death, the ways in which they endure all manners of small and large deaths within their lives.” -- if you don't read any other fic on this list, i hope you read this series bc holy shit it’s breathtaking. harry’s a recovering addict, draco’s recovering from abuse, and in a cottage within the forbidden forest begins an unlikely partnership as the boys take up the tedious work of healing. there are thestrals and everyone's in therapy. there are whole chapters of cottagecore drarry. it's a beautiful exploration of how we bare the immensity of loss against the miracles of birth and regrowth. 

Ship of Theseus by GallaPlacidia - 18k - T “A ship in a full sail, a ship in a state of decay, a ship that had been rebuilt, slightly different. A repeating cycle. “What makes the ship the same?” asked Harry. “I don’t know. There must be something in it that lasts across the changes.” -- DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS QUOTE LIVES RENT FREE IN MY SAD, SAD BRAIN. DO YOU KNOW HOW I LOSE SLEEP THINKING ABOUT THE FUCKING SHIP OF THESEUS. it’s a memory loss fic and everything is so unFAIR. you want to murder harry sometimes bc he’s such a shiT and you suffer through the ways he questions desire, penance, redemption, true love. and by the end, you want to believe in those golden slumber lyrics: “once, there was a way to get back home” 

Yours to Keep by @dracoismytrashson​ - 135k - E i love the university setting, i love getting to see harry and draco’s first forays into a real LGBTQ community, the class and race structures outside of the wizarding world. i love that this is the context in which they’re allowed to confront the shittiness of PTSD, anxiety, depression etc. as they come together and fall apart against each other’s traumas. it makes the ending feel earned af. “Baby, we’ve been easing into it for a decade.” -- my god this line

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered​ - 153k - T  this fic is devastating. like, completely forget whatever reticence you might have towards a de-aging fic and read this. the de-aging premise allows the author to cut through the ways harry and draco hold each other at a distance and you end up with these stunning moments of clarity where they’re truly seeing each other for the first time. and suddenly everything makes sense. i won't spoil it here but there’s a scene towards the end where harry is talking to hermione and ron about realizing the first time he felt what its like to be loved and I fucking SOBBED. an all-time fave fic about learning how to belong.

Had To Be You by @lettersbyelise​​ - 59k - E a genuinely excellent slow burn about absolute fucking morons who refuse to express their mutual love over the course of literal years?? HOW MANY TENDER MEET-CUTES DO 2 GAY IDIOTS EVEN NEED. a car ride a bookshop a street corner -- when harry met sally is my enemy. but you know what? this fic is masterfully written, it’s an epic tale of unexpected friendships and the inability to say the things we feel. also its very much also a soft boi fic if not for the Major Fuck Up that pushes it into drama territory for me. so worth the turmoil tbh.

Hurricane by phrynne - 120k - E auror partners terrified of love. it’s a fic about walls - where the emotional landscape of this fic is occluded by dishonest words so you feel the tension play out in hollow voices, shuttered looks, emptied eyes. it’s like watching two ppl get flayed alive in slow motion and everything is SHIT for a little. it’s mean, it’s ugly, it doesn’t let you give the characters an out when they’re being cruel - to each other and to themselves. but harry and draco are two violent forces hurling toward each other’s walls and the inevitable reckoning comes and it’s so very worth the ending. the hospital bed scene to rule all hospital bed scenes.

Returning Tides by @zigster-ao3​ - E  “Is my timing that flawed? Our respect run so dry? Yet there's still this appeal That we've kept through our lives” --those fuCKing ian curtis lyrics in the summary!! p a i n. why do i put myself through getting-back-together fics knowing full well i’m gonna be Sad As Hell during the not-together portion of the story?? we are all unfortunately hoes for heartache. anyway this fic is beautiful. draco’s a dad and recently widowed, harry has a thestral reserve, the settings here are stunning. a story about grief and love that lingers.

A Piercing Comfort by @talithan - 44k - T “There is no objective scorecard. There isn’t anything that a person does that tips the balance from ‘deserving’ to ‘undeserving’, or vice versa. A ‘deserving’ person will not run out of worthiness after a set time of happiness and have to then go about working to deserve it again. And an ‘undeserving’ person does not have to suffer at length before having the opportunity to be ‘deserving’.” -- the heart of this fic. harry’s in therapy, facing depression, and learning how to accept love he doesn’t think he deserves. (also draco is harry’s therapist but yes, that power dynamic is handled ethically-well imo and addressed in the author notes I promise!!).

Borrowing Courage by @xx-thedarklord-xx​ - 70k - E |After years of being a Magical Artist and painting for other people, Draco decides it’s time to paint for himself for once. The secrets pile up as he tries to unravel the mystery of his relatives but the only thing he didn’t count on was having to go to Potter of all people for approval.| --god i love this fic. the thing about drarry here is that they never mean to hurt each other but they do. they do and draco’s trying to do the right thing and he wants so badly for good family but harry’s never rly stopped grieving sirius and it’s this whole unintended mess of festering wounds forced to heal. everyone needs a hug. also ron/blaise pairing and ron+draco’s friendship here is everything!!

Reparations and the sequel, Foundations by Saras_Girl - 320k - E | Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.| -- incredible. harry and draco’s dynamic as healers, the cast of original characters, the boys learning what it means to trust each other, draco building a rehabilitation center, harry falling in love with him, and “meus fabula est mei ut dico: my story is mine to tell.”  i cry

The Ties that Bind by phoenix_writing (not on ao3) - 61k - T | Upon Andromeda’s death, Harry and Draco are given custody of Teddy. Their lives will never be the same.| -- harry’s got major abandonment issues and he’s just trying to be a good co-parent with draco but everyone is being the woRST and you want to murder them on behalf of harry. but then, the boys learn to listen to each other and god it all becomes so tender. also harry has a gay panic. things are awful but it all works out. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #drarry dramas #im so sorry if this got long but also #I have too many Thoughts #all I do is cry over two sad gays #its pain o'clock sweeties #time to Sob about the mortifying ordeal of being Known

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

I'm okay with a bunch of disorganized rambling honestly 😂. But if I had to narrow it down then I guess I want to know about main and side characters and how they compare to the original?

I know that tumblr is the Prime Site for disorganized rambling, but I have perfectionism issues. But that is a great question, nonnie, and I will be happy to ramble is a slightly less disorganized fashion.

When reading Maximum Ride as a somewhat-formed adult who discovered they enjoy English classes about 3.5 years ago, I noticed that JP, when writing, doesn't understand consistency. At all. Which means, in many ways, I have a free sandbox to work with.

Spoilers for my rewrite WIP, because I strongly believe that if a story would no longer be good if one had spoilers, then it wasn’t a good story in the first place.

I'm trying to keep the backstories the same, plus or minus the scientific method and a few characters (RIP my OCs. I want to bring you back so bad but it wouldn't fit with the thematic narrative). I've mostly kept their (starting) abilities the same, too. Without further ado, I'm going to introduce some WorldBuilding. (If I'm good at nothing else, I'm good at world building)

First off. Logically.

How are they getting Cable?

How are they getting internet?

How are they getting money to eat and stuff?

JP's answer: handwave it off. Sometimes you need to ignore logistics for the sake of plot. This is an answer I'd accept from an author that I like, such as Julie Kagawa, that makes amazing worlds, characters, and narratives that I will happily handwave a few things that wouldn't work in the real world. James Patterson, on the other hand, did not make any of that; he made a cool concept, some good rough-draft characters, and nothing else, and therefore this is an unforgivable sin.

Wasp's answer: They are not getting any of that.

Introducing Cottagecore.

The house is off the grid. Solar Panels and a wind turbine create electricity. They have their own well. They grow their own food, raise livestock for eggs, milk, and wool, and trap fish for meat. They get money through dumpster diving and pawning. They still have to steal half of the necessities they can’t make themselves. They do have a TV, but it can access about three channels on a clear day. Internet is only a thing when they go to the public library.

Giving the flock a background that’s heavy in farming and livestock rearing shores up the plot holes mentioned above, but in my opinion, ties the flock more tightly to the environment, thus giving them something tangible to lose when they have to leave the E-shaped house. Because they’re not just leaving a house and a safety net— they’re leaving their entire way of life with no promise of getting it back. It also gives them a tangible connection to the earth in case I want to actually pursue the global warming themes.

Main Characters

Maximum “Max” Ride (Birthname: nonexistent)

First off, I'm letting her be Latina, James Patterson.

In the original, Max was very much the headstrong, independent, action girl. Leaning into Strong Female Character (TM), but overall she had a strong, solid foundation and enough character consistency through the first three books for me to not have to just make an entire new character. However, I felt that she was, in some ways, a bit too Action-Girl and Strong and Capable. Yes, Max is incredible and competent, but she’s also fourteen. She’s a child.

In the rewrite, Max’s character is still headstrong, independent, capable, and sometimes not the best at listening to others. All of that’s the same. But she’s that way not because of girlboss energy, but because there’s no one else to do it. She doesn’t want to lead, necessarily. She wants to get some rest and let someone else handle the problems life keeps throwing at her. But she knows if she did that, the responsibility of leader would fall to Fang and Iggy, and she can’t ask that of them. She doesn’t want to place that burden on anyone else (Look, there’s a reason I chose Ayano’s Theory of Happiness as one of her signifier songs, okay?). Her narrative is very much centered around burden, and also around loss. She lost her cultural heritage when she was taken away from her birth family, she lost her childhood to being a leader, she lost a good deal of her friends to the school (RIP my OCs), she lost Jeb, and then she lost her stability. And she’s going to lose a lot more before the end of the story. So a lot of her character arc deals with learning that there are some things she can’t fix, some things that can’t be recovered. She can’t get the E-shaped house back. She can’t get her Little Baby Angel back, even after they rescue her. She can’t get her friends back from the school. And instead of working so hard to recover those or find something to replace them, she has to learn to live with that sense of loss and move on with her life without feeling guilty for leaving things behind. And she has to learn that asking for help and sharing her burden is selfish or weak.

Other changes I made that don’t necessarily fit into her narrative arc, but you asked for rambling so rambling you shall get:

Max hallucinates, because mental illness is also a prominent theme in the rewrite. She doesn’t have a psychotic disorder, but her C-PTSD causes visual/audio hallucinations, especially when she’s stressed or sleep deprived. 

Max ends up having a Gender Discovery throughout the story and goes by He/She pronouns eventually. I don’t know when, but it will happen.

As far as genetic modifications/special quirks go, she can fly faster than the rest of the flock, but not 300 miles per hour. She averages about sixty mph with diving speeds of 240. She cannot breathe underwater or shut down her organs on command. She also has the Super Special Power to predict the weather, but that’s not because of genetics, it’s because she has chronic pain in her right arm that gets worse when weather fronts change.

Her favored weapon is her trusty rebar that she picked up from a condemned building. I think she’s going to name it eventually but I don’t know what yet.

Fang (Birth name: Gabriel Xue)

In canon, Fang is characterized in early books by being the “dark, strong, silent type”. He’s probably the most reserved member of the flock, to the point of falling into the Brooding Mystery Man trope in parts of the book. They care a lot, but they’re not the best at conveying that, especially with the younger members of the flock, and at times their high empathy leads them to making mistakes. Despite the high empathy, he’s often compared to a robot due to his lack of expression and external emotions.

Well, first change is that they’re not a man, so jot that down—

If Max’s narrative is centered around burden and loss, I would probably say that Fang’s is centered around humanity and moving on. None of the flock was treated as human while in the school, but Fang was more often than not treated like a wild animal due to “behavioral issues”, and therefore had and continues to have a difficult time considering themselves real and alive, let alone human. This manifests through a several different ways— where in canon Fang definitely had a ‘fight’ reaction, in the re-write they have a ‘freeze’ or ‘shut down’ instinct. They’re selectively mute for multiple reasons (including derealization, jaw pain, the fact that they didn’t learn how to speak until they were 10, and genuinely forgetting it’s something they’re capable of), a period of Cotard’s syndrome, and a tendancy towards self-loathing and self-sacrifice. In short, Fang is still halfway stuck in the mindset that most of the flock grew out of when they escaped in the school, and doesn’t know how to move past it.

Much of their character arc revolves around not necessarily seeing themselves as human, but learning to treat themselves as human even when they don’t feel like one (or even feel real), and knowing that just because they don’t feel human all the time doesn’t mean anyone else can treat them the same. They never start easily expressing their emotions, and they’re always going to be selectively mute, but they learn to accept that those aspects of themself aren’t character flaws or signs that they’re sub-human. 

Other additions to Fang’s character include:

They don’t get their hair cut in New York. It stays long through the entire series. They have the longest hair in the flock by the end of the series, and they can wear it in so many styles.

Fang uses they/it pronouns because themes of reclaiming the weapons used against it and, more importantly, Gender.

They’re actually really good at spelling compared to the rest of the flock, because they and Iggy communicate with Print-On-Palm when they’re nonverbal, and they’re nonverbal for some pretty long stretches of time. 

They and Max have... zero romantic tension. At all. There is none. The number of times Max calls them her sibling/little sibling in the first arc alone is staggering, and that will not change.

Igneous “Iggy” (Birthname: Jamsetta “Jamie” Griffiths)

I’ve talked about Iggy before. Canon doesn’t give us much to go off of, but from what’s shown, he’s smart, sarcastic, has sharper edges than Fang and Max, and also has a sizable ruthless streak. So that’s what I have to go off of.

The big difference between Iggy and Fang&Max is that Iggy has a much better memory of the School. Most of the flock have areas (months or years) that they don’t remember, or people that they’ve blocked from their mind, but Iggy... doesn’t. So he’s the one that remembers all of the other AVIAN test subjects that were old enough to have names and identities but died due to complications. Max might have the burden of leadership, but he has the burden of memory. And that has lead to both a massive fucking guilt complex, because why did he survive when they didn’t, and, as mentioned above, a ruthless streak that he doesn’t shy away from.

Which is to say, by the end of the story, Iggy has the highest kill count.

I love, love writing Iggy next to Max and Fang. I love writing Iggy next to Gazzy and Nudge. Because, I say this with all of the love of the world, but Iggy is not a good person. He is loyalty and love incarnate, and the world can burn down if he and his siblings are safe. Max and Fang will always try to save as many people as they can. They will wonder what’s wrong with them the first time they kill and don’t have a mental breakdown about it. They are good in a way that Iggy is not. He’s okay with killing Erasers. He’s okay with killing humans. He’s okay with killing people who might not necessarily deserve it, if they show themselves as a threat or are simply in the blast radius. He knows perfectly well that most of those Erasers he’s murdering are four and five and he is okay with that, because a lot of the AVIANs were that age when they died. (Yeah, in the rewrite it’s not Fang who has an issue with Ari; it’s Iggy who wants the 7-year-old wolf-boy dead.) 

And this is, of course, juxtaposed with Iggy being really, really good with Nudge and Gazzy (especially in the beginning). Because, again, he actually remembers being a child. He remembers a lot of kids that died and is therefore fiercely protective of the kids that didn’t, as well as fiercely protective of the innocence that he never got. So he’s the one that cooks their favorite foods when they’re having a bad day, always makes time when they want to talk about something, and convinces Max to let them go to that toy store in New York because, yeah, he Max and Fang aren’t kids. They never were. But Nudge, Gazzy, and Angel can be. (And if he has to be a murderer to preserve that, then he’s perfectly okay with that.)

He and Angel don’t get along very well, though. The telepath doesn’t like hanging out with the person with the most clear memories of the school.

Other additions:

Iggy is trans and says trans rights

He also has paranoid episodes, because C-PTSD. Sometimes they’re very helpful. Sometimes they are not.

I actually decided that he’s one of the flock that doesn’t meet their parents. I know in canon he did, but I always found that very clunky because it didn’t add to his character. He was one of the characters who, until it was convenient for the plot, seemed to care the least about his family. I’d much rather give that to a character whose arc would benefit from it.

Iggy! Gets! Older Sibling Rights! Seriously, he’s two months younger than Fang, he is just as capable.

Iggy does not know braille because Jeb decided it wasn’t necessary for him to know. Iggy is also the best speller in the flock, because Print-on-Palm was the only way to talk to Fang for a solid year. Yes he mocks everyone over this.

Iggy is the only member of the flock that enjoys swimming and can take into the air from water. Everyone else in the flock is incredibly jealous.

Nudge (Birthname: Monique Robinson)

If Iggy is defined by his memories, Nudge is his polar opposite. She was seven when she left the School, but she has next to no memories of it. She is missing a lot of time in the first year she escaped. And that causes... a lot of things. It makes her feel disconnected from her older siblings, it gives her the ability to function in society in a way the other’s can’t, it lets her feel less grief over the ones that didn’t make it and she doesn’t remember, it makes her feel guilty that she doesn’t remember what she’s old enough to know. 

Basically, in order for me to keep the character of Nudge as I saw her (more extroverted, not afraid of the world, fascinated with humans like her siblings aren’t, desiring to fit in instead of isolate), I had to put a little bit of distance between her and the flock. Of course, she loves them— that will in no way change— but she’s old enough that she should remember the school (and her dead friends) unlike Gazzy and Angel, but she can’t, and she very much fears forgetting the flock if anything happens to them. So she’s trying desperately to keep the flock close and wants desperately to experience the world at the same time, and doesn’t know what to do when she can’t have both. That’s her biggest character conflict throughout the series, along with that in-between area where she’s not quite where her older siblings are but understands so much more than Gazzy and Angel, and where she stands in that.

So yeah. Nudge’s journey is that in looking for belonging in the world, in her family, and in herself.

This is why she’s one of the ones that gets to find her parent, James Patterson. 

Other additions include:

She never straightens her hair. Never. Her resources at the E-shaped house aren’t perfect, but she still has learned how to take care of her hair and has a few styles she cycles through.

She becomes the default person Max sics on people when the flock is trying to befriend them. Also their de-facto diplomat around strangers.

As in canon, she does take some time away from the flock to expirience ‘normal life’. This does not last long due to the stress of being separated from her siblings/not being able to help them and [REDACTED]

Nudge is... not the only person in her head. I’m not focusing on it much because she doesn’t actually know and neither does the flock (I don’t know if they ever figure it out during the series, either), but she has dissociative identity disorder. She’s not aware of her alter(s?). Her alter isn’t super aware of her, either. 

The alter that I’ve developed is named Oxy and is not super aware of the outside world. In her eyes, she’s still seven and they’re still at the School. She would not recognize the body as her own if she looked in a mirror.

Nudge actually leaves the flock for a while to pursue her dream of living a normal life. She deserves it. She learns how to make muffins and the basics of software development. These things are unrelated.

Gasman (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

Honestly, writing Gazzy is kind of hard for me. Partially because I’m not great at writing kids, and partially because I feel like he’s a pretty surface-level character in-series that... isn’t super compelling in canon. But even if that’s the case, I try to treat all of my characters with respect, so here we go. In my rewrite, he escaped when he was four, which was half a lifetime ago for him, so his memories are ill-defined. Therefore, he managed to circumvent a lot of the trauma that the rest of the kids have, and not in the way Nudge did, which is by creating an elaborate blockage in her memories. 

Which means Gazzy... really doesn’t know how to deal with all of this traumatic stuff happening. So much of his development turns out to be a coming-of-age narrative. Learning how to deal with the horrors of what his siblings grew up with. Learning the fears that they had the entire time. Losing his innocence when everyone around him never had it in the first place, and being so terribly alone because of it. Because, really, how can you explain such a deep loss to people who never had what he had? How can they help in a way that matters?

Also, relationship-wise, I’m slowly deteriorating the relationship between him and Iggy. Slowly. Or, changing it, at least. Gazzy hero-worships Iggy in-series, and for good reason, because Iggy is super cool, especially in the eyes of an eight-year-old, and especially when Iggy has taken care to cultivate parts of his behaviors to be child-friendly. Part of growing up is seeing the flaws in your heroes, and Gazzy has to learn how to deal with it. End of the series Gazzy is much less closer to Iggy than beginning of the series Gazzy, and neither of them are really okay with that, but they learn to live with it, because that’s really all they can do.

Notes:

I’m keeping the mimickry! It plays a bit of a bigger role because that’s how Gazzy learned to talk. I’m debating whether or not he has his own voice or if he just borrows the flock’s as he sees fit. He also uses it to scream really loudly and occaisonally burst the eardrums of Erasers.

At one point he cosplays as Jessica Jones. No you don’t get any more context than this.

He has a horrible sense of fashion.

I’m changing his name eventually because it sucks. He’s either going to change it to Gannet, Garrison, or Ivy Mike temporarily, and permanently to Zephyr. (I never said I was going to make his name GOOD, because he’s eight, but it’s changing. You’re welcome.)

Angel (Birthname: No first name, surname “Falk”)

It’s just... a completely different character, at this point. I’ve changed so many things about her in an attempt to make her consistent and act like a six-year-old and work in the whole “telepath before she has a solid sense of identity”, so it’s a different character. Also, I’m tired of writing coherently or in paragraphs, so have some interesting facts.

She has epilepsy! Super severe epilepsy! I think she might also develop juvenile MS in the future because her brain has so many scars from being a fucking six-year-old telepath. There’s no way she could get out of that unscathed.

She has more memories of the school than Gazzy, but only because she keeps accidentally reading the minds of Max, Fang, and Iggy. On a related note, she interacts with Iggy as little as possible.

The mind reading means that she has a hard time developing as a normal child with a normal sense of identity or reality. She can’t tell how much people are individual people and how much they’re just extensions of her. Conversely, she can’t tell how much of herself is actually her instead of the thoughts/opinions/identities of someone else. It’s... kinda fucked? But also super not-her-fault. 

She’s albino because white wings. Also, because I thought it was cool. This also means that her vision sucks, though. Also she has the biggest straw sunhat and the most stylish sunglasses a six-year-old can have.

She’s responsible for Max shaving her hair off.

She has the highest swear count because I think it’s funny. She’s the only person allowed to say the fuck word in writing. Everyone else can only say ‘hell’ and the occasionally ‘damn’ but she can say whatever she wants for dramatic and comedic value.

She is NOT THE FUCKING VOICE, J*MES P*TTERSON.

Honorable Mentions

Jeb

I’m skipping Jeb because of how little I care about him. He’s a little bitch, next character.

Ari

STILL HASN’T BEEN REVEALED AS AN ERASER. I’ve been writing for 50,000 words and he’s over here saying ‘nope nope not yet, not dramatic enough’. He’s had speaking lines but has refused to make himself known to Max. I am so frustrated with this seven-year-old wolf-child that I’ve already considered how I would kill him, if I decide I want to kill yet another child in my writing.

So, my main thoughts for Ari is that he... really just drew the short end of the stick in every possible way. While Jeb didn’t sign him up for Eraser expirimentation, he didn’t do anything to stop it, and pretty much cut his losses when he realized this expiriment made a wreck of his ‘perfect, unflawed’ son, because Jeb doesn’t consider children of any species to actually be humans. So, Ari really hates his dad, which makes things complicated, because he also really loves his dad and really wants his approval. 

Which means that he also really hates Max, because she’s the child that always got Jeb’s time and attention, even when Ari was human. I think, on some level, he knows that trying to tear Max down to a less-favored level isn’t actually going to help his situation— infighting for the love of an abusive parent won’t make them any less abusive— but he’s also seven, and his development is already severely stunted due to becoming an Eraser, and he doesn’t see ‘leaving ITEX’ as an option like the Flock does. ITEX is his everything. It’s all he’s ever known, and they tell him he’s doing the right thing, and he wants them to love him. He wants his father to love him. He knows that if he ever questions ITEX, his father will never love him. So it must be his older sister that’s ruining his life and being a horrible child, and once Ari drags her back down to his level, Jeb will realize who the best child is and love him properly again.

Ari, on an even deeper level, does care for Max quite a bit, because she’s his older sister and he wants that to mean something in a way that ‘Jeb being his father’ obviously doesn’t. He wants what she made for herself, and he hates the Flock because she loves them and obviously doesn’t love him. 

Ari, if anything, is the product of neglect, and both loves and hates everyone who shows a chance of caring about him. And he’s seven, so he can’t notice these patterns, let alone break them.

So. Notes!

He doesn’t look like an adult. I thought that was gross and unnecessary. He’s seven, but he looks closer to thirteen or fourteen. Still young enough that he looks like every Eraser’s little brother, and the Erasers high-key treat him like it.

On a related note, he’s the only Eraser who can talk. The others don’t have the mental capacity or vocal structure to replicate human speech, but they can understand language (at about the level of a two or three year old) and are very good at nonverbal communication. This is why Ari managed to climb the ranks despite only having three years of “service” and also looking like a tween.

He doesn’t have an expiration date because that is SUCH a stupid plot point.

I’m giving him a chainsaw! I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but he deserves to have a chainsaw and GODDAMN I will give it to him.

Emergency and Gene

The OCs that I love and also killed pre-series. They don’t have any scenes, because they’re dead, but their deaths greatly effected Max, Fang, and Iggy, and they are very commonly referenced. Their voices are probably Max’s most common hallucination, to the point where she sometimes pretends they’re ghosts that she can talk to. They’re not ghosts. They’re dead.

Dr. Valencia Martinez

I’m actually keeping her pretty close to canon— loving, supportive, the type of person to take in a gsw victim with minimal questions. The difference is that rather than kindness fueling her actions, it’s incredible guilt. She has three goals surrounding Max: Give her as much support in any way she can, teach her as much about chicane culture as possible, and never let Max know that she’s her birth parent.

(She’s probably going to fail at AT LEAST two of those, but it’s the thought that counts.)

Notes:

She has a pet fox named Robin Hood that she rescued from an exotic animal salesman that got arrested.

I think I’m going to kill her. I don’t know yet, but it’s on the table.

Anne Walker

Y’know, the fake FBI Agent. Who’s not actually a fake in my story because I hated that plot point. She’s genuinely an FBI agent who put the Flock into pseudo-witness-protection in order to build a case against the Institute of Higher Living, accidentally got attached to her prime witnesses, raised them for a few months, realized a [SPOILER] and promptly had to let them get the hell out dodge.

I really like the Anne Walker that lives in my head. She is a VITAL part of the Flock’s development, their mental/emotional recovery, and adding to their safety net to fall back on. She serves them as their first adult role model, and is the first adult to show them what parent/child are supposed to look like from a healthy perspective. Though she has several fuck ups, she becomes someone that the Flock genuinely trusts and loves, which makes it all the more difficult for them to leave when [REDACTED].

Notes:

She and Max do butt heads initially, because Max is paranoid and also afraid of becoming uneeded. This ends up being incredibly important because Max needs to learn how to live and find meaning in life without being the designated Leader/Parent/Big Sister

Anne, at one point, sits the entire flock down to teach them about consent, which was something no one ever talked about with them before. She goes in talking specifically about consent in a romantic/sexual sense (because they’re fourteen and that’s something they need to know), but quickly turns into a full-fledged no, people are NOT allowed to do that to you, what the FUCK.

She’s responsible for giving the flock a laptop. It’s because Angel is online schooled (bc telepathy makes actually learning difficult) and was therefore provided with a computer.

Anne is also allowed to swear, but only when it’s funny.

Michael “Grey” Rivers

Aka Grey from the Sewers Aka GR3Y H47 Aka Mike from the Bronx Aka Gifted Child Syndrome Incarnate Aka Would-be-in-MIT-if-his-parents-weren’t-horrible. He’s my son, your honour.

Basically, his backstory boils down to him being a genius, getting into MIT at 14, his (horrible) parents wanting a perfect child who could “make it out” of the Bronx and represent his family/neighborhood/borough to the world. When he inevitably failed their expectations due to stress, a schizophrenic-spectrum disorder that completely alienated him from the rest of his support network, and refusing to take his psych meds because the side effects were horrible and they made it harder to think (and therefore pass his classes), they kicked him out. He fully intends to go back to MIT when he turns 18 and has control of his finances/scholarships/medication/therapy.

So that’s how the flock meets him. 

Mike ends up in a very prominent support role for the flock both in technological persuits (helping them track their parents, helping them get information from ITEX, trying to disable Max’s chip and failing multiple times until it becomes a matter of personal honour—), in helping the older members of the flock figure out how to deal with hallucinations/delusions (because he’s actually been to therapy, unlike them), and in being one of the only people who talks to them and helps them without any ulterior motive. He’s not trying to build a case against ITEX/The Institute of Higher Learning, he’s not double crossing them, he’s not plagued with guilt. He just genuinely wants to help them, and they genuinely want to help him, and that’s their first introduction to a healthy, non-codependent relationship.

My many disorganized notes on Michael Rivers:

He’s from specifically Morris Heights, Bronx, NYC.

He would say that his last name is actually Rivera, but his grandparents changed it to Rivers so it would sound more English, and his family has been in America for so long that he doesn’t know much about any Latino heritage he may or may not have. He identifies as African American, not Afro-Latino. He’s just bitter that his family felt the need to change their surname to have better opportunities in New York.

Nudge aggressively befriends him pretty much the moment she meets him, bullies him into teaching her how to code, and he very quickly adopts her as his pseudo-little-sister.

His delusions in the book seemed to involve government conspiracies, but as that’s the one delusion that is proved correct in the book, I’ve decided it would be best if his delusions and reality intersected a bit less if I don’t want to write him having a manic/paranoid episode in the second scene he has screen time. So his delusions are more based on “none of this is real”, “someone is recording everything I do and setting me up to fail” and “my ill-wishes on people can and will come true if I dwell on them too long.”. Government conspiracies are one of things he is skeptical about because he thinks most conspiracies are either “CIA admitted to this twenty years ago” or “antisemitism”.

He’s taking online free college classes that don’t actually give him any college credit, but they have good information and help him feel like he’s working towards something. He plans to double major in computer sciences and electrical engineering, minor in marine biology. He’s wanted to join NOAA since he was twelve and he is nothing if not stubborn.

There you go. These are my characters, now. I have custody.

#maximum ride on main #Maximum Ride rewrite

[madslorian]

weekly fic recs!

More recommendations! Everybody seems to love the very first one I posted, which is amazing!!! Everything I have recommended can be found on my {fic rec masterlist}.

Here are all the amazing writers I have included in this weeks recs:

@forever-rogue

@gryffindorwriter

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@dindjarindiaries

@frannyzooey

@opheliaelysia

@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

@winchesterxxi

@pedros-mustache

@pedro-pascal-love

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Frankie “Catfish” Morales}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY FOREVER-ROGUE

Reader and Frankie have been friends for many years and it's finally come to the point where emotions are taking over and you can't sit there and act like you're just friends anymore.

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⊱{Agent Whiskey / Jack Daniels}⊰

“I TRUSTED YOU." / "I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM WITHOUT YOU." BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Takes place during Whiskey's final scene of the movie, but reader has some words to say to him that talk him down

TRUST BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After the reader and Whiskey have a few drinks together before Whiskey's next mission, they share a quick kiss. When Whiskey is shot the next day, there's only one thing that reader can think of to restore his memory

MEMORY BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader loses her memory when she gets shot and despite the agency's efforts to recover them, they seem to be lost for good much to Whiskey's dismay. So he replicates their first date again

MISCOMMUNICATION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Ginger tells Whiskey that reader has been shot and killed on a mission, the pain of losing yet another love begins to settle in when suddenly you're stumbling through the agency doors injured

SCREW TRADITION BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

It's the reader and Whiskey's wedding day and reader is having a panic attack before the ceremony. Jack doesn't give it a second thought before he's rushing through the doors to help alieve all the stress and emotions

REGRETS BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

After a mission goes wrong and Whiskey and reader are facing impending death, they miraculously survive and Whiskey is intrigued when the reader mentions not wanting to have died with regrets

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH ME." / "H-HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN STANDING THERE?" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confides in Ginger when a pregnancy test comes back positive, and stresses over Jack not wanting kids after what happened with his first wife and their child

*SLEEPY SEX BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

NSFW! Reader and Whiskey admit to the sexual tension between them one night during a mission, and as you can assume, smut ensues!

“[CHOKED UP] I THOUGHT I LOST YOU." / “[CHOKED UP] I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE YOU AGAIN" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader is out shopping at a store when Jack sees on the news there was a shooting there, and he immediately rushes to find you with fears of what happened to his high school sweetheart flooding his mind

“WHO ATE ALL THE ADVENT CALENDAR CHOCOLATES?!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader confronts Whiskey about the empty advent calendar only four days into December, and he sends you on a wild goose chase to distract you. Overall the cutest fluff ever!

"WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING? IT'S NOT SAFE OUT THERE!" BY GRYFFINDORWRITER

Reader and Whiskey get into an argument after reader spends more time at work recently. He changes his attitude pretty quickly when you turn to walk out into the cold night

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Javier Peña}⊰

"WE'RE JUST FRIENDS." "FRIENDS DON'T DO THIS TYPE OF SHIT." BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

Okay, think Frankie's version of this prompt (if you read it!)... but a complete 180º. This has a lot of angst and it just makes me realize how much poor Javier needs a hug, desperately.

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⊱{Din Djarin}⊰

SNACK TIME BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 6 of Mandoctober by this author. Absolute fluff between Din and Grogu where dad!Din has to teach Grogu to not play with his food

RAZOR CREST BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 7 of Mandoctober by the author. As Din grows closer with the reader, the term home is something he begins to feel properly identifies what the Razor Crest is for the three of you

AD'IKA BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Day 10 of Mandoctober by the author. This follows Din's usage of the word Ad'ika, or little one, towards Grogu and how the child responds to it

COZY IN THE COCKPIT BY DINDJARINDIARIES

Reader is badly injured when the Razor Crest takes a beating, and in order to save you from hypothermia, Din locks the three of you in the cockpit and cleans up your wounds while Grogu attempts to help too

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Pike}⊰

THE RISING SUN BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

A short story about the reader suffering from depression and anxiety, but has Marcus by their side to face it all. A someone who has been in a (scarily) similar situation to this, it was so comforting hearing the things I both needed to hear and wish I would have heard from my previous s/o

"IF YOU THROW THAT SNOWBALL, THAT MEANS WAR" BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

This is absolutely, 100%, pure fluff. Reader and Marcus are having a fun snow day with their two kids and I melted reading this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Dave York}⊰

*WELL, THIS IS AWKWARD (SERIES) BY PEDRO-PASCAL-LOVE

NSFW! This story awoke something in me... a new interest in Dave x Nanny stories. It follows the events of Equalizer 2, just with the reader added into the plot

(ALSO I AM SO EXCITED THE AUTHOR IS CONTINUING THIS STORY... Y'ALL NEED TO GIVE IT A SHOT!!!)

*DAVE YORK X NANNY DRABBLES/ASKS BY FRANNYZOOEY

NSFW! I found this shortly after finishing Well, This Is Awkward and I love it. These are all drabbles/asks the reader has gotten about certain situations regarding Dave and the Nanny!Reader. It's all the right amount of spice in all the right places

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Ezra}⊰

*AKRASIA BY OPHELIAELYSIA

NSFW! Reader and Ezra are locked down in their ship before being able to dock and part ways. With sexual tension building, there is only so much time left to do something about it

HOLD ON TO THESE WORDS BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader struggles with insomnia and late-night anxieties, meaning Erza never finds himself waking up beside you. However, one night he wakes to you lost in your own mind and comforts you

WILDFLOWER BY OPHELIAELYSIA

Reader is exploring nature one morning before Ezra wakes up and is greeted with the sight of beautiful flowers, which remind you of your lover in the sweetest ways possible

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Pero Tovar}⊰

*CLANDESTINE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero cross paths when Pero is hired for protection in your kingdom before the King arrives for a festival. Lots of small glances and hidden love-making in the dark shadows make for something sweet yet forbidden

*LIKE THOSE FOREIGN STARS BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

NSFW! Reader and Pero are married, but for most of your marriage, he has been off selling his sword. When he is gone for much longer than originally intended on one job, his arrival back home calls for a passionate reunion on the kitchen table, and the floor, and the bed...

*RAISE YOUR HAND TO ME AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR HEART OUT MYSELF BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

NSFW! WARNING: SUGGESTED DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/SPANKING DISCIPLINE, I felt like that was needed before recommending it.

Disclaimer: This is a glorious Outlander AU, but I think it can be read without any knowledge of the show. Reader and Pero are married due to a deal to keep you safe as you travel with him and the other men, and when you step out of line he is expected to reprimand you as your husband. Pero ends up having a change of heart as to what being a husband means to the two of you

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Poe Dameron}⊰

MARRIED TO A SKYWALKER BY WINCHESTERXXI

Adorable headcanons about how life would be if reader was a Skywalker/Solo kid and how interactions would be with Leia and Han

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Oberyn Martell}⊰

DORNISH DELIGHTS (Part 1) (Part 2) BY AUTUMNLEAVES1991

A modern AU where Oberyn owns and runs a shop called Dornish Delights and reader has quickly become one of his favorite customers. There's a strong sense of comfort when picturing this shop and I desperately wish I could go there and be loved by Oberyn like this

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Marcus Moreno}⊰

FIDDLE BY PEDROS-MUSTACHE

An adorable fic about reader fiddling with Marcus' wedding ring beginning on their honeymoon. After ten years reader is worried he is annoyed by it, but all is well in the end

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅

⊱{Max Phillips}⊰

WITH CHERRIES ON TOP (SERIES) BY ITHINKHESGAYBUTWESAVEDMUFASA

I am still actively reading this and am only a couple of chapters in, BUT IT'S A PROPOSAL AU! Brief rundown if you don't know the movie, WITHOUT giving anything major away; The boss is getting deported and creates a fake engagement with the assistant! It's really fun to see this plot with Max plugged into it

#frankie morales x reader #agent whiskey x reader #javier peña x reader #din djarin x reader #marcus pike x reader #dave york x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell x reader #marcus moreno x reader #max phillips x reader #francisco 'catfish' morales #jack daniels #narcos #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #equalizer 2 #din djain #boyd holbrook #pero tovar #oberyn martell #ezra (prospect) #bloodsucking bastards #triple frontier #forever-rogue #gryffindorwriter #autumnleaves1991 #dindjarindiaries #pedros-mustache #pedro-pascal-love