#They find a kid whom is obviously an alien | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

choerrypuffs · 4 years

Text

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

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inknopewetrust · 3 years

Text

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless.

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film.

“May-”

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!”

“May!”

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe.

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her.

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part.

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force.

“We’ll see you in a few weeks, May!”

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time.

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store.

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch.

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to.

“Get back! Get back!”

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know.

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said.

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different.

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse.

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man?

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero.

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window.

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you.

“You scare too easy.”

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-”

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.”

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?”

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.”

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?”

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window.

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother.

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them.

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment.

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet.

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality.

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake.

“Mysterio?”

“What?”

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.”

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.”

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination.

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.”

“Likewise.”

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again.

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already.

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent.

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him.

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree.

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong.

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath.

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin.

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say.

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle.

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.”

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose.

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.”

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking.

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?”

“I suppose so, yes.”

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head.

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?”

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.”

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light.

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?”

“My little brother.”

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.”

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure.

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder.

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.”

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.”

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier.

“May our paths cross again.”

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed.

“Hopefully under better circumstances.”

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago.

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit?

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

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prettypinklass · 3 years

Text

I will ALWAYS pick the Spacer background for Shepherd, because it's the only background where the commander has at least one living parent. With all the shit going on throughout the trilogy, I bet even the commander needs someone they'll know will support them no matter what. The kind of support only a parent can provide.

In honor of that, I have some headcanons for how Hannah Shepherd (Spacer Commander Shepherd's mother) feels about the events of the trilogy.

Hannah Shepherd Headcanons

Mass Effect

She couldn't be prouder. Her kid is a great officer.

And then she hears about the Eden Prime mission

Oh shit

How many times did she call? Probably at least ten times. No answer

She heard the story. Her child is accusing a decorated Spectre of attacking Eden Prime with the geth. Nobody believes them

She gets one call, and it's about a homeless guy on the Citadel. During your work hours.

Then she finds out they proved they were right, and not only did they get the spectre demoted? They got promoted in his place. And their first mission is to track down the demoted spectre.

She tries to call again. No answer. Her kid is probably busy so it's fine.

The most prominent thing she's heard throughout the alliance is complaints that in addition to LT. Alenko (a man she knows is a good officer, having met before) and Cheif Williams, they've recruited a former turian c-sec officer, a krogan mercenary, a Quarian on her pilgrimage (whom she's pretty sure is a teenager still), and an asari archeologist.

She hears stories, and then is stationed on one of the ships that arrives to help the Citadel. The ship they attack- Sovereign as she heard it called- is powerful and all she can think is "what the fuck has my child been doing"

She kills the spectre, they destroy the ship, and now your child has gotten a human onto the council.

You couldn't be prouder. You still haven't heard from them though.

Oh and that news story where she punched the reporter? You have the clip saved.

Mass Effect 2

Her child just got spaced.

FUCK

Hackett approved her leave and she spent more hours then she can count grieving.

They never recovered her child's body. There was a small service. Hackett mentioned something about a memorial for the Normandy.

Then.

She finds out her child is alive.

AND WORKING

FOR A PRO-HUMAN TERRORIST GROUP

WHAT THE FUCK MY CHILD

The stories are insane. Her kid has recruited more aliens, as well as a few criminals, and she hears from Alenko/Williams that they really are working for the pro human terrorist group, investigating the missing human colonies.

She decides she won't even bother trying to contact them. She's still processing that they're even alive.

Then she finds out they blew up a relay

And then they disappeared past the Omega 4 relay before the Alliance could catch them and press charges. Was that the suicide mission she kept hearing about?

Then her child emerges, triumphant and claiming that the collectors are dead.

They get grounded. She finally gets to talk to her briefly, and the conversation goes something like this:

"Sweetie."

"Hi mom."

"Start answering my fucking calls."

"Sorry mom."

"And next time, tell me you're alive and working for a terrorist group. I had to hear it from Alenko/Williams."

"Sorry mom."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"You're grounded."

"...Yeah, that's fair."

Oh and she saved the second clip of her child punching that reporter.

Mass Effect 3

And her kid was right all along. The reapers are here to kill everyone.

They've also been reinstated and have to play politician.

They try to keep in touch a little better. Sending her emails about what's happening.

She saves the third clip of them punching the reporter.

It's hell trying to build the crucible, but she's doing her best to help. The more her child does, the crazier things get.

Her child has cured the genophage and made peace between the krogan and turians, and apparently is an honorary krogan now??

She nearly shot the first rachni she saw on the crucible build site, but this asari lady, who claimed to be their friend, tells her that the rachni are here to help. Courtesy of her child.

She's 100% sure that her computer is bugged because not only are there ships showing up whenever they're low on supplies, SOMEONE keeps emailing her updates on the Normandy and her child, all "courtesy of the Shadow Broker". She's a bit worried her child is being stalked.

Then her child makes peace between Geth and Quarians. The Geth show up to help them build the crucible, and every single one of them seems ecstatic to meet the "Creator of Shepherd-Commander."

Mercenaries show up too, thanks to Aria T'Loak and her child. She still isn't sure how that happened.

The more her child does, the more creatures and people show up to help the war effort.

It's insane.

And she couldn't be prouder.

She gets an invitation one day. From her child.

Apparently, Admiral Anderson gave them his apartment and she's been invited to come over for a bit.

She jumps at this.

The meeting is awkward but she's too happy to see her child to care.

She finally meets her child's friends.

The former turian c sec officer, Garrus

The sarcastic brittle boned pilot, Joker

The Normandy SR-2's AI, EDI, (and she's pretty sure EDI and Joker have something going on)

Specialist Traynor

The krogan leader, Wrex, who cheers and slaps her a little too hard on the back

A tank bred Krogan, Grunt, who she immediately notices seems to think of her child as a parent. She has a krogan for a grandson.

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, who is no longer a teenahe quarian but a full admiral

The asari archeologist, Liara T'Soni, who has a drone for an assistant (and she's suspicious of being the Shadow Broker, based on how familiar she is with her)

An asari justicar, Samara, who is honored to meet you

A former Cerberus officer, Jacob

Miranda, who is a former cerberus officer and obviously isn't naturally that good looking.

Kasumi the master theif, who greets her by sneaking up behind and saying "hi".

Zaeed, a mercenary with a bad attitude

Finally, she meetw Jack. She remembers hearing about her, a former convict who is an extremely powerful and hateful biotic... who is now working as a teacher at Grissom Academy.

Where does her child meet these people??

Her child also tells her about Mordin, Thane and Legion

A salarian scientist who liked to sing

A drell assassin who was terminally ill, but saved the life of the Salarian councilor

And a geth, the geth that aided her in making peace between the Quarians and geth.

And then they tell you about this weird clone that tried to steal the Normandy and kill them.

She still doesn't understand that part.

Then, after all that, her child dies stopping the reapers.

She couldn't be prouder.

And she will always miss them.

#hannah shepherd #Shepherd #headcanons #mass effect #Spacer background #me1 #me2 #me3 #mass effect 2 #mass effect 3

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pencilofawesomeness · 2 years

Note

Noticed in your tags about a mystogan-albedo comparison... 👀👀 What about a genshin impact-fairy tail crossover? What characters would you love see interact, HTRYDS or not?

Fam I thought so hard about this, I forgot it in my drafts. I blame the fact that it somehow gave me a mini existential crisis that I hadn't previously considered a genshin impact-fairy tail crossover, despite the fact that I love those two fandoms, and I love crossovers.

Obviously I don't have anything concrete, but I am more than happy to share some of the random thoughts I put together since you asked. Planning crossovers always makes me happy.

Rambling in 3...2...1...

My go to is always dumping characters in Mondstadt. Maybe because Mondstadt is my comfort-nation, and for some reason, Genshin makes me want to let the characters relax a little. Unless they're from Mondstadt, in which case, ha: sad boi stick. (I love the Mondstadt characters so much.) If I were to set a scenario in an actual-story style, I would probably still go loose with the plot part and make it more scenario-based. For instance, when the Fairy Tail peeps (plus Mystogan) get transported very conveniently from Edolas to Earthland, they could get dumped in Teyvat instead. Or, because my brain is stuck on HTRYDS because what is canon?, Some Other Thing happens and sticks a large chunk on them off-world and they have to find their way back. In the spirit of 100YQ and things-I-probably-won't-write, I'd even displace the entire guild, because it would be hilarious.

The multiverse is canon in both franchises, so the possibility of them being connected isn't out of the question. Besides, you know what both worlds have? (not currently in abundance) That's right, dragons.

I really want Natsu to find out about Dvalin and just....hyperactive his way into Stormterror's Lair, with absolutely no recognition but no fear, and find Dvalin just to question him about Dragon Stuff. The other dragon slayers would "go to stop him" but also tag along because dragon. Or more specifically, dragon that's not Acno and not an Earthland dragon. ("Alien dragons" —Natsu, probably.) Either way, Dvalin would be confused, and Acno would be in the back banging his head on something and/or trying to drag the kids away from invading the home of a dragon for curiosity's sake.

On that note, Acno would be very weirded out by the fact that there are some dragons around, but...none of them would associate him with, well, being the ultimate dragon killer. That said, he wouldn't be comfortable. At least not at first.

I also would like to think that any of the dragonlings could just...immediately know that Zhongli was a dragon. By scent or something. Zhongli would be very bemused.

Also, Zhongli and Acno could have old-man bonding time, except for once, Zhongli out-old-mans Acno by a lot, and he acts like it. (Loke being the only other ancient guy around.) Not to mention they could bond over committing war-crimes. (I kid. Sorta.)

Albedo would be very interested in the slew of otherworlders who can do magic without Visions, as it would make his scientist brain happy. I totally would love for someone to point at the fact that Albedo is somehow a cross between Mystogan and Jellal—smart, obsessive researcher, doesn't think highly of himself, quiet, doesn't like crowds—and he gets christened as the Ultimate Jellal. All three of them would be very confused, especially Albedo.

That said, Albedo and (htryds) Natsu actually have a lot in common. Being that they are both non-humans who were created by a family(ish) figure (whom they care for) but was yeeted away with little to no explanation as to why. I don't know if they would actually discover this about each other in a crossover scenario, since this stuff is kept close to the chest (especially with Albedo) but it's fun to compare them nonetheless.

Erza would be, absolutely thrilled with the amount of honest-to-God knights. (Even if none of the Knights of Favonius are stereotypical, they have the title and part of the aesthetic, and Erza would geek out nonetheless.) Like, other people who use swords, wear armor, and uses magic?? (Elements, whatever.) She would fascinated. On that note, I would totally want to see Erza and Eula meet, because those two would be quite the pair. Erza would appreciate Eula's fighting style, and she wouldn't even blink at her use of expressions. Eula would be off-put by Erza's sincerity at first, of course, but Eula would appreciate the simultaneous lack of judgement and lack of pity, since Erza has zero context for Eula's background. That said, Erza would 100% deck somebody for saying something mean about Eula.

If the FT gang is, say, crashing Mondstadt in particular while looking for a way home, there would be plenty of opportunity for random interaction. For instance, Kaeya would probably pick Gray out of the crowd and pester him. It would be claimed to be on account of the ice-make magic, but really, it's because Gray has the exact same disposition as Diluc. And pestering Diluc really is just second-hand for Kaeya. (He knows that it's the only way he can check up on the grumpy sour-puss and get a read on how he's doing, probably.)

Cana and Venti would have a drinking competition. Diluc would have an aneurism. I do not know who would win.

They would totally hang around the Adventurer’s Guild people and help them out in the meantime, while the KoF are trying their best, because guild! adventure! Fischl would be overwhelmed by the sheer number of actual otherworlders, and it might hurt Amy’s brain a tad. Still, she would be enthusiastic. Oz would be fascinated by the Exceeds, probably. (Flying companion comradery, lol.) Bennett would probably blame himself for every crazy thing that happens, but honestly, FT has whack luck of their own so they’re just rolling with it.

On a similar note, the Traveler would help out and vibe with them. They would probably compare Paimon to, like, Happy too, but Paimon would probably be offended because she’s ‘not a pet’ but then the Exceeds are the same way, so they might actually bond. Paimon and Happy have the same amount of brain cells anyway... That, and Traveler would understand the whole other world bit. Maybe they could even help the gang get back to their own world. (I mean, they know where the gate is, they’re just not going to leave without their twin.) Though then the ‘raiding Celestia’ bit would be, like, an actual plot, so that’s another thing. If anyone would be down with fighting literal gods though, FT would be crazy enough.

Klee and Natsu would get along like a house on fire. Literally. RIP Mondstadt. (Though I guess htryds-Natsu is better with reckless younger siblings, so actually, he might be Ultimate Babysitter. He can feed into her excitement, but if she sets anything on fire, he could just...eat it.)

If they ever make it into Liyue, their antics will probably give the Qixing quite the headache. Xingqiu would ask soooo many prodding questions. So would Hu Tao. She would probably talk about death just onneee too many times and Natsu would start making scarce, lol. (On that note, would Xiao notice? Would someone try to exorcise Natsu? Hmm. Granted Xiao is surprisingly patient with non-violent apparitions, and Natsu is alive despite having died, so he’ll probably just be huffy about it and let it go.)

Xiangling will have an army of loyal dragon slayers if she feeds them. They will all be so, so happy, even with the weird stuff she wants to cook.

And I’m running out of ideas, but if, for some reason, Lucy could still summon celestial spirits, I would love for Aquarius and the Oceanid to try and just, out-sass and out-water each other. It would be hilarious. They probably would even out in ability, but they’re both so prideful, that would bother them.

#fairy tail #genshin impact #htryds #ask #headcanons #so sorry this took forever #and it's not coherent but that's what my brain be like #I could tag all of those characters but there are so many #uh #fairy tail x genshin impact #crossover

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avpdrecovery-old · 3 years

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very suspicious minds

at the heart of the suffering with avpd is suspicion. suspicion of the world around us, the people around us, their actions and what they means for us and potentially our safety. every micro-expression, unconscious body language is taken apart and evaluated.

in my case, it is from here that everything else fans out. avoidance, hypervigilence, anxiety to do the simplest things such as run errands, talking on the phone, sending job applications, interacting with people, epecially new people... at the core of it all is the suspicion that nothing is as it seems. that there is some plot i am unaware of and need to stay away from.

pre-avpd, i was still a child, i never thought i was important enough or had done anything egregious enough to warrant anyone “plotting” against me. it just didn’t make sense. i was not a bully, i was not popular enough to warrant jealousy from other kids. i was just average and had no enemies to speak of, who does at eleven?

i think it is because of this (and my trigger, explained here) that my mind grew overly suspicious of everyone and everything. if there had been something to explain the behaviour of my bullies, outside of the fact that they just didn’t like me, i think i would have been able to stomach it better, i don’t know. but there was no reason behind their bullying, which meant from then on, my brain was going to watch out and try to protect me from anyone and everything. whether i liked it or not.

it is normal to be nervous when interacting with new people, whether we’re kids or grown ups. after all as humans, we natually do not want to be rejected or abandoned by the group. as a “former” extrovert i still remember the thrill of walking up to kids on the playground or at family gatherings excited that i had found someone to play with. however, the thrill/fear that i felt then was small and didn’t stop me from interacting, i just pushed through it. and even if there was rejection and they didn’t want to play, the rejection didn’t linger, i would simply find someone else, or play on my own in the meantime.

however, post-avpd, my mind has never been the same and it started slowly. after that summer, we moved again and i changed schools again. i remember telling myself that this time things would be different, after all i had finally left those insufferable girls behind me. in fact i remember walking up to them, after all that had happened, and telling them that i would be moving away soon and wouldn’t have to deal with their bullshit anymore. lil eleven year old me actually told off her bullies, can you imagine?!

anyway, the new school full of new kids was upon me, but i just couldn’t stop the programing that was suddenly running in the back of my brain. suspicion.exe had been started and there was no way to turn it off. every friendly face i encountered felt like it might be hiding a smirk, like it might just be a ploy to get me to let my guard down. after all, exactly that had just happened and it had nearly cost me my life. how was i to know what was genuine and what was a plot? i kept my guard up and slowly turned cold.

i’m sure puberty hormones as well as age played into this as well, but i also became extremely fearful of humiliation and embarassment. not exactly the best thing when you’re at an age where you’re supposed to be learning to make mistakes, grow up and do many things for the first time. but mistakes = embarassment and potential for humiliation. and that meant possible rejection, abandonment or even worse, so the avoidance slowly crept in. i started avoiding other kids, activities, places, etc... unless i was 100% sure i would be safe somehow.

my mother said she observed me, the playground aficionado and lover of swings and slides everywhere, back away from one and insist on going home when i saw a group of kids there. this had been unheard of before, but she just assumed i was growing older and didn’t want to play childishly anymore. little did she know that everything had become a potential trap for humiliation to me, speaking to other kids, speaking to boys, saying something in class, etc...

a few years after that, i viscerally remember being afraid to order something from mcdonalds on my own. this is coming from someone who had spent every visit as a child in those god forsaken ballpits. but suddenly, i just couldn’t, couldn’t even go inside the restaurant. just picturing myself going to mcdonalds, set me off and made me feel ill. if it hadn’t been for a friend who unknowingly gave me a tutorial on how to do it, i would never have stepped foot in one ever again.

making friends became hell, because i seemingly couldn’t read people anymore, couldn’t decide whom to trust and whom not to. in fact, pre-avpd trust had never even crossed my mind. we either got along or we didn’t. if we did we were friends, otherwise we weren’t, no hard feelings. now, i suddenly found myself trying to figure out whom it was even safe to even talk to and whom not. all the while suspicion.exe rattled away in my brain, constantly making me feel i was in danger. looking back, i can say that every friendship i have ever had since (an they are not many), has been somewhat onesided from my end. i never revealed my true feelings, fears and problems, since those too were potential sources of humiliation. and i didn’t trust anyone enough to not use that against me. even though i had several bffs during my teen years, girls with whom i hung out one on one for years on end, i can say that non of them knew what was actually going on in my head, because i never told them. i wore a mask, a mask that was essentially me but watered down, and nothing real ever came to the surface. in fact this level of trust, that you could just tell your friend what you are really thinking and feeling or whom you have a crush on or some other secret thing, is alien to me now that i think about it.

a lot has happened since then obviously, i’ll probably return to this subject again, to explain how suspicion has affected me since. but i can sadly say that that programing is still running today. with other settings of course, but it’s still there. i should also add, none of this was conscious. i was doing all these things, but i wasn’t even aware. only in looking back am i able to connect the dots like this.

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delphinidin4 · 3 years

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“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma

I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol

*unleashes inner academic*

Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized

Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home.

Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING. You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.

All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.

Trauma 2: William’s absence

It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that,

dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’

Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:

Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.

Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.

One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.

For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.

In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.

And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”

Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.

It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.” Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.

Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures

Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.

Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional connection between them until considerably later in the story.

[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]

Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding: “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”

JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?

He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.

There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:

I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.

Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.

Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well). It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn’t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as

“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.”

We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.

It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:

Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.

[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears: “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]

Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).

Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)

Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:

They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.

They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but

A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.

You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:

“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”

It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:

He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.

One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?

That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.

Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)

Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.

Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.

We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:

That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.

[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]

Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:

Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.

Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund’s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.

Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:

Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.

~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~

“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.”

*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.

I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.

Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses

Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.

Anxiety and Hypervigilance

People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.

Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:

She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.

Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.

Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.

Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:

The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.

Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.

Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing

Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to. To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.

In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).

Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:

[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.

Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.

Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:

When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”

Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!�� But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.

In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,

There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”

As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.

Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.

[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]

Low self-esteem

I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:

The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.

This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:

[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”

[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”

“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”

“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”

“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”

Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.

[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]

Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:

[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”

[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”

“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”

“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”

“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”

She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.

I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*

[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:

Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.

Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.]

“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity

In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*

[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,] The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]

There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS

is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)

While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.

It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)

What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.

Conclusions

At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:

[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.

#jane austen #mansfield park #trauma #c-ptsd #literature #tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk

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amanda-teaches · 4 years

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Shockwave (2)

Series Summary: When you’re caught in an attack and get struck by an enemy shock wave, Bucky saves you and brings you to the Avengers for help. They quickly discover that the wave altered your genetic structure to send out energy bursts, energy bursts that you can’t control. Fearful of the damage you could cause, you refuse to be around anyone except superhumans Steve and Bucky, the latter of whom you form a quick, intense bond with while he teaches you to control your newfound powers.

Chapter Summary: In the aftermath of the attack, you wind up unconscious in a hospital bed surrounded by Avengers. Upon waking up, you feel fine, but all of you quickly discover that is not, in fact, the case.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1969

Warnings: Medical situation, swearing, intense moments, injuries

A/N: Thank you all for reading and giving this story a chance. I appreciate every single comment and reblog.

Shockwave Masterlist

A memory tugged ever so softly at the edges of your consciousness.

It was fuzzy, out of focus, but it was insistent, pulling you out of the inky darkness you’d found a home in.

Eyes, clouded grey with fear. Whispered pleas, hurried and frantic. Four words, repeated over and over, keeping you from slipping away. “Stay with me. Please.”

You could see the images so clearly, playing on a loop in your head, but you couldn’t quite reach them. They were far off, clouded, but the voices breaking through them weren’t, tugging you even further out of your haze.

“I don’t understand it, Tony. I’ve never seen anyone survive a blast like that before. It should be impossible.”

“Yeah, Bruce, because aliens invading Earth seems so possible every time that happens.”

“Tony…”

“Look, she’s here, okay, so that obviously means she survived. It’s clearly possible. Let’s just figure out how.”

There was a pause and then a long sigh. “But, a blast like that, that much energy, the damage it must’ve done…”

Damage. The word, and its implications, began careening through your mind, making you gasp, albeit involuntarily. It was soft, but it was enough to quiet the voices in the room, a new one quickly replacing them.

“Y/N? Can you hear us?”

It was a woman’s voice, close, warm. You blinked your eyes open, focusing on the soft smile of Dr. Helen Cho. Another face you recognized from the documentaries. You were really starting to hate those documentaries. “Where am I?”

Her smile widened, and she held up a small penlight, shining it in both of your eyes. “You’re at the medical facility in our compound. Upstate New York.”

New York. How could you have gotten to New York without remembering? You wracked your brain, but then those whispered words came back to you, fragmented but bright as day, and you knew. “Bucky.”

Dr. Cho’s smile softened the same way your voice did, and she nodded. “He got to you after you…” She paused, looking back at the others to find the right words. “After you were hit. He carried you out of the rubble, and the team brought you here.”

You furrowed your brow, trying to remember, but everything was still too much of a blank. “Is he?”

She nodded her head towards the corner, anticipating your question. “He’s here. He never left.”

Your eyes moved instantly, shifting on their own accord until they found Bucky’s in a sea of bright lights and blinking screens. His eyes flashed when you made contact, blinking once but otherwise staying unreadable. He did, however, straighten up from where he was leaning against the wall, placing the foot he’d been resting against it back onto the ground.

He was staring silently at you, obviously waiting for you to speak again, so you did, saying the first thing that popped into your mind. “Is the kid okay?”

His eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your question, but the edges of his mouth tugged upwards and he nodded. “He’s fine. Not a scratch on him.”

“Thanks to you,” Tony said, stepping forward. He moved between you and Bucky, so you tried to look around him, but Bucky shot you a reassuring grin and looked Tony’s way, signaling for you to follow his lead.

“Maybe not the smartest decision,” he continued, gesturing towards where you had ended up. “But, a damn gutsy one. Although, next time you might want to duck first.”

Bucky’s face hardened, and he tightened his fist. “She’s a hero, Stark…”

You interrupted him, your voice quiet and unsteady, but clear enough to break through, stopping the brewing fight. “When can I go home?”

All of the eyes in the room turned to you, but their somber expressions did little to bolster your confidence. “I am going home, aren’t I?”

Bucky took a step towards you, but Tony just hung his head, leaving you to turn to Bruce. He looked almost pained watching you, wringing his hands and taking a deep breath to respond. “Honestly, we’re not sure.”

You began to feel panic prickle up your spine, and you used your forearms to push yourself up to a sitting position, accepting Dr. Cho’s help to get the rest of the way. “What does that mean, you’re not sure?”

The three of them exchanged a glance, some kind of silent communication passing between them, and you knew this wasn’t the first time they were discussing this. Tony finally sighed, ending the standoff and turning to answer your question. “From all appearances, you look fine. You don’t have any serious injuries, all of the tests come back normal. Theoretically, you should be able to go home.”

Theoretically. “But?”

Another sigh, this one even heavier than the last, sprinkled with sympathy, but filled with frustration. “The shockwave isn’t like anything we’ve ever seen before. It’s done more damage than we first thought. It seems to have somehow...altered your genetic structure.”

A foreboding sense of horror washed over you, and your eyes found Bucky’s once again, shaking your head, trying to convince yourself it couldn’t be true. His slow nod back told you otherwise.

That was the moment you really lost it. Panic flowed through your veins like ice and bubbled straight up to the surface, seeping out of you in waves. “No, no, that’s...no.” You stood up from the bed quickly, flipping your palms out, fingers spread wide. “See, I’m fine, completely normal. My genetic structure is just as...geneticy as it always is.”

You stepped forward, but Dr. Cho rushed around the bed to intercept you. “Y/N, please, you should really rest.”

You shook your head, more insistently this time, your hand gestures growing more wild. “No, I told you, I’m fine! Whatever tests you ran, you can just run them again, right? I’m sure you’re…”

“Y/N.”

You froze at the warning in Bucky’s voice, spinning your head around to reveal the three seasoned superheroes backing away slowly, their bodies tensed. But, they weren’t looking at you, they were looking at your hands.

Trailing your eyes down, you felt your pulse quicken with every breath, every millisecond. But, the real fear didn’t come until your eyes finally reached your hands, and you saw purple static streaming in the air around your fingertips. Bands of energy, crackling and fluctuating, and all of it was coming from you.

That’s when your heart really started beating out of control. “What is...what’s happening to me?!”

Dr. Cho stepped closer, holding her hands up warily like she was approaching a wounded animal. “Y/N, please, just get back in bed...”

“No!” you screamed, throwing your arms down towards the ground to keep her away.

That’s when everything went to hell.

All of it must’ve happened in just seconds, but, to you, it felt like an eternity. Time slowed to a standstill as you watched the room blast apart, a giant wave of purple pushing back everything and everyone in its path.

The power from the blast knocked you back into the medical cart, but all you could focus on was what it was doing to the others. It didn’t discriminate, cutting through each of them like a blade, sending all four of them flying up into the air and back into the walls with sickening crunches.

You could feel yourself scream but no sound came out, the shock of what you’d just done hanging too heavy. It was surreal, like a movie, but you weren’t watching it, you were living it, had caused it, caused the destruction laid out in front of you.

Tony stirred first, pushing himself out from underneath the rubble with a loud curse and moan. Bucky followed, immediately moving towards you, but you backed away clutching your hands to your chest and shaking your head. “No, no. Stay where you are. I’ll just hurt you again.”

Bucky slowed, but he kept advancing, holding one of his hands out gingerly towards you. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, cocking a smile that made his eyes shine. ““You can’t hurt me, Y/N. Super soldier, remember?”

And, just like that, a wave of calm washed over you, because you could feel his confidence, his gentleness. You knew he really believed what he was saying, because if anyone had been there it was him. He wanted to help you, to take care of you, and you trusted him.

You reached your hand out to brush against his fingers, but, before you could grasp the lifeline he was offering, Tony drew him back, his voice suddenly filling with alarm. “Barnes, the doctor.”

Bucky spun around to find Tony and Bruce kneeling by Dr. Cho, who was still lying unconscious across the room. He inhaled sharply and stepped back from where you stood, rooted to your spot by the medical cart, disbelief still coursing through you.

The three of them stayed huddled by her side for a moment until she started to stir, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Bruce helped her up, casting a watchful glance your way as he ushered her out of the room, while Tony and Bucky turned back to you.

Bucky made his way back to you without hesitation, placing his hands on your shoulders and capturing your gaze. “Hey, don’t worry, she’s going to be fine. Bruce will take care of her.” You tried to shut your eyes, to disassociate, but he protested. “Look at me, it’s not your fault, okay? None of this was your fault.”

“Barnes is right,” Tony said quickly, breaking his silence. “We’re going to help you, Y/N.”

He started to walk toward you when Bucky turned to face him, but you freaked out, grabbing Bucky’s arm and moving to hide behind him. “No,” you whispered, placing your forehead against his back and shaking it slowly. “I’ll hurt him.”

Bucky reached across, placing his hand over yours and squeezing softly. “I got you. It’s gonna be okay.”

Gently, he lifted your fingers, dropping your hand and moving to meet Tony halfway. He shook his head, grabbing his shoulder and leading him away, where the two of them began to confer quietly, something Bucky seemed to do a lot around you. You made a mental note to tell him how infuriating that was.

After a few moments, Tony nodded and Bucky turned back to you, his encouraging smile finding its way back to his eyes. “Y/N, I know you’re scared. Scared is an understatement. I’m sure you’re fucking terrified. But, I can promise you, you’re not going to hurt anyone else. I’m not going to let that happen, okay?”

You nodded, and he reached his hand out again, holding it out to you just as he had before. “I know I can’t make you do anything, and I know you probably think you’re past saving, but we can help you, Y/N, I know we can. If you stay here, if you trust me, I swear to you, our team, we’ll do everything in our power to fix you. We will find a cure.” He extended his hand out even further, waiting for you to make the choice. “Will you let us try?”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart vibrating as you thought about your options. You could very easily say no, run away from it all, and go hide in the mountains where you couldn’t hurt anyone else, but then you thought about your family and friends, of any chance you had of ever being able to see them again without blasting them across the room. Staring into Bucky’s eyes, you knew there was only one thing you could do. The choice was clear and you made it without any hesitation.

You grabbed his hand.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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not-majestic-bluenicorn · 3 years

Text

Crescent || Chapter 9

Fandom(s): ATEEZ

AU: Treasure Hunters

Genre: Action, Fantasy, Sci-Fi

Relationship: Everyone x Everyone, Established Hongjoong x Yunho

Language: English

Status: Ongoing

Chapter WC: 4,590 words

Warnings: Character Death, Stabbing, Fighting, Blood, Aliens, War, Funerals, Kidnapping, Attempted Kidnapping, Mentions of Child Abuse / Child Work, Explosions, Murder Attempt, Robbery, Homeless/Runaway Character, more will be added.

Chapter Warnings: Blood, mentions of amputation.

Summary:

"I want to help Hongjoong with the map," he declared as he stood in front of Yunho, stopping him from walking away.

"That is not part of your duties, also, he is Captain to you," Yunho replied, looking down at Yeosang. "Limit yourself to doing your duties, that's it." Yunho stepped aside to continue walking but Yeosang stepped aside too, blocking him again. He put his hands up to keep Yunho from stumbling on him, and then looked up at him.

"I learned everything there was to learn from my father, who was the best Space Artist in Tebos," Yeosang's eyes were fierce. "I want to help the Captain."

AO3

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Tagged: @angel0taiyo

A few days after the whole incident with Yeosang, Wooyoung found himself in Umeri. Obviously The Crescent wasn't there anymore, but at least Wooyoung was able to keep track of them that way. He had continued visiting Yeosang in his dreams, using the opportunity to learn more about the other crew members.

Yeosang especially liked to talk about Mingi and Jongho, whom he had become close with. Wooyoung liked to hear him talk about them, since he had never seen him act brighter than when he was telling Wooyoung something new he had learned about them. It was endearing, and it also gave him hope that things would go as they were supposed to.

That night, however, Wooyoung decided to visit someone other than Yeosang. Choosing between Mingi and Jongho had been difficult, but in the end he had opted to introduce himself to Mingi first, since he seemed to be the most welcoming out of the two and the less likely to ask questions Wooyoung wasn't ready to answer. It wasn't too difficult to find Mingi's dreams.

The necklace seemed to be especially tuned to the people that formed part of his destiny in a more direct way. Plus, with all the practice he had gotten with Yeosang, he was already learning to identify which 'path', so to speak, led to the dreams of which person. He had also gotten used to sleeping at irregular times, adapting to the schedule of the crew he was following instead, so it wasn't especially hard to find Mingi.

When he entered the dream, Wooyoung found himself in a cozy underground home, which formed part of a larger network of interconnected caves that made up what Wooyoung assumed to be Mingi's hometown. Wooyoung navigated along the corridors following his instinct. Naturally, he had never been there, but he had gotten so much better at connecting with the owners of the dreams that he was able to find his way easily.

He found Mingi sitting with a bunch of kids surrounding him, some half asleep while others followed his hands enthusiastically as he told them a story. Wooyoung quickly realized that this was some sort of nursery, as the floor was covered with thick blankets that served as the kids' beds. He stopped at the entrance of the room and listened in silence to Mingi's story, not wanting to disrupt him.

"And then what did you do?!" One of the kids asked, the excitement making him jump up and down.

"I ran back into the cave, of course!" Mingi laughed, trying to calm the kid down at the same time. "What if someone was hurt and needed help? I couldn't leave them behind."

"Mingi is a hero!" A little girl exclaimed, accidentally waking up one of the other kids that had already fallen asleep. Mingi was quick to soothe the kid back to sleep as he chuckled, prompting the two excited kids to sit back down so he could finish telling his story. The two kids finally sat down, looking up at Mingi with wide eyes and expressions of pure awe. Wooyoung had to keep himself from chuckling since he didn't want to get the other's attention just yet, but it was endearing to see him like that, surrounded by kids.

"What happened next then?" A kid asked, impatient because they wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"So I went back into the mine, right?" Mingi continued, and the kids nodded enthusiastically. "I heard someone crying for help, so I ran to them. A rock had hit their head and they couldn't see because it was dark and they were bleeding!"

All of the kids gasped, and Wooyoung was so absorbed by the story that he couldn't help his own gasp. He covered his mouth quickly, panicking for a moment until he realized Mingi hadn't noticed him just yet. He sighed softly and put his hands down, focusing back on the story.

"It was Lily, as you might remember," Mingi told the kids, who nodded enthusiastically. "I helped her out, but right as we were going to leave the mine, we heard a very loud cracking sound."

Wooyoung leaned closer much like the kids, completely lost in the emotions Mingi portrayed through his voice. For a moment, he forgot this was nothing more than a dream made out of Mingi's memories and he found himself present in his reality, on his home planet, listening to a bedtime story with the rest of the kids. For a moment, he forgot why he was there in the first place and just listened.

"When we looked up, we saw this big boulder breaking off of the mountain and falling towards us!" Mingi made a big gesture with his hands, imitating the sounds of the boulder falling down. "We ran, but we didn't have enough time, so I pushed Lily away from the impact zone with all the force that I had!" Mingi folded his leg and showed his wooden prosthetic to the kids. "The rock fell on my leg and trapped it, so I lost it, but it's okay because me and Lily are alive, and I get to tell this story to you."

Mingi smiled as he was enveloped in hugs by the kids that were still awake. They all told him he was like a superhero and that he was so cool and so brave and Mingi just chuckled, nodding at them and patting their heads. It didn't take long before the kids began asking him to tell them another story, but Mingi shook his head instead.

"You have to sleep, it's late already." He stood up and began tucking the kids in.

Wooyoung was focused observing Mingi's leg, wondering how much it must have hurt him to lose it, and if it still hurt. He didn't realize Mingi was looking at him until he stopped listening to the incessant chatter of the kids and looked up. The kids, the room, everything around them had disappeared and Mingi was just staring at him with a mix of confusion and distrust.

His pose was defensive, and Wooyoung immediately cursed himself for slipping like that. He hadn't meant to disturb Mingi's dream and ruin it for him. The other had seemed to be happy playing and talking to the kids, and Wooyoung wanted to see more of that, but he had been careless and Mingi had discovered him.

"I'm so sorry, I-" Wooyoung began apologizing. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop like that, I didn't know you were talking about-" Wooyoung looked towards Mingi's leg for a moment and Mingi stepped away, trying to hide it with the rest of his body.

"Who are you? What is this?" Mingi asked. He seemed ashamed and confused, hurt. Wooyoung felt horrible.

"I'm Wooyoung, and we are inside your dream," Wooyoung went straight to the point, feeling bad enough for Mingi and not wanting to confuse him more.

"That would explain why I was with the kids and not..." Mingi looked around, wary of the darkness that surrounded them. Wooyoung extended a hand and, with some effort, materialized The Crescent how he remembered it.

"And not on Captain Hongjoong's ship?" Wooyoung offered

"H-How do you know?" Mingi asked, visibly surprised.

"I know a lot of things..." Wooyoung sighed. "I uhm... You could say the Universe sent me here on a mission?" It was getting harder and harder to come up with explanations to hide his identity, and he was beginning to get a bit tired of it.

"So you are like... A messenger from the future?" Mingi asked, not convinced. Wooyoung grimaced but nodded anyway.

"Let's leave it at that for now," He decided, not wanting to make things more complicated. "I'm really sorry, though."

"It's fine..." Mingi looked at his leg. "It's not like I can hide the fact that I'm missing half a leg that easily."

"Yes but it's your story, you should be able to choose who to tell it to," Wooyoung sighed. "I shouldn't have eavesdropped into your story, I should have 'awoken' you as soon as I got here."

Mingi considered Wooyoung for a moment. He understood where his curiosity had come from, since most people asked him how he had lost his leg almost immediately after meeting him, even some of the crew members aboard The Crescent had done it. He didn't like it when people asked him like that, it made him feel like some sort of circus, and a lot of them also pitied him.

Sure, the kids considered him a hero, and even some of the adults at his town had thought of him as one for a while. But after losing his leg he had become basically useless to the community. He was still one of the best at managing explosives, but due to his injury he couldn't work with as much efficiency as before, and the attitude of others towards him had changed because of that.

Still, Wooyoung seemed to understand why it was important to him, and looked truly apologetic. Mingi didn't have the heart to stay mad at this stranger that had found his way into his dream. He sighed and shrugged, deciding it was best to just put this situation behind him. He couldn't be any more self conscious about it than he was already.

"It's fine, don't worry about it anymore," Mingi smiled. "Thanks for apologizing, though."

"It's the least I can do, since I can't undo what I've heard..." Wooyoung mumbled, turning around and observing the rest of the deck. "Is my imitation of the ship good enough?"

"There's a couple of things off," Mingi pointed out, looking around as well. "But it's pretty close, how did you know what it looks like?"

"I told you, I know a lot of stuff," Wooyoung smiled mischievously. "I won't deny I had some help, but you'll figure that out later."

"Why are you visiting my dreams?" Mingi asked instead, not really one to insist over secrets.

"Well, you're part of a very important mission that you and me, and a few others, must carry out!" Wooyoung explained, happy that they were moving past the awkwardness from before.

"And what is that mission? Who are the others?" Mingi felt his interest peak. How could someone like him be part of an important mission in any way? That didn't make much sense. "Are you sure you have the right person?"

"Of course I have the right person!" Wooyoung seemed surprised at this question. "Are you implying the Universe is wrong?" He frowned.

"Well, no, but..." Mingi lowered his eyes, looking at the polished floor of the deck. "Someone like me isn't suited for great things."

"I'm not letting you say that in front of me," Wooyoung grumbled, grabbing Mingi's hands. "The Universe never lies, and I'm a messenger of the Universe, so you're gonna have to stop that train of thought and get off of it."

Mingi looked up at him and blushed, he hadn't expected Wooyoung to be so bold when he had looked so apologetic and small before. Despite their height difference, Mingi couldn't help but feel so small in front of his presence. Wooyoung was looking at him with such an intensity that Mingi felt truly looked at for the first time, and it made his heartbeat pick up.

"Okay..." He nodded, because he simply didn't know how else to answer to something like that. "Won't you tell me what this is about, though?"

"I can't yet," Wooyoung shook his head. He smiled at him right after and gave a soft squeeze to Mingi's hands. "I'll tell you more when the time is right, but for now just believe in me, okay?"

"Okay..." Mingi whispered.

"I have to go, we'll see each other again!" Wooyoung smiled, giving one last squeeze before disappearing. It took a while before Mingi was able to look away from where he had been standing.

Yeosang had been briefed on their mission after a couple of days in the ship, and while he had been assigned to more menial tasks aboard the vessel, he had been itching to talk with Hongjoong and offer him his help. As he had told Wooyoung, he felt indebted to their Captain, who had not only saved his life but also offered him a way out of Tebos. Now Yeosang wanted to repay him doing what he knew best: sailing.

He was helping clean the deck when he saw Yunho pass by and immediately approached him. Yunho was a bit intimidating, and Yeosang was conscious about the fact that, at first, the First Mate hadn't wanted him aboard the ship. But he couldn't just barge into Hongjoong's quarters without permission, and the only one who could give him permission other than the Captain was, for some reason, Yunho.

"I want to help Hongjoong with the map," he declared as he stood in front of Yunho, stopping him from walking away.

"I learned everything there was to learn from my father, who was the best Space Artist in Tebos," Yeosang's eyes were fierce. "I want to help the Captain."

Yunho raised an eyebrow and held Yeosang's stare until he eventually closed his eyes and sighed. It was easy to tell that Yeosang was determined to do something more than menial tasks. Yunho could understand, of course, but that didn't mean he liked it. Still, Yeosang had been eyeing him and Hongjoong nonstop since he had joined as an official crew member and it didn't seem like he was going to let it go.

"Fine, I'll take you to talk to him," Yunho conceded, smirking when he saw the smile of victory on Yeosang's lips. "But if the Captain says no, it's no, and you'll go back to fulfill the rest of your tasks."

"Deal," Yeosang nodded, stepping away from Yunho's personal space. "Can I go meet him now?"

"Sure, the sooner he rejects you, the sooner I get my peace back," Yunho couldn't help but smile when he saw Yeosang's offended face turn back at him.

Yunho guided him towards the quarters and knocked twice before opening the door. Hongjoong was slumped on the table muttering something to himself while San paid attention to one of the map segments reflected on the wall. Yeosang gasped. He attempted to walk off and examine the map himself, but Yunho stopped him by grabbing onto the back of his shirt.

"Captain, Yeosang wants to talk with you," Yunho said, ignoring the glare Yeosang was directing at him before letting him go.

Hongjoong sat straight up on his chair and sighed, nodding to signal they could come in. He looked absolutely exhausted, Yeosang noted. From what he had heard from the rest of the crew, they hadn't been able to progress much in their search for the Treasure of the Seven Galaxies. Yeosang couldn't blame them though, that treasure had been looked for for years upon years, and no one had found it yet.

"What is it?" Hongjoong asked, gathering San's attention as well.

"I want to help you decipher the map," Yeosang pointed to the projection box that rested on the table. "I learned everything there is to know about navigation and maps from my father, he liked to go looking after treasures in his free time, I'm sure I can help."

"At this point, I'm willing to accept help from anyone," Hongjoong rubbed his face, frustrated. "We haven't made much progress, I don't know how San isn't going crazy." San just shrugged in response, paying close attention to Yeosang instead.

"So you'll give him a chance?" Yunho asked, masterfully ignoring Yeosang's pretentious stare.

"Sure, why not? Maybe what we need is some fresh input." Hongjoong gestured towards the map. "It's all yours."

Yunho shook his head and sighed in defeat, bidding his farewell before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Yeosang immediately took to pacing around the room, observing the map carefully. The map itself was divided in a grid, but most of the squares were obscured, and when touched, they asked for a password. It was like a puzzle, but instead of placing the pieces, you needed to unlock them.

"Do you know the poem to decoding the passwords?" Yeosang asked. "I know there is one, but I haven't heard it since I was a kid, so I don't remember it well."

"Yes," San nodded. He was still following Yeosang with his eyes when he recited the poem.

I left my mark everywhere,

grotesque monsters of jagged teeth.

Under their watchful gaze

the stone-made guardians

protect the steps

that lead the way to the end.

Yeosang repeated the poem in his head, remembering what his father had told him about the treasure when he was a kid. He remembered then traveling to another town in Tebos, in a completely different continent. It was the place where Thisa had initiated the revolution in his planet many decades ago. His father had taken him to see the statue that had been raised in their honor.

His father had explained that Thisa had hidden clues in these statues, and that he had figured it out after doing research for many years. It wasn't known by many people, and since the map had been lost a long time ago, no one had cared to decipher what the poem meant anymore. But Yeosang remembered, and now he had the map in front of him.

"That's it," Yeosang grinned. "Honestly, it's very simple."

"What is?" Hongjoong asked, perking up at the change in Yeosang's tone.

Yeosang looked for the square that should belong to the code on his planet and touched it once he found it. The panel that gave him the clue and asked for the password popped up. He carefully typed out what he remembered from his visit to the statue as a child, and then hit enter. Nothing happened for a moment, and then the square cleared up, revealing a part of the map that hadn't been there before.

"Fuck!" Hongjoong yelled, standing up and walking towards Yeosang. "How did you do that?!"

San also walked towards them. He seemed genuinely surprised, a look no one had seen on him since their voyage had begun. Yeosang smiled widely, unable to believe it had actually worked. He didn't think he remembered the code so well, but he was glad he did, because now he had proven that he could be useful to Hongjoong.

"The stone-made guardians refer to the statues that were built in every planet where Thisa lead a revolution before collecting their treasure," Yeosang explained, feeling very excited. "I just happened to remember the code hidden in my planet's statue, so I wanted to try."

"You're brilliant!" Hongjoong grabbed him from the shoulders and shook him around before hugging him and then hugging San, who looked positively startled from the reaction. "Finally we're getting somewhere!"

Yeosang blushed at the praise. It was exactly what he had wanted, but somehow it was really embarrassing to actually hear it come out from Hongjoong's mouth. He tried to brush it off nonchalantly, but Hongjoong continued praising him as he went around the quarters, bubbling with excitement. Yeosang's eyes met with San, who looked as confused as he felt, and Yeosang couldn't help but break out in laughter.

"Our next move is to research and make a list of every planet where Thisa led a revolution." Hongjoong immediately started planning. "We should be able to find pictures of most statues in the interspace, but we might still need to make stops on a few planets to get them ourselves"

"Roger that, Captain." Yeosang nodded, beyond ecstatic that he was being of help.

"Let's do this."

They worked for hours just researching all of the locations where Thisa had led a revolution. There were so many of them that, in the end, Yeosang had to suggest they take a break and eat something, because it seemed like neither Hongjoong nor San were going to call for a break. Eventually, he managed to force them to leave the quarters and get something to eat.

When they went down to the kitchen to eat, Hongjoong asked them to sit with him since they were the only ones there and he didn't want to be alone. They both complied, feeling a little stiff around Hongjoong since he was their Captain, but he quickly got them to relax as he began to talk. San eventually finished eating and excused himself, leaving Hongjoong and Yeosang alone.

"Captain, can I ask you something?" Yeosang began, looking at this plate instead of at Hongjoong's eyes.

"Sure, what is it?" Hongjoong nodded, paying all his attention to Yeosang.

"Well... Why did you decide to give me that chance to talk and earn my freedom?" Yeosang pushed his food around the plate with the fork. He felt bad for asking this to Hongjoong, but he wanted to know if Wooyoung had really been in someone else's dream. He wanted to make sure that he was real. "Most people wouldn't have done that."

"Well, the good thing is I'm not most people," Hongjoong chuckled, trying to make the atmosphere a little less tense. "Will you believe me if I tell you? There's a really weird reasoning behind it."

"I don't think my life can get any weirder, so shoot." Yeosang nodded. This time he did look at Hongjoong, now that he knew he wasn't angry for questioning him.

"Well, my dream told me to give you a chance." Hongjoong shrugged. He still couldn't explain to himself why he had decided to trust a man in his dreams that was more than likely not even real, but he didn't regret it. Yeosang had helped them progress in a day more than they had in weeks.

"Was your dream about this tall," Yeosang hovered his hand next to himself, "curly brown hair and awfully convincing?" Hongjoong's eyes widened comically, and Yeosang couldn't help a smile. "Seems like Wooyoung did go into your dreams to save me, huh."

"Have you met him?" Hongjoong asked with a bit of a hurry, leaning closer to Yeosang.

"Yes, he visits my dreams a lot." Yeosang nodded. "Well, he's been doing it less these days, I guess he's visiting some of the others that are supposed to be part of this mission he's been talking about."

"Mission? What mission?" Hongjoong asked, his thoughts running a mile a minute.

"I don't know for sure yet, he hasn't told me... How much has he told you? I don't want to ruin it for him." Yeosang narrowed his eyes, looking at Hongjoong suspiciously.

"Nothing much," Hongjoong sighed, slumping down on his place in defeat. "He promised he would visit me again and explain, but he hasn't." Hongjoong looked at Yeosang and smirked. "I guess he's been busy."

"Stop looking at me like that," Yeosang huffed, pushing his plate away. He wasn't hungry anymore. He had spent days on the streets not eating much and now he just didn't feel as hungry as he probably should.

"Were things really bad in Tebos?" Hongjoong asked, observing Yeosang's half full dish.

"I wish I could say no, but based on the global news, it wasn't just my town undergoing the economical issues," Yeosang nodded, feeling his stomach twist as he thought of his mother.

He regretted leaving without her. He repeated to himself constantly that maybe he could've brought her with him, attempt to give her a better life. But he also knew that as long as he looked like his father, that woman would never truly heal with Yeosang by her side. He missed her dearly, though, even just a few days into this voyage.

"And what about the royal guards? They didn't intervene when the people were trying to mob you." Hongjoong pressed further, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Because they don't get paid enough," Yeosang chuckled. "They're as underpaid as everyone else, it's just that they have a fancy uniform and weapons, and since they don't get paid enough to bother, they just don't."

"That is fucked up," Hongjoong sighed. He felt nauseous just from thinking about how he had lived back in the palace while the people in Tebos struggled to make end's meet. It sickened him.

"It's how things usually are," Yeosang shrugged. "Oh, hello!" Yeosang perked up as he saw Yunho over Hongjoong's shoulder, walking towards them. "Care to join us for supper?"

Yunho eyed him suspiciously before shaking his head. He still didn't trust Yeosang, but he couldn't deny that the man had fulfilled his promise and helped them make progress with the treasure. Still, that didn't mean he wanted to be friendly with Yeosang, who was trying to approach him nonetheless.

"Good, because I'm actually full and don't want to eat anymore." Yeosang pushed his food even further away and stood up. Hongjoong looked at him, amused, as he chuckled at Yeosang's failed attempt to be friendly with his boyfriend. "I'm going to leave now, would like to get a bit of a walk before our Captain pulls us back to work."

"You can take the rest of the day off," Hongjoong decided. "You're still recovering from the beat up at Tebos, just rest."

"Thank you, Captain," Yeosang smiled. "I'll do just that."

When Yeosang left it became only Yunho and Hongjoong in the little dining area. Yunho sat next to Hongjoong on the table and pressed his head to Hongjoong's shoulder, rubbing it lightly. Hongjoong chukled and patted his head softly, letting him act out before asking what was wrong.

"There's nothing wrong, I'm just recharging." Yunho mumbled, sighing softly. "Spending so much time sailing is way more exhausting than spending it in the battlefield."

"I agree, I guess it's cause the space in the ship is much more limited than a battleground." Hongjoong nodded, still carding his hands through Yunho's hair. "But we should be making a stop somewhere soon, to look for more codes and buy more supplies. You'll get to rest then."

"Alright," Yunho nodded, eyes closed as he continued to press his head to Hongjoong's shoulder.

Hongjoong caressed his hair for a little while before softly pulling on it, asking Yunho to look at him. Yunho groaned, not wanting to move from his resting place even if his neck was starting to feel a little stiff, but eventually he complied and looked up at Hongjoong. With a smile, Honjoong kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose, and then his lips.

"There, recharged." Hongjoong chuckled, pressing Yunho's cheeks with both hands.

Yunho groaned before wrapping his arms around Hongjoong and hugging him tightly, almost knocking all of the air out of him. Hongjoong erupted in laughter as he tried to push Yunho away just enough to move, but Yunho held him tight by the waist and buried his face on the crook of Hongjoong's neck, breathing in deeply. Eventually, Hongjoong settled and stopped trying to push him away, hugging him back instead and rocking him softly. They stayed like that for a moment, just the two of them, in their little world.

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #8makes1teamnet #kpopscape #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fanfiction #atz #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #kpop fanfiction #crescent #bluenicorn writes

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