Everyone talks about Percy being a simp for Annabeth and they’re right but I feel like we need to acknowledge this is 100% a simp4simp relationship
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Angel Dust, hinting that he'd make a good date for a party or something: You know, it's kinda funny, my sister always told me I’d make a better wife than her someday.
Husk, vibrating like a sinner who has already bought a ring, picked a wedding date, planned a honeymoon, and simply waiting for Angel to get his head out his non-existent ass: You don't say?
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Gwen, to Hobie: Hey, did you know that Miles stayed up all of last night reading up on colonialism just so he could talk to you about it?
Miles, ears burning: I have no idea what you’re talking about
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That's the thing about love isn't it? It isn't always supposed to work. This bright, wide eyed Gryffindor and this broken, stiff postured Slytherin. They were never meant to be.
Love was supposed to be easy.
But it wasn't easy.
For Potter, it was a deep ache in his chest as they passed in the hall. It was a hope he had to remind himself to forget every morning when he woke up.
It was searching the map for that name, his name.
This love was forbidden. It was one he knew his friends would disapprove of.
But he couldn't help it.
He loved this boy with all his soul.
This boy who had no choice. This boy who learned to trust in all the wrong people, to feel in all the wrong ways.
He loved those cold, silver eyes, loved the feeling that shot through him when they connected with his own.
He loved that he could list everything about him, and that his eyes were the only hint at an emotion behind his mask of indifference.
He loved that when they bickered there was always a slight tilt to his lips, like they were taunting each other, like the other felt this strange feeling too.
Quidditch was a nightmare. Watching the other's perfect poise, his eyes darting around the stadium for the snitch.
It was a miracle he'd kept his focus at all during the matches against Slytherin.
Potter loved him in a way that consumed him.
He was entirely obsessed and, honestly, couldn't bring himself to care.
It was hopeless, maybe even a little reckless.
But you don't chose who you fall for.
And, since he was being honest, he would chose him again and again every chance he was given.
~~~♤~~~
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Reg, scowling at James over his textbook because he's been staring at him for almost an hour and it's honestly very distracting and he's struggling to not blush: what do you want Potter?
James: a chance
Reg raises an eyebrow but doesn't reply
James: a chance to get to know you properly
Reg: you won't like what you find
James: maybe, or maybe I'll love what i find. Give me a chance. Just one chance, Regulus, please?
Reg: ...just one.
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