#If you've not been following that may confuse you lmao

[oifaaa]

wasn’t dick only a cop briefly for undercover corruption investigation reasons and then he quit anyway because the corruption was so deep there was no digging it out from the inside or did i hallucinate that

Maybe your thinking of a different time dick was a cop the main time or at least the one I think about when people bring up cop dick is during his 90s run in which I'd say he was a cop in bludhaven for the majority of that (if we also count the training) and yeah he definitely said something like he wanted to fix it from the inside but he didn't quiet he was fired which he wasn't happy with bc in his words he loved being a cop

[urhoneycombwitch]

howdy, honey!

part I

older!cowboy!Eddie x honey!reader

foreword: idk what this is. other than the start of a new series I may or may not have time for lmao. just… love the idea of honey!Reader and wanted to show the origins of cowboy!Eddie into their life <3 honey!Reader is a bit of an abrasive spitfire but I heart complicated women and Eddie is the right amount of gruff to put up w/ that bratty ass <3 I’m sorry if any truck stuff is wrong I swear I researched a bit but dear god I am not a car girly plz forgive me

cw: Appalachian no magic AU, cowboy!Eddie, older!Eddie, age gap (Eddie is at least 40, R implied as younger), R is on the run from a Troubled Past ™, R has breasts (non-sexual mention) and a tattoo (no skin tone/color mentioned), smut planned for following chapters, as always +18 mdni!

wc: 5.3k

The last thing you want to hear behind you approaches: a vehicle slowing down, tires crunching to crawl at your walking pace in the gravel ditch of the road. 

Maybe it’s just a concerned citizen. You soothe yourself internally, even as your guard surges up to take stock of the environment, to calculate the quickest route to safety. 

To your left- a rusting red pickup, its unknown driver, the flat expanse of tarmac and heat lines rising blearily for miles on end.

To your right, just a sprint away- the line of a lush, thick forest, unfamiliar birds calling amidst the Appalachian wilderness.

Then, an even worse sound of the truck's window being rolled down. 

“Not interested, pal,” you call out, in a tone you hope is commanding. “My thumb ain’t out. Keep driving.”

“I just-” it’s a man’s voice, because of course it is, who else would stop in the middle of an abandoned road to harass a young thing like you- “It’s about a hundred degrees out. Hotter than a two-buck pistol and you’re hiking in it.”

“Mind your damn business.” You don’t know this guy’s angle, but you don’t really care- if there’s anything you’ve learned from the past two weeks on the road, it’s Don’t trust strange men and keep your wits. 

Heart thumping an unsteady rhythm, you swallow the fear and hike your duffle bag higher onto your aching shoulder, resolute, even as the guy sighs. As if he has the right to sound weary. “Darlin’. I don’t wanna see you die of dehydration, is all. Got some water in the back, ‘least let me offload some onto you.”

The offer is tempting enough to still your steps- your canteen is empty, ran out about an hour after being filled at the last town’s hostel. Constant thirst has been an unfortunate side effect of this journey; so far it seems you've been the only one desperate enough to actually be outside in this unrelenting heat.

The man must take your pause for acceptance because he rolls to a stop just ahead of you, brake lights giving one quick flash before the engine cuts out. Both boots hit pavement at the same time, revealing a tall, lanky figure in dark denim and a cut-off tee. 

As he rounds to the trailer bed, you notice a smattering of tattoos- bats flying up one arm, a lariat and a floral piece on the other, some sort of mythological creature sitting over his heart (only spotted as he bends to unhook his truck bed’s latch, shirt shifting forward to reveal a pale expanse of skin beneath).

He’s a confusing, delightful mix of punk and cowboy- jeans just a touch too tight for working, silver hoops lining the shell of his right ear. You’d probably get a better sense of his age if his hair wasn’t hiding in a bun too shadowy to see properly, nestled under the brim of his black cowboy hat.

Eyes dark as bittersweet chocolate but kind and calm turn towards you, observing silently with crossed arms in the ditch a yard away. He closes the gap, wiping his palm on the black bandanna lining his pocket before stretching an appeasing hand towards you. “Waterin’ time.”

A laugh would signal comfortability, and you prefer to keep your cards as close to your own chest as possible, so you smother the noise, turn it into a disapproving twist of your mouth before taking his proffered hand. 

He’s stronger than he looks, pulling you up to the road with an easy flex of his forearm; his other hand automatically fits to your low back to steady you as your pack shifts with the climb, but he drops all points of contact as soon as you’re stabilized.

There’s a thunk from the nearby truck, the sound of something dull hitting into the metal. On instinct, your hand snaps to the butterfly knife tucked into the front of your bra band, hidden by the extra padding but close enough to whip out at a moment's notice. 

A dog sits eager and obedient in the truck bed, black and leggy and long-snouted- some type of Shepherd, if you had to guess. His long feathered tail hits the wheel with each enthusiastic wag, oversized ears perked forward.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. 

Adrenaline leaves you feeling sticky and strung-out, even more than the heat. Between your breasts, the knife sits waiting, metal cool to the touch and reassuring through the fabric of your tanktop. You hope it just looks like you scare easily, hand over your heart with nerves and jumpiness instead of trained defense mode- cards to chest, and all that. 

Safer for you, to be underestimated. Always harder to see a hit coming from someone unexpected. 

This time, though, you aren’t fixing to hit. The back of your hand, like some gravitational force, draws you to the mouth of the truck bed. 

A slash of pink tongue splits the all-black dog’s mouth when he licks you, thumping tailbeat picking up speed. 

The man who owns both truck and dog leans a hip against the wheel, watching as you smooth your palm over the silky head of his companion. “Name’s Goblin.”

“So, your parents were hippies, I gather?” A joke slips out before you can catch and wrestle it back to be the most unassuming version of yourself.

The man laughs- full and rich, crow’s feet bursting like sunbeams, dimples springing into his cheeks- the action knocks a decade off his face. 

You’re transfixed, unable to look away, Goblin nudging your hand for more pets while you memorize the way this stranger looks, laughing on the side of the road in the middle of goddamn nowhere. 

“The dog is Goblin,” the man says, humor twitching at the corners of his plush lips. He takes off his hat to rest against his chest, chocolate eyes still twinkling. “I’m Eddie.”

In the truck bed next to Goblin, there’s a bulky case laying sideways, a handle on one end for carrying. It’s the last push you need, apparently, as the logic part of your mind speaks with finality: Ted Bundy never played guitar. 

So you give Eddie your name. Your real one. You haven’t used it in weeks, opting for anonymity and the comfort of a pseudonym at the seedy spots you’ve been staying.

As soon as you say it, something loosens in your chest, flutters free into the bright blue sky as Eddie repeats it like something precious- like he’s known you for ages. 

“Well.” As if a matter has been settled, Eddie puts his hat back on (you weren’t quite done memorizing the long pattern of his curls, shot through with grey, pulled taut against his skull to settle in a bun at the nape of his neck). “More’n welcome to take the water and send me packin’, but now that we all know each other’s names, how about a lift to town?”

Eddie scratches Goblin behind the ear, absentminded as he adds, “Could even sit in the back, ‘f you wanted. That way you could just jump on out if you think I’m tryna pull something.”

Your shoulder suddenly aches with the weight of your duffel; you let the straps slide to the crook of your elbow, then set it next to Goblin who seems happy for something new to sniff.

Unfortunately for Eddie, you’re starting to like him, which means the filter for your sarcasm and teasing has completely eroded. “Ri-ight. Like I’m gonna just sit in the back of your truck when you could floor it and fling me over the side like a ragdoll.” 

Those big, doey eyes of Eddie’s roll skyward. “You always this stubborn?”

“Only on days that end in Y.” 

“All right.” There’s something in his tone that makes your spine straighten- not from fear, just… something else that you’re trying hard not to analyze right now. “So sit in the damn front and put a seatbelt on, since you’re so worried ‘bout my driving.”

Eddie shuts the pickup’s gate and mutters all the way to the driver’s side door, some comparison being drawn between you and one of his cows that gets herself stuck in the fenceline, refusing sesnsible help. 

The air in the cab is stale and still, warmth from the cracked leather seats soaking into the back of your shorts and bare thighs as you get in and buckle up. You’re suddenly aware of how desperately you need a shower, being in an enclosed space and next to someone with (presumably) a working sense of smell, but luckily Eddie’s already rolling down the windows.

“Air’s broke,” he says by way of apology, waving in the general direction of the AC vents before reaching to open the sliding rear window.

Something cold and wet presses against your ear- Goblin, saying hello. By the time your giggle is over, the grumble of the engine has kicked on, and the dog has found a headrest in the form of your pack, his tongue lolling into the fabric with rhythmic panting. 

“Radio?” You ask, already reaching to twist at the knob on the dash- a crackle of static, and then, bliss. Johnny Cash croons from the speakers. 

In trying to keep your delight casual, you slip up, telling Eddie as he straightens out the wheel to pick up speed- “God, I haven’t heard music this good in months, not since-”

Fortunately, whatever system in your brain still holding on to good sense chops the sentence in half. To cover, you clear your throat, cross your arms, and keep your eyes fixed forward when you change the subject. “So, you play guitar?”

If Eddie notices your lapse he doesn’t comment on it, picking up conversation with an easy charm. “Nah. That’s just a cover for if Sheriff Hop gets me for speedin’. That case is filled with coke and guns and all sorts’a contraband.”

You fix the side of his head with a glare, and even without seeing it full-on Eddie sputters a chuckle and admits, “Fine. I play guitar, sometimes.”

While Eddie’s eyes stay on on the road ahead, you let your own gaze linger on his face in profile: the slope of his nose, the freckles that scatter across the apple of his cheeks and neck, the tail end of another tattoo winding up his collarbone.

Eddie catches you staring, this time, jolt like an electric shock coursing through your whole body when you lock eyes for a moment, before he flicks back to the road. “Looks like you got some ink, yourself.”

He must be doing his best to remain respectful, because he doesn’t ask what the J stands for, even as your other hand jumps instinctually to cover the breadth of your wrist, hiding the little inked letter from view. “Yeah. I get one every time I kill a man. In remembrance.”

Amusement twitches at the corner of Eddie’s mouth when he asks, “Yeah? Only one so far? Would’a thought you’d be racking up your letters by now. Fierce as you are.”

“Well, we’re in public. I can’t very well take off my shirt to show you all the rest.”

This earns you another laugh, and even with the wind whipping through the cab, it fills every inch of the space. Rattles into you like a thunderstorm, knocks dust off some deep part of you kept dormant ‘til now.

You like that he called you that. Fierce. You’re loath to admit it, but you also like the pet names. Most boys are condescending or double-edged with their diminutives, but when Eddie calls you darlin’ with that Southern drawl, it feels… endearing. 

Equal parts terrifyingly disarming and captivatingly charming. That’s how you’d categorize Eddie, so far, though you’re not sure what to file away about his arms- stretched out at ten and two on the Ford’s big wheel, soft white underbelly of his forearms fading into a natural freckled tan, smattering of dark hair over both. 

For now, you file it under Trouble and focus on the upcoming road sign.

It looks like someone stripped a big tree and cut out a thick middle piece just to drive it at a slant into the ground. The hand-carved words appear to have been painted over many times, discolored and weathered, obscuring some of the letters.

WELC ME TO C LINE

”It’s a nice town, Celine,” Eddie says conversationally as the sign gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. “Small, but good community. Lots of farming folks, like me, some strays and stragglers, like you.”

Johnny Cash gives way to an unfamiliar folksy number; you drink in the ramshackle buildings that make up the heart of the town. It’s reminiscent of old cowboy movies you grew up watching with your brothers- flat roofs, red brick, clapboard. A hitching post outside of a General Store, a group of kids tearing around on bikes in the empty lot of the movie theater. 

All that’s missing is a lone tumbleweed flipping lazily end over end across the road.

Eddie pulls his truck parallel with a stretch of curb outside a long building, another handmade sign that reads Celine Public Library. He leaves the engine running but shifts the gear to park, pointing to the phone booth just beyond your window.

“Phone’s just there, if you got someone to call. Figure’d here’s as good a place as any, if you wanna part ways now.”

Oh, right. Eddie offered you a ride to town, and he made good on it. Now is the part where you get out, collect your duffel, and wave while pretending to make a phone call until his truck has disappeared.

But you don’t. There’s lively guitar plucking over the speakers, twining with the purr of the engine. Eddie’s hands flex and unflex on the wheel, horseshoe tattoo on the first segment of his middle finger rippling with the movement like he’s working up the courage to say something,

You’d better not stick around to hear it. Fighting the thing that’s sticking you to the seat, you reach for the door handle. “Well, thanks, Eddie. ‘Preciate the lift.”

Your fingers are just grazing the handle when Eddie speaks again. “Wait-”

Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Don’t-

His eyes are just as beautiful as before, when he’d laughed- and now they’re on you, longing and hopeful and a little unsure as he speaks, gaining speed as if from nerves- “I’ve got a spare room. Spare shack, technically- it’s not much, but I used to live in there real comfortably ‘til my uncle moved and I got the house. Please come stay, at least for the night. Please?”

With a hand still on the door to your other, safer option, you pause; though the main emotion that washes through you is one of relief and gratitude, you sink your teeth into the little flare of irritation, pulling it up to the surface like one last play. “I don’t want charity.”

”Do I look like the church-goin’ type?” A bright flash of Eddie’s teeth as he grins (he knows he’s got you, goddammit). “And the shack door locks from the inside. Deadbolt. In case you’re worried about… I’m not askin’ anything from you. Just- please.”

Your hand drops from the door, falls limply into your lap as you breathe out. “And you’re not in some… weird, cowpoke-Satanic cult where you’re gonna use me as human sacrifice?”

“What part of deadbolt do you not get,” Eddie retorts, pleased, hand at the gear shift. “And my cult only meets on the full moon, so. You’ve got a few weeks of safety, at least.”

A genuine laugh bubbles up out of you, and the smile that Eddie fixes you with would’ve knocked you sideways had you been standing. 

You’re both relishing in the moment too deeply to notice the bicycles approaching from behind; Goblin gives an excited yip, front paws planted on the lip of the truck, wagging up a storm as the group squeals to a halt, surrounding you and Eddie on all sides. 

One of the kids, a boy with a curly mop of hair who looks on the young end of 15, slams a hand down on Eddie’s open window. “Hey!”

Eddie is the one to nearly jump out of his skin this time, hand flying to the top of his hat and cursing. “Fuck. Christ, Henderson. Whaddya want?”

“Do you require our assistance at the market this weekend?” The kid speaks in a funny, oddly formal tone as Eddie sighs and sets his hat on the seat between the two of you. 

“Unfortunately so.” 

“C’mon, Eddie, don’t be like that.” The boy is practically leaning through the window at this point with eagerness, one foot on the ground to keep his bike from tipping. You smother a giggle at the way Eddie’s jaw ticks. “School’s out, we’re bored as hell, and-”

He stops mid sentence when he spies you in the passenger seat, eyebrows jumping up to the curls covering his forehead. “And who might this be?”

“None of your damn business,” Eddie grits out, but you ignore the all-bark-no-bite tone to stretch across and offer your hand in introduction.

“I’m Dustin,” the boy says, in answer to your own name, and rapid-fire points at the various figures loitering around the truck, naming his friends too quickly for you to store them long-term. “Now, Edward, about our payment…”

There’s a girl with red braids near your window, the only one not on a bike. When you give her a friendly smile, she glowers and plants a sneakered foot on her skateboard, rocking it aimlessly up and down the asphalt. 

In the back, Goblin is basking in the attention of the rest of the group; another boy with a close-cropped Afro rubs the dog’s head lovingly, while a girl with serious brown eyes and shoulder-length curls (Eddie’s relative, maybe?) makes tentative strokes down Goblin’s side. 

There are two other kids- boys, you think- near the back of the trailer, but their backs are to the group, close as two people can be while still on their own bikes. Dustin’s conversation floats back into your comprehension- he’s making a valiant attempt at twisting Eddie’s arm where ‘payment’ is concerned.

Untwistable, Eddie shakes his head. A few strands of hair have come loose from his bun, curling around his jaw with the overdramatic move he makes to throw the gear shift into drive. “All right, enough, ya scoundrel. Round up your crew and go be a pain in someone else’s ass.”

Unperturbed, Dustin straightens, grasping his bike’s handlebars with one hand and wrapping a tight fist around the metal of the truck’s side mirror. 

This seems to be some sort of signal, because the rest of the group latches on like some choreographed play- hands, one from each kid, coming up to grip at any free space left on the truck, shoulders hunching forward as if preparing to be shot forth like a rubber band. 

“Damn kids,” Eddie grumbles, but you can hear the fondness in his voice as he lifts his foot from the brake.

The truck lurches forward, and with it, the extra wheels; Goblin’s revved-up barking joins the excited chatter and whooping of the kids hanging on, a joyous cacophony of sound as you all head further down the empty street together.

Eddie picks up speed; there’s a twinge of fear as you watch the speedometer tick up to 10- and then he honks, once, and in perfect synchronicity all the kids let go. Some of them pedal furiously to keep up the momentum, others- like the girl on the skateboard- take advantage of the added speed to simply coast.

Soon enough, their cheerful waves and laughter recede into the distance along with the rest of the town as Eddie keeps his boot on the gas.

The heat in town was dizzying, so you’re relieved when the road dips and bends into the comfort of shade- courtesy of the wild forest flanking either side. 

It’s about a ten minute drive to Munson Farms, and on the way, Eddie tells you all about it. You learn that his Uncle Wayne raised him, taught him how to work and live off the land- when Wayne retired and moved a few miles down the road, Eddie took over.

“Not really a lucrative venture, farming,” he says, trees passing in a blur as he navigates the road curves with ease. “But the end of summer Town Fair pays well, ‘specially for sheep penning demonstrations. Got a couple of dairy cows, chickens that won’t stop laying- between that ‘n Wayne’s orchards, we got more than enough to get us through the winter months.

And then there’s the hives-”

“Bees?” Unable to help the interruption, your head whips in his direction, interest piqued. 

“Yup. Got about six hives right now in the southern pasture. Don’t know much about ‘em, truthfully- got a friend named Chrissy, comes once a week or so to make sure they stay maintained. I mostly just help come harvesting time, and try to stay out of her way for the rest.”

There are about a thousand other questions you want to ask- what kind of bees? Are they near your garden plot to promote pollination? Any bears in the area?- but you tamp down your excitement, settling on a neutral, “Cool,” before looking out the window again.

The sign for Munson Farms is handmade, too, but upkept much better than the one in town- it swings gently in the breeze on metal links as Eddie turns down the adjoining dirt road. About a quarter mile in, you start to see signs of life- fence lines running through the trees and the shush of a nearby water source- and then, a house.

It’s small, probably no more than a bed, bath, and kitchen inside. There’s a red brick chimney separating the straight lines of the blue-painted wood planks, ivy crawling up one side to frame the eastern-facing window. 

On the covered porch, a big, long-haired white dog lifts its head at the sound of the truck pulling in. Goblin gives a greeting bark, practically tripping over his oversized paws to launch out of the truck even as Eddie gripes at him to “Be careful, dammit!”

As you follow Eddie out of the truck and to the porch, the white dog shambles over on a stiff back leg, ignoring the playful jumping and licking Goblin gives in favor of coming up to sniff you. 

“This is Rosie,” Eddie says, patting her greying muzzle with a gentleness that twists something in your stomach. “She’s near older than me, was a great livestock guardian ‘til her age caught up. Been trying to train up Goblin to take her place but between you ‘n me I think his head might be full of rocks.”

As if he’s aware of the insult, Goblin gives an indignant yip and paws at Eddie’s knee; he gets laughed off by the two of you, zipping away with a deep sense of importance into the nearby forest while Rosie shambles back to her cozy porch spot.

It smells incredible, here, surrounded by so many trees- you take a deep breath, inhaling the rich pines, the verdant underbrush. Just past the house, there’s a fenced-in area with various plants spilling out of raised garden beds. You can almost smell the summer strawberries and crisp veggies. 

On the other side of the fence is a plastic-sheeted greenhouse, LED lights inside making the whole thing glow artificial purple. Eddie catches you staring, then gives a wink, laying one long finger to the side of his nose. “Don’t go tellin’ the Sheriff on me and I’ll give you a joint for your troubles.”

“Deal.” Wasn’t a hard sell at all- at the rate this is going, you’re dying to get high with this man. 

Eddie grabs your pack out of the truck bed and leads you across the dirt road, pointing out the fence lines in the distance, and a barn that you can just make out through a gap in the trees. 

“Sheep, cows, horses, all that way. This way-” his hand rests between your shoulder blades, steering you towards a boot-worn path, “-is the guest shack. Beehives’ll be just down the hill from where you’re stayin’.”

He pauses, looking back over his shoulder at you- “I’ll take you to see ‘em tomorrow. Promise. I just don’t want you goin’ by yourself and getting stung to death, y’hear?”

Not for the first time today, you wish, desperately, to tell him things you shouldn’t. I was actually an apprentice beekeeper for a year, I know my way around a hive. Studied entomology and agriculture in college before I lost myself in the worst mistake of my life. You know that pesky little J I’ve got on my wrist…?

But if you start talking, you won’t stop. And besides, you’re not planning to stay here long enough for your secrets to matter.

So instead, you press your lips into a line, looking solemn, nodding in agreement until he’s satisfied and continues on. 

The dirt path leads right to the shack, and Eddie opens the door to let you in. It’s about the size of a studio apartment- wood stove and sink next to the bathroom door, twin bed draped with a thick quilt budged up under the single window. Small, but homey and clean.

As you take it in, spinning in a slow circle, Eddie sets your duffel next to the bed and runs a hand over the top of his head, haloed frizz of his hair springing back into place. “Ain’t much, I know- usually just host the town rascals; they bring their sleeping bags and fight over who gets the mattress. But the sheets are washed, and-”

“Eddie.” You stop his rambling with a hand to his arm. “Seriously, it’s great. Better than great. I was probably gonna end up sleeping on the streets tonight, and you saved me from that. So… thank you. I mean it.”

The vulnerability in your own voice catches you off guard, but you decide to lean in to it. Eddie’s been nice for no reason- or, rather, because he seems to be a kind person- and you want to make sure he hears how grateful you are for a place to stay.

He’s staring down at your hand on his bare arm, eyes clouded with something you can’t parse out; you draw your hand back, which prompts him to speak- “Shit, darlin’. It’s nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You can stay as long as you like.”

“It’s not nothing,” you insist, arms crossing over your chest, rocking back on your heels. There’s a sudden swell of panic rising like bile in your throat; this morning, you were hell-bent on leaving, and now, you think it’ll kill you not to stay.

“Listen-” Eddie’s eyes snap up at the urgency in your voice, but you manage to push through- “I know I didn’t tell you much, about where I came from, or what I did to end up…”

On my own. The words stick in your throat, tears pricking threateningly at the corners of your vision. “...out here. But I grew up on a farm. I’m used to working livestock, riding horses- I can be helpful. Can earn my keep over the weekend, at least, doing whatever you need-”

Eddie interrupts with a shake of his head, your stomach plummeting until he says, “Got enough farmhands as it is, honey. Don’t need you getting your pretty hands dirty.”

“There has to be something. I can’t cook worth a damn, but I can clean-”

“Hey.” Eddie’s tone of voice slips into a low, soothing register, like you’re a spooked animal caught in a trap. He steps closer, and when you don’t flinch, he settles his big hands on the tops of your shoulders. “Shh. It’s okay. Like I said earlier- I’m not expecting nothin’ from you. Okay?”

There’s gotta be some sort of magical effect happening, an old Celtic carving under the floorboards, maybe a witch's spell braided in with the dried herbs hanging on the far wall. You’ve never felt so looked at before, like you’ve swam beyond your depth and Eddie’s hands are a life raft.

His eyes flit around your face, taking in the expressions you’re surely flickering through before he says, quietly- “If you want, how ‘bout you stay ‘til the end of summer. Help out where you can, and come Fair time, I’ll deal you in on the profits.”

You open your mouth to argue, and smooth as butter, his right hand slips up your shoulder, tattooed fingers wrapping firm around the back of your neck, thumb tapping the pulse point under your jaw, insistent- “This way, you’ll have cash enough in your pocket to go anywhere you want. It’s a good deal and you damn well better take it.”

You wonder if he can feel the jackrabbit pulse of your heartbeat under his thumb. When you nod, he gives a dimpled smile, satisfied. “Good. Now I’ll let you settle in and get washed up for supper. Come on over to the main house when you’re ready.”

Before the door shuts behind him, Eddie adds, “And don’t get too excited. I ain’t much of a cook, neither.”

After his footsteps have retreated down the path, you collapse onto the mattress, springs squeaking. You flip to stare up at the ceiling, running your fingertips over the ghost of his touch branded against your neck, almost nauseous from elation.

A whole summer. On Eddie’s farm. With Eddie. 

After a few minutes of deep breathing, you get up to unpack your duffel, then fold your meager clothes supply neatly into the top drawer of an old oak dresser in the corner, still room enough for your canteen.

The last thing in your bag is a twine-wrapped leather pouch. Your butterfly knife makes quick work of the knots, and then, the last of your most precious things in the world are laid out on the bed. 

A certificate of completion from Indiana U’s Beekeeping Department, folded and creased but still valid, signed by your last field mentor. 

A driver’s license with your old address, square photo of a younger and more hopeful you smiling back.

And lastly, an engagement ring. Gold, with a teardrop-shaped diamond center and sparkling accent stones trailing up either side of the band. 

It twinkles when you hold it up to the evening sunbeam streaming through the window; reflective pinpricks of light scatter and dance across the quilt.

In quick succession, you slide everything back into the pouch, securing it with the drawstring before burying it inside the hidden pocket of your bag.

Then, you shove the duffel under the bed until it hits the wall, and turn away to wash up for dinner.

[weenwrites]

Hello. I was the anon that asked about the matchups and requests but thanks for letting me know!

May I request a headcanon for TFP Soundwave, Ratchet and Optimus who somehow accidentally turn into humans but their human S/O also becomes cybertronian for a day or few? If this hasn't been done before

Their S/O is so confused and has no idea what to do in their cybertronian body and how it works as well as being worried that they'll hurt them when it comes to being around them or having to carry them around. Their S/O is curious on what it's like in being the cons/bots perspective of being a cybertronian with a human S/O but at the same time hesitating to even touch and pick up the cons/bots in fear they'd accidentally hurt them or worse

With Soundwave, it would be kinda interesting if Lazerbeak wasn't affected and didn't turn into some regular raven or something, he could probably attach himself to Soundwave's S/O for the time being LMAO otherwise him as a raven would also be cute cause he'd raven's are cute and cool

Sorry if that didn't make any sense or seem silly. Just a random thought 😭 if not this, I could try requesting smth else that's better otherwise have a good day 🙏🙏

Soundwave

Actually, Soundwave's faring rather well as a human. He knows quite a bit about human lifestyle, so he's certainly better off than you are. Of course they do warn you about your own strength. You're already well aware that cybertronians are super strong in comparison to a human, so he's unsure how well you'll be at controlling your newfound strength. Even if you're really good at controlling how much force you use as a human, it's nothing in comparison to a cybertronian's strength (but still, it might come in handy.)

If Lazerbeak wasn't affected, then he'd stick around to help keep Soundwave safe. Since Laserbeak and Soundwave both trust you enough, Laserbeak would temporarily attach himself to you so long as you're fine with it. To you it may feel odd, but it establishes a connection of sorts between you and Laserbeak. But if Laserbeak was affected, he'd be a bird perched on Soundwave's shoulder.

Of course as a human, they need to eat and whatnot. He has no problems with preparing meals according to any instructions you give, but he's unused to having to complete so many tasks just for something to eat. Of course energon needs to be refined before being consumed, but when it comes to cooking you have to complete so many other steps.

For the most part, he tries to do what work he can, and he sticks by your side to help out if you're having any trouble, or just to keep you company. He'll usually perch on your shoulder if you're big enough, or he'll just follow you around if your shoulders aren't big enough for him to sit on comfortably.

Throughout the entire day they remain as unreadable as usual. Normally it would be impossible to tell that they're even exhausted by the end of the day, but since you know them so well it's easier for you to detect the subtle changes in their posture. But even as he lays down to sleep it's difficult to tell whether he's sleeping or whether he's simply closing his eyes—actually scrap that, it's hard to tell if he's even alive at all. He sleeps like a corpse and it's hard to detect the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

Ratchet

Despite his now miniature stature, he still insists on doing a full routine check-up to ensure your body is in good condition. Although the check-up lasts a good 30 minutes longer than it usually would, he's still able to get the job done despite how limiting being a human is.

He tries to help you the best he can while this predicament lasts, and honestly he's the best out of the 3 at doing this. He can help properly describe how you change your arm back if you've activated any possible built-in weaponry, or how you transform out of your altmode. But when it comes to your strength, there's not much he can do to help with that aside from advising you to grab things carefully.

As a human, he's doing rather well aside from the fact he's upset he can't do anything. Of course saying "anything" may be an exaggeration, but his size debilitates him greatly. Even if you'd suggest that he could take this opportunity to kick back and relax, he's far too stressed to just settle down. No matter how tempting that may sound, he can't just relax in the middle of a war.

If you seem excited to put your altmode to the test, Ratchet would definitely advise against it for 2 reasons. 1: while flying, driving, or diving comes naturally to cybertronians, it may not come as naturally to you, a human who's been turned into a cybertronian. 2: any attempts you make at using your altmode may attract unwanted attention if you were to do it outside the base. You could test it inside the base, but that's only if your altmode isn't anything that can fly.

Optimus

The instant this happens, he has Ratchet look you over to ensure you're in good physical condition. And while he's relieved that you're in top physical condition, he now has a whole lot of other problems to worry about, such as how he'll reverse whatever happened, the well being of the team, etc. etc.

It's not that he doesn't believe in his own team, no, but he has to factor in the notion that he has been severely limited by this sudden happenstance. Of course he can still lead them, but he can't join them out in the field to work or do patrols, which affects the strength of the team.

He's had experience having to adjust to a newfound strength once he inherited the matrix, so he can relate with and understand any predicaments that ensue because you grabbed something too tightly, or you pushed a door too hard. He advises you to learn more about your strength in a non-harmful way.

He doesn't have a difficult time adjusting to being a human, in fact he's faring pretty well despite it all! While he's not as busy with helping the team out on the field, he's still busy doing what work he can, and he'll firmly refuse to take this time to relax. At the end of the day he's exhausted beyond relief and rather hungry, given the fact he didn't spare even a single second to sit down and eat something.

By the time he's decided to stop working, all the kids have gone home, which leaves only you at the base to help. There's no kitchen to make a full-blown meal, at the very least there's most likely a mini fridge full of snacks and drinks. According to what you tell him about the 4 food groups and how everything in the fridge fails to fulfill the needs, it's better than nothing.

The one thing he enjoys the most about this entire ordeal is being able to rest. While the couch may not be the most comfortable bed to you, it's many levels above a circuit slab in terms of comfort. However he feels a pang of guilt when he lays down to rest while the rest of the team is wrapped up in work. A little bit of reassurance from you will help him get a good night's rest, and encourage him to try and fall asleep as soon as possible.

[myheartismadeofstars]

Man the more I think about it, the more I REALLY wish Durge could be a companion. It would be so cool to have a dragonborn companion, and just...see what Durge is canonly like.

Also I really want to see my Tav adopt Durge!

And it would allow you to see all of the Durge story stuff while playing your Tav!!

I really don't know why Durge is a Storm Sorcerer though? It just doesn't suit his character to me... (I don't know how well white dragonborn suits him either. Cold breath? I think there are better options, though I WILL say that he LOOKS cool AF as a white dragonborn!) I would probably have him as a rogue, barbarian or fighter (or even Oath of Vengeance Paladin!) if we didn't already HAVE companions of those classes please ignore the double druids but I could see him as a Monk if relying on unused classes! (Btw my Sorcerer subclass of choice would be Draconic for funny reasons)

Maybe it could be cool if Durge was multitalented before losing his memory and he could ask for advice as to what path to follow, allowing him to fill any role depending on what you needed. But he himself prefers to be up close and personal, approving if he got asked to be a more martial class (he would also approve if asked to be a sorcerer, implying he already knew he had those powers but would just...not use them lmao).

I feel like as a companion his approval would be a bit... weird. He's typically very reserved and cautious, but approves a LOT of you suddenly commit acts of violence (also pushes him towards indulging). But approves a bit if you use guile to avoid violence (pushes him to resist). Disapproves of chaos and often scolds chaotic party members (Astarion, Karlach to a lesser degree) even though he may laugh at their antics. Durge rarely responds to acts of kindness, but responds well to kindness to children (subconsciously reminds him of his foster parents). Mostly he approves of practicality, intelligence and ambition. He'd likely have interesting conversations with Gale about that, get along well with Minthara in general. I feel in my soul that Durge has chronic headaches because of Karlach (not because he doesn't like her, but because she mentions Gortash, and it hurts to think when he can't quite remember). I imagine he has a lot of thoughts that he doesn't act on. (Also I highkey think he'd sleep with Astarion at some point if neither are romanced. Listen... Astarion is dead, guys. He's a corpse that can consent)

If I were to write a companion!Durge story I would show him as canonly killing Quil instead of Alfira simply because it's a unique character and allows you to finish Alfira's quest AND get Durge Action (also I like the idea of her hitting on him). I think there could be some dramatic changes to the scene depending on how high his approval is, and how many times he's been encouraged to indulge (if he has high approval and has been resisting the whole time, he'll outright confess to having killed her, confused and terrified. If you've been encouraging his urges he'll take pleasure in it, it's possible to have a version where he blames Astarion, which Tav could pass a check to point out how nonsensical that is lmao)

[hanrinz]

A PUPPET WHO BEARS NO HEART.

pairing. wanderer x fem! reader ( word count. 0.9k ) genre. past lovers

synopsis. betrayals were so familiar to him, yours were far more special.

content. angst & small fluff, death mentioned, small spoilers for lantern rite & possible spoilers scara's story quests, minimal proofread.

notes. first time writing for genshin, i'm starting with scara!! i kin him lmao

"come on, kuni! the lanterns are fleeting,"

a hand clutched to his, warmly he noted. as you tighten your grip hoping to keep it with yours. confused by your statement about this 'lanterns' you speak of, nevertheless he lets you drag him away from the comfort of your own home.

up to the cliff he's oh so familiar with, the times the both of you have spent there coming to him, as he finally see the lights that float above the sea like the stars of the sky. lanterns from the lands of liyue, a once in a blue moon taking.

your grandmother used to tell you the stories of it, how the anemo archon blows the wind from the city of freedom, through liyue and taking every lights of wishes to other nations, a reminder of those who have passed, it was a message she says, a farewell that has long been said.

"quickly, make a wish kuni!" as you look at him excitedly.

a wish, you say? he doesn't understand humans that well, but the joy in your eyes tells him that it wouldn't hurt to try.

"i wish-"

"don't say it out loud, silly!" you giggle as you poke his cheeks and he looks at you confused once again.

your eyes telling him 'follow me' as you look up at the sky — him copying you, but his eyes still focused on you.

"close your eyes, kuni" speaking so softly, as you followed suit by whispering your wishes into the air. he didn't hear it by any means, but he hoped to catch whatever you had told the wind.

࿐ ·

he has no name anymore, it was long gone; dead and buried with his past.

alas, the memories of a girl who you were once with him stays. the world may have forgotten you and him, but your name stay within him — a secret he had to take from the irminsul tree, the god of wisdom did know, but knowing he had paid the price a new birth gift it was for him.

he will never know what you have whispered to the wind on that day, he had hoped it would be true.

as for him, he had wished for your eternity. falsely, it had never come. as he bore holes to the lights on his hands the traveller has given to him, he couldn't help but still wishes to see you for the last time.

"ah, a wanderer from another nation? say, what does your heart urge you to own?" his clothing in green, a cape that accompanies it — a bard he presumes. how laughable, he doesn't have a heart and yet he yearns for something, like a human.

"tsk, i have no interest in humans stupid traditions, an archon in a bard's clothing how does one dwell in such a foolish occasion?" though, he might have changed, the same venom drips from his lips.

"how cruel! and here i thought i could be of service to the calls of your heart." dramatic, as always. "one that belongs have wished from the past, wouldn't one be curious for the things that last?"

he could've said something, he could've rejected the offer, what was stopping him from doing so? silence fills the air as the bard himself hums a melody.

"i wish to keep kunikuzushi away from any pain."

and there you were like the very first time, in front of him. eyes closed like the memory he had once remembered.

he stayed there, not moving afraid these fragments of your time might break and he'll have to see you go again. isn't your wish ironic? you've been the one to cause the pain, his pain.

aren't you cruel? still beautiful as ever, still the same, it's still you.

he doesn't realize it, his eyes now glittering with tears. the time he has cried again, once when he was abandoned. but, no you didn't abandon him. fate was rather jealous, taking you out of his grasp.

death was inevitable, yours was something he couldn't fathom. you were something so precious and pure, a human who the world doesn't deserve one bit.

as he sees you smile once more, turning to him. he felt like he was himself from years ago, the kunikuzushi who you had showed the wonders of the world.

"i'm sorry, kuni" oh, he remembers this now all too well. it was just a simple thing, so why did it feel like he couldn't breathe and his heart was being stabbed so slow?

he hates how all these years, you still have that effect on him. humans were nothing, fragile and useless. how did such a human like you evoke such feelings from his non-existent heart?

and then, you were gone.

he looked around once more, he was still at the outskirts of liyue, a lantern in hand, the bard was gone. no one in sight, as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

you were very fond of the anemo archon, he remembers. always talking about how one day, you'll visit every nation and come to the land of freedom. asking him one time if he'll join you.

of course, he would if he was still the same kuni you've known. he'll say it out loud and take your hand to everywhere the wind will take you.

but, those were all memories from the past and yet, he keeps it like a treasure.

one more wish and he'll never ask for anything again, not the gnosis, not his name, not even his own mother.

nothing but you.

he whispers to the wind, like a fool. but, what can he lose now? like a desperate prayer, he released the lantern to the sky.

"come back to me."

— ♡ is he a little ooc?? im gonna cry lots. likes & rb's are much appreciated!!

[makoodles]

I love the way you write the reader to be a bit awkward in Tìtunu. Just all the failed attempts to seduce Tsu’tey really resonates with me lmao

How would Ronal and Tonowari feel or react to an awkward reader that keeps trying to put the moves on them, but the cultural barriers cause confusion?

i just love cross-species misunderstandings!

ronal and tonowari would be looking at you like you've grown ten heads.

at least the omaticaya have been exposed to humans through grace and the school she had set up - the metkayina have no experience with humans, and so they're going to be absolutely bewildered by any human attempts at flirting.

no matter how much you flick your hair hair, or glance up at them from beneath your eyelashes, or laugh at whatever they have to say (whether it's funny or not). they think your makeup is kind of bizarre -- it's more subtle than the paint the People use for celebrations or battles, and they can't understand the point of it.

even when you step up your flirting, they don't pick up on it at all. that might read as disinterest, so it definitely might be difficult to keep motivated !

compliments are usually a safe bet, though it all depends on your wording!

"you probably hear this all the time, but you guys could be models, you know. like, wow." your cheeks will be burning from finally telling them you find them attractive, but they'll just stare at you blank-faced

what the fuck is a model? they have no idea what you're talking about

maybe your next step is playfully compare hand sizes.

"oh, your hands are so much bigger than mine!" you'll say, growing bold enough to intertwine your fingers. both tonowari and ronal will nod in agreement. their tails will be swishing (they like the size difference) but it seems like you're just pointing out the obvious, so they don't bother saying much.

maybe you'll try to follow a na'vi mating ritual next by making some jewelry for them. that's a step that they'll recognise, right?

except when you present the misshapen little beaded bracelets to them, you're met with some bemused headtilts.

"ah," tonowari will say, smiling, "is this from tuk?"

the bracelets are not well-made, and they do indeed look as though they could have been made by a 7 year old's hands. you're embarrassed enough by their assumption that you just agree and leave as quickly as possible

eventually, you'll have to either come straight out and say it to their faces or hope and pray that they'll make a move first. ronal is impatient enough that you may not be waiting that long, anyway!

[penumbramewtwos]

Thank you to all of 169 followers/mutuals!

This has all hit me like an emotional tonne-of-bricks lately, mostly happiness and humble gratitude, as well as some mild confusion; me being someone who's socially awkward. You're all very special to me, as all I wanted to do was share my art progression, no matter how long it took, or how many trial-and-error attempts I took to achieve anything creative. I never would have thought I'd make friends with anyone along the way, that's something I thought was impossible after about 10 years of being off the internet and in my relatively restrictive home-life. Thank you, again, I don't feel as isolated anymore. I'm mostly going to be mention-thanking accounts that have followed me, but there will be some special mentions of accounts that don't follow, but have still been very important people along this journey! [Apologies, when I started this artwork there were 163 of you ^^;]

@ricksoo @mimiblue64 @martysgachaworld @eveeonaartz @mel-the-pirate @xhunterbeatsx Thank you all for mentioning me in the recent Love-Train! To read about how you all view me in positive attributes melts my heart to-no-end. To read the from some of you who commented about how you adore my artworks and even an artstyle of all things; makes me confused with bubbling-happiness! I never thought I had an artstyle, I just try my hardest to draw as best I can. Thank you all for your support and guidance through this journey. Some Ultra-special mentions to my longest known followers/mutuals (and more recent-ish, too): xhunterbeatsx, martysgachaworld, @paradoxiusblack @secret-mewtwo @oogaboogaspookyman @wren-idkfeather ricksoo @blues-sues @kantaroth @altaria-andthe-two @amateurcomics @drazegerzo @noodleartz @droberrymewtwo629 @spammykins @waffledragon10 @psychic-nature I wish I could talk about each of your beautiful attributes down to an individual level, but just know, you are the people/blogs/artists who have made me over the last few months. Your artworks/encouragement have inspired me to keep trying. mel-the-pirate @cinnatwo @a-shy-mimiktwo @ask-water-mewtwo eveeonaartz @greatgoldlion [distortionmewtwo] @umberarin [velvet-and-aspen] @minish-mews-and-twos mimiblue64 @askthemewtwofamily @justice-the-pandisaster @spikyegg @ask-the-royal-absol @medrawsart and dozens more of you. Ty also your active and/or passive encouragement, even if it's just a follow, comment, reblog, or like; it all means so very much to me! Lastly, thanks to xhunterbeatsx (third time, lmao) justiceandthepandisaster (second time), @xxtc-96xx, and @comedydoctor18: For your helpful artistic tips, friendliness, support and encouragement. I look up to all of you (and so many others) as artists and as role models. I may not come online often, or be the quick artist I want to be; but everyone's positivity and support through all of this means so much more than anyone could think possible. I more-or-less consider you my friends, who are all close to my heart. So, here's to all of you: The first friends/acquaintances I've made in over a decade! You've all made this mid-late 20's, intersex-dummy feel so welcome and free.

Apologies for the mass tagging and long winded thank you, I don't know how to thank people like a normal person, my ADHD doesn't allow it (I either don't do enough, or I do too much, like this time around :'>).

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 12

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Here's a really, really long chapter, about 12K words! It wasn't planned either lmao, but I hope yall enjoy!

Love ya!

Leo keeps looking back. He half expects to see those nasty sun dragons toting a flying chariot with a screaming, magical sales woman throwing potions but nothing follows them.

Leo steers the dragon towards the southwest. Eventually, the smoke from the burning department store fades into the distance, but Leo doesn't relax until the suburbs of Chicago give way to snowy fields, and the sun begins to set.

"Good job, Festus," he pats the dragon's metal hide. "You did awesome."

The dragon shutters; gears popping and clicking in his neck.

Leo frowns, not liking the noises coming from the dragon. If the control disk is fading again – No, hopefully it's something minor. Something I can fix.

"I'll give you a tune-up next time we land," Leo promises. "You've earned some motor oil and Tabasco sauce."

Festus whirls his teeth, but even that sounds weak. He flies at a steady pace, his great wings angling to catch the wind, but he is carrying a heavy load. Two cages in his claws plus four people on his back — the more Leo thinks about it, the more worried he gets. Even metal dragons have limits.

"Leo." Piper pats his shoulder. "You feeling okay?"

"Yeah . . . not bad for a brainwashed zombie." He hopes he didn't look as embarrassed as he feels. "Thanks for saving us back there, beauty queen. If you hadn't talked me out of that spell —"

"Don't worry about it," Piper replies.

But Leo worries a lot. He feels terrible about how easily Medea had set him against his best friends.

What bothers him more is the news about his mom. Medea had seen the future down in the Underworld. That is how her patron, the woman in the black earthen robes, had come to the machine shop seven years ago to scare him, ruin his life. That's how his mother had died — because of something Leo might do someday. So in a weird way, even if his fire powers aren't to blame, Mom's death is still his fault.

When they'd left Medea in the exploding store, Leo had felt a little too good. He hopes she didn't make it out, and would go right back to the Fields of Punishment, where she belongs. Those feelings he isn't proud of either.

And if souls are coming back from the Underworld . . . is it possible Mom can be brought back?

He tries to put that aside. Medea may have been brought back to life, but she hadn't seemed quite human, with the hissing nails and the glowing head, and whatnot.

No, mom's passed on. Thinking like that is just gonna drive me nuts. Still, the thought keeps poking at Leo liken an echo of Medea's voice.

"We're going to have to put down soon," Leo warns his friends. "Couple more hours, maybe, to make sure Medea's not following us. I don't think Festus can fly much longer than that."

"Yeah," Piper agrees. "Coach Hedge probably wants to get out of his canary cage, too. Question is — where are we going?"

"The Bay Area," Leo guesses. His memories of the department store are fuzzy, but he seems to remember hearing that. "Didn't Medea say something about Oakland?"

Piper doesn't respond for so long, Leo wonders if he'd said something wrong.

"Piper's dad," Jason puts in. "Something's happened to your dad, right? He got lured into some kind of trap."

Piper lets out a shaky breath. "Look, Medea said you would both in the Bay Area. And besides . . . even if we went there, the Bay Area is huge! First we need to find Aeolus and drop off the storm spirits. Boreas said Aeolus was the only one who could tell us exactly where to go."

Leo grunts. "So how do we find Aeolus?"

Jason leans forward. "You mean you don't see it?" He points ahead of them, but Leo doesn't see anything except clouds and the lights of a few towns glowing in the dusk.

"What?" Leo asks.

"That . . . whatever it is," Jason said. "In the air."

Leo glances back. Piper looks just as confused as he is.

"Right," Leo says. "Could you be more specific on the 'whatever-it-is' part?"

"Like a vapor trail," Jason replies. "Except it's glowing. Really faint, but it's definitely there. We've been following it since Chicago, so I figured you saw it."

Leo shakes his head. "Maybe Festus can sense it. You think Aeolus made it?"

"Well, it's a magic trail in the wind," Jason says. "Aeolus is the wind god. I think he knows we've got prisoners for him. He's telling us where to fly."

"Or it's another trap," Piper replies.

Her tone worries (Y/n). She doesn't just sound nervous. She sounds broken with despair, like they'd already sealed their fate, and like it's her fault.

"Pipes, you all right?" he questions.

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, fine. You don't like any of the names I make up for you. But if your dad's in trouble and we can help —"

"You can't," she says, her voice getting shakier. "Look, I'm tired. If you don't mind . . ." She leans back against (Y/n) and closes her eyes.

All right, Leo thinks, pretty clear signal she didn't want to talk.

They fly in silence for a while. Festus seems to know where he is going. He keeps his course, gently curving toward the southwest and hopefully Aeolus's fortress. Another wind god to visit, a whole new flavor of crazy — Oh, boy, Leo can't wait.

He has way too much on his mind to sleep, but now that he is out of danger, his body has different ideas. His energy level is crashing. The monotonous beat of the dragon's wings make his eyes feel heavy. His head starts to nod.

"Catch a few Z's," Jason replies. "It's cool. Hand me the reins."

"Nah, I'm okay —"

"Leo," Jason replies, "you're not a machine. Besides, I'm the only one who can see the vapor trail. I'll make sure we stay on course."

Leo's eyes starts to close on their own. "All right. Maybe just . . ."

He doesn't finish the sentence before slumping forward against the dragon's warm neck.

. . .

Leo snaps awake to Jason, Piper, and (Y/n) screaming.

They spiral through the dark in a free fall, still on the dragon's back, but Festus's hide is cold. His ruby eyes are dim.

"Jason!" (Y/n) screams. "Take Piper and fly out of here!"

"What? What about you and Leo?"

"We need to lighten the load!" Leo yells. "I might be able to reboot Festus, but he's carrying too much weight!"

"What about you guys?" Piper cries. "If you can't reboot him —"

"We'll be fine," Leo replies. "Just follow me to the ground. Go!"

Jason grabs Piper around the waist. They both unbuckle their harnesses, and in a flash they are gone — shooting into the air.

"Now," Leo said. "Just you and me, Festus — and two heavy cages and (Y/n). You can do it, boy!"

Leo talks to the dragon while he works, falling at terminal velocity. He could see the city lights below him, getting closer and closer. He summons fire in his hand so he can see what he is doing, but the wind keeps extinguishing it. (Y/n) uncaps her pen, grabbing the blade with her hand, cutting into the flesh of her hand, but it keeps a steady light so Leo can see. He glances back, nodding gratefully at the light.

He pulls a wire that he thought connected the dragon's nerve center to its head, hoping for a little wake-up jolt.

Festus groans — metal creaking inside his neck. His eyes flicker weakly to life, and he spreads his wings. Their fall turns into a steep glide.

"Good!" Leo says. "Come on, big boy. Come on!"

They are still flying in way too hot, and the ground is too close. Leo needed a place to land — fast.

(Y/n) taps the tip of her pen, and the blade shrinks back down, and she grips the pen in her bleeding hand.

On the riverbanks, Leo spots a white mansion with a huge snowy lawn inside a tall brick perimeter fence – like some rich person's private compound, all of it blazing with light. A perfect landing field. He does his best to steer the dragon towards it and Festus seems to come back to life. We're gonna make this!

Then everything goes wrong. As they approach the lawn, spotlights along the fence fix on them, blinding Leo. He hears bursts like tracer fire, the sound of metal being cut to shreds – and BOOM!

. . .

When (Y/n) comes to her senses, Piper is leaning over her. (Y/n) is lying in snow, covered in mud, grease, and blood.

"Where –" (Y/n) rasps.

"Lie still," Piper's eyes flood with tears. "You guys rolled pretty hard when – when Festus –"

"Where is he?" Leo sits up, his head feeling like it is floating.

"Seriously, Leo," Jason says. "You could be hurt. You shouldn't –"

(Y/n) rolls onto her stomach, pushing herself up, and then her leg sags underneath her weight, and she collapses on her face in the mud.

"Hey, hey," Piper's tone is gentle. "I've got you. Jason, come help."

Two sets of hands pull (Y/n) to her feet, and her leg collapses under her, but Jason and Piper keep her supported.

"Go help Leo," (Y/n) glances at Jason. "Go."

Piper's arm wraps around (Y/n)'s waist, and then (Y/n) sees the wreckage.

Festus must have dropped the big canary cages, as he'd come over the fence, because they'd rolled in different directions and landed on their sides, perfectly undamaged.

The dragon had disintegrated. His limbs are scattered across the lawn. His tail hung on the fence. The main section of his body had plowed a trench twenty feet wide and fifty feet long across the mansion's yard before breaking apart. What remains of his hide is a charred, smoking pile of scraps. Only his neck and head are somewhat intact, resting across a row of frozen rosebushes like a pillow.

"No," Leo sobs. He runs to the dragon's head and stroked its snout. The dragon's eyes flicker weakly. Oil leaks out of his ear. "You can't go," Leo pleaded.

And (Y/n) gets sucked into a memory.

The Hephaestus cabin is out of Greek fire. The Apollo cabin and the Hunters are scrounging for arrows. Most of the demigods had already ingested so much ambrosia and nectar that they didn't dare take anymore.

Sixteen campers, fifteen Hunters, and half a dozen satyrs are left in fighting shape. The rest had taken refuge on Olympus. The Party Ponies try to form ranks, but they stagger and giggle and they all smell of root beer. The Texans are head-butting the Coloradoans; the Missouri branch is arguing with Illinois. The chances are pretty good the whole army would end up fighting each other, rather than the enemy.

Chiron trots up with Rachel on his back.

"Your girlfriend here has some useful insights, (Y/n)," he says.

Rachel blushes. "Just some things I saw in my head."

"A drakon," Chiron says. "A Lydian drakon, to be exact. The oldest and most dangerous kind."

(Y/n) stares at her. "How did you know that?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel admits. "But this drakon has a particular fate. It will be killed by a child of Ares."

Annabeth crosses her arms. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I just saw it. I can't explain."

"Well, let's hope you're wrong," Percy replies. "Because we're a little short on children of Ares . . ." A horrible thought occurs to Percy, and he curses in Ancient Greek.

"What?" Annabeth asks.

"The spy," Percy tells her. "Kronos said, 'We know they cannot beat this drakon.' The spy has been keeping him updated. Kronos knows the Ares cabin isn't with us. He intentionally picked a monster we can't kill."

Thalia scowls. "If I ever catch your spy, he's going to be very sorry. Maybe we could send another messenger to camp —"

"I've already done it," Chiron replies. "Blackjack is on his way. But if Silena wasn't able to convince Clarisse, I doubt Blackjack will be able —"

A roar shakes the ground. It sounds very close.

"Rachel," (Y/n) says, "get inside the building. Please."

"I want to stay."

A shadow blots out the sun. Across the street, the drakon slithers down the side of a skyscraper. It roars, and a thousand windows shattered.

"On second thought," Rachel says in a small voice, "I'll be inside." Then she meets (Y/n)'s gaze. "Please be careful."

. . .

Clarisse's chariots circle the drakon. Lances break against the monster's skin. Skeletal horses breathe fire and whine. Two more chariots overturn, but the warriors simply leap to their feet, draw their swords, and go to work. They hack at chinks in the creature's scales. They dodge poison spray like they'd been training for this all their lives, which of course they had.

No one can say that the Ares campers aren't brave – Clarisse is right up front, stabbing her spear at the drakon's face, trying to put out its other eyes. But as (Y/n) watches, things start to go wrong. The drakon snaps up an Ares camper in a gulp, knocks aside another, and sprays poison on a third, who retreats in a panic, his armor melting.

"We have to help," Annabeth says.

She is right. (Y/n) and Percy had just been standing there frozen in amazement. Mrs. O'Leary tries to get up but yelps again. One of her paws is bleeding.

"Stay back, girl," (Y/n) tells her. "You've done enough already."

Annabeth, (Y/n), and Percy jump onto the monster's back and run toward its head, trying to draw its attention away from Clarisse.

Her cabinmates throw javelins, most of which break, but some lodge in the monster's teeth. It snaps its jaws together until its mouth is a mess of green blood, yellow foamy poison, and splintered weapons.

"You can do it!" (Y/n) encourages Clarisse. "A child of Ares is destined to kill it!"

Through her war helmet, (Y/n) can only see her eyes — but she can tell something was wrong. Her blue eyes shine with fear. Clarisse never looked like that. And she didn't have blue eyes.

"ARES!" she shouts in that strangely shrill voice. She levels her spear and charges the drakon.

"No," (Y/n) mutters. "WAIT!"

But the monster looks down at her – almost in contempt – and spits poison directly in her face.

She screamed and fell.

"Clarisse!" Annabeth jumps off the monster's back and runs to help, while the other Ares campers try to defend their fallen counselor. (Y/n) drives Tsunami between two of the creature's scales and manages to turn its attention on her.

(Y/n) gets thrown but she lands on her feet. "C'MON, you stupid worm! Look at me!"

For the next several minutes, all she sees are teeth. (Y/n) retreats and dodges poison, but she can't hurt the thing.

At the edge of her vision, (Y/n) sees a flying chariot land on Fifth Avenue.

Then someone runs toward them. A girl's voice, shaken with grief, cries, "NO! Curse you, WHY?"

(Y/n) dares to glance over, but what she sees makes no sense. Clarisse is lying on the ground where she'd fallen, her armor smoking with poison. Annabeth and the Ares campers are trying to unfasten her helmet. And kneeling next to them, her face blotchy with tears, is a girl in camp clothes. It's . . . Clarisse.

(Y/n)'s head spins. Why hadn't I noticed before. The girl in Clarise's armor is much thinner, not as tall. But why would someone pretend to be Clarisse?

(Y/n) is so stunned, the drakon almost snaps her in half. She dodges and the beast buries its head in a brick wall.

"WHY?" the real Clarisse demands, holding the other girl in her arms while the campers struggle to remove teh poison-corroded helmet.

Chris Rodriguez runs over from the flying chariot. He and Clarisse must've ridden it from camp, chasing the Ares campers, who'd mistakenly been following the other girl, thinking she was Clarisse. But it still makes no sense.

The drakon tugs its head from the brick wall and screams in rage.

"Look out!" Chris warns.

Instead of turning towards her, the drakon whirls toward the sound of Chris's voice. It bares its fangs at the group of demigods.

The real Clarisse looks up at the drakon, her face filled with absolute hate.

Percy had seen a look that intense only once before. Her father, Ares, had worn the same expression when Percy'd fought him in single combat.

"YOU WANT DEATH?" Clarisse screams at the drakon. "WELL, COME ON!"

She grabs her spear from the fallen girl. With no armor or shield, she charges the drakon.

(Y/n) tries to close the distance to help, but Clarisse is faster. She leaps aside as the monster struck, pulverizing the ground in front of her. Then she jumps onto the creature's head. As it rears up, she drives her electric spear into its good eye with so much force it shatters the shaft, releasing all of the magic weapon's power.

Electricity arcs across the creature's head, causing its whole body to shudder. Clarisse jumps free, rolling safely to the sidewalk as smoke boils from the drakon's mouth. The drakon's flesh dissolves, and it collapses into a hollow, scaly, tunnel of armor.

The rest of the demigods stare at Clarisse in awe. (Y/n) had never seen anyone take down such a huge monster single-handedly. But Clarisse doesn't seem to care. She runs back to the wounded girl who'd stolen her armor.

Finally, Annabeth manages to remove the girl's helmet. They all gather around: the Ares campers, Chris, Clarisse, Annabeth, Percy, and (Y/n). The battle rages along Fifth Avenue, but for that moment nothing exists but the small circle around the wounded girl.

Her features, once beautiful, are badly burned from poison. (Y/n) can tell that no amount of nectar or ambrosia would save her.

Something is about to happen. Rachel's words ring in (Y/n)'s ears. A trick that ends in death. Now I knew what she meant, and I knew who had led the Ares cabin into battle.

(Y/n) looks down at the dying face of Silena Beauregard.

"You're the best thing I ever fixed." Leo wails.

The dragon's head whirs its gears, as if he's purring. Jason, Piper, and (Y/n) stand next to Leo, but Leo keeps his eyes fixed on his dragon.

He remembers what Hephaestus had said: That isn't your fault, Leo. Nothing lasts forever, not even the best machines. His dad had been trying to warn him.

"It's not fair," he says. His dad had been trying to warn him. "It's not fair," he repeats.

The dragon clicks. Long creak. Two short clicks. Creak. Creak. Almost like a pattern . . . triggering an old memory in Leo's mind. Leo realizes Festus is trying to say something. He's using Morse code — just like Leo's mom had taught him years ago. Leo listens more intently, translating the clicks into letters: a simple message repeating over and over.

"Yeah," Leo said. "I understand. I will. I promise."

The dragon's eyes go dark. Festus is gone.

Leo cries. He isn't even embarrassed. His friends stand on either side, patting his shoulders, saying comforting things; but the buzzing in Leo's ears drowns out their words.

Finally Jason says, "I'm so sorry, man. What did you promise Festus?"

Leo sniffs. He opens the dragon's head panel, just to be sure, but the control disk is cracked and burned beyond repair.

"Something my dad told me," Leo replies. "Everything can be reused."

"Your dad talked to you?" Jason asks. "When was this?"

Leo doesn't answer. He works at the dragon's neck hinges until the head is detached. It weighs about a hundred pounds, but Leo manages to hold it in his arms. He looks up at the starry sky and says, "Take him back to the bunker, Dad. Please, until I can reuse him. I've never asked you for anything." The wind picks up, and the dragon's head floats out of Leo's arms like it weighs nothing. It flies into the sky and disappears.

Piper looks at him in amazement. "He answered you?"

"I had a dream," Leo manages. "Tell you later." He knows he owes his friends a better explanation, but Leo can barely speak. He feels like a broken machine himself – like someone had removed one little part of him, and now he'd never be complete. He might move, he might talk, he might keep going and do his job, but he'd always be off balance, never calibrated exactly right.

Still, he can't afford to break down completely. Otherwise, Festus had died for nothing. He has to finish this quest – for his friends, for his mom, for his dragon.

He looks around. The large white mansion glows in the center of the grounds. Tall brick walls with lights and security cameras surround the perimeter, but now Leo can see — or rather sense — just how well those walls are defended.

"Where are we?" he asks. "I mean, what city?"

"Omaha, Nebraska," Piper replies. "I saw a billboard as we flew in. But I don't know what this mansion is. We came in right behind you, but as you guys were landing, Leo, I swear it looked like — I don't know —"

"Lasers," Leo replies. He picks up a piece of dragon wreckage and throws it toward the top of the fence. Immediately a turret pops up from the brick wall and a beam of pure heat incinerated the bronze plating to ashes.

Jason whistles. "Some defense system. How are we even alive?"

"Festus," Leo says miserably. "He took the fire. The lasers sliced him to bits as he came in so they didn't focus on you. I led him into a death trap."

"You couldn't have known," Piper says. "He saved our lives again."

"But what now?" Jason asks. "The main gates are locked, and I'm guessing I can't fly us out of here without getting shot down."

Leo looks up the walkway at the big white mansion. "Since we can't go out, we'll have to go in."

. . .

The other three demigods would've died five times on the way to the front door if not for Leo.

First it's the motion-activated trapdoor on the sidewalk, then the lasers on the steps, then the nerve gas dispenser on the porch railing, the pressure-sensitive poison spikes in the welcome mat, and of course the exploding doorbell.

Leo deactivates all of them – almost like he could smell the traps, and he picks just the right tool out of his belt to disable them.

"You're amazing, man," Jason says.

Leo scowls as he examines the front door lock. ''Yeah, amazing," he said. "Can't fix a dragon right, but I'm amazing."

"Hey, that wasn't your —"

"Front door's already unlocked," Leo interrupts.

Piper stares at the door in disbelief. "It is? All those traps, and the door's unlocked?"

Leo turns the knob. The door swings open easily. He steps inside without hesitation.

Before Jason can follow, Piper catches his arm with her free hand. "He's going to need some time to get over Festus. Don't take it personally."

"Yeah," Jason replies. "Yeah, okay."

But still he feels terrible.

"Piper," he begins, "I know I was in a daze back in Chicago, but that stuff about your dad — if he's in trouble, I want to help. I don't care if it's a trap or not."

Her eyes are always different colors, but now they look shattered, as if she'd seen something she just couldn't cope with. "Jason, you don't know what you're saying. Please — don't make me feel worse. Come on. We should stick together."

She helps (Y/n) inside.

"Together," Jason says to himself. "Yeah, we're doing great with that."

. . .

Jason's first impression of the house: Dark.

From the echo of his footsteps, he can tell the entry hall is enormous, even bigger than Boreas's penthouse; but the only illumination comes from the yard lights outside. A faint glow peaks through the breaks in the thick velvet curtains. The windows rise about ten feet tall, spaced between the walls are life-size metal statues. As Jason's eyes adjust, he sees sofas arranged in a U in the middle of the room, with a central coffee table and one large chair at the far end. A massive chandelier glints overhead. Along the back wall stands a row of closed doors.

"Where's the light switch?" His voice echoes alarmingly through the room.

"Don't see one," Leo replies.

"Fire?" Piper suggests.

Leo holds out his hand, but nothing happens. "It's not working."

"Your fire is out? Why?" Piper asks.

"Well, if I knew that —"

"Okay, okay," she says. "What do we do — explore?"

Leo shakes his head. "After all those traps outside? Bad idea."

Jason's skin tingles. He hates being a demigod. Looking around, he doesn't see a comfortable room to hang out in. He imagines vicious storm spirits lurking in the curtains, dragons under the carpet, a chandelier made of lethal ice shards, ready to impale them.

"Leo's right," Jason says. "We're not separating again — not like in Detroit."

"Oh, thank you for reminding me of the Cyclopes." Piper's voice quavers. "I needed that."

"It's a few hours until dawn," Jason guesses. "Too cold to wait outside. Let's bring the cages in and make camp in this room. Wait for daylight; then we can decide what to do."

Nobody offers a better idea, so Piper helps (Y/n) settle on the floor, and they roll the cages with Coach Hedge and the storm spirits.

(Y/n) rummages through her backpack to find a baggie of pastries like lemon barns. She breaks one in half, and nibbles off the corner.

Piper settles down next to (Y/n) against the wall.

"What does it taste like for you?" Piper asks.

"My mom's homemade blue chocolate chip cookies," (Y/n) replies, taking another bite of the pastry square.

"Blue?" Piper asks, taking a bite of a peanut butter Ritz cracker.

(Y/n) smiles slightly. "I'm pretty sure it was some sort of dig at my ex-stepfather." Piper tilts her head in curiosity. "He, was not a very nice dude. He was –" she pauses.

"Abusive?" Piper asks gently.

(Y/n) glances back over at Piper. "How'd –"

"I was trying to break you from Medea's spell," Piper glances down into her lap, not wanting to meet (Y/n)'s gaze. "I raised my hand, and you flinched, like you'd been hit before."

(Y/n) sighs, taking another bite from the ambrosia, feeling the godly food starting to repair her leg. Then she nods. "My mom was only ever with him to protect me," she says.

"How?"

"I'm pretty sure it was the smell," (Y/n) fiddles with Tsunami, who'd appeared back in her pocket. "Perc and I didn't call him Smelly Gabe for nothing. Mom explained it was because he was incredibly mortal, that he could, like, mask our smell." Piper just sits and listens, and (Y/n) doesn't know if anyone had ever listened to her like Piper was listening to her now – just letting her talk without interrupting. "What're you doing?" she asks, bewildered.

"I'm listening," Piper replies. "Go on," she smiles slightly.

That's nice, (Y/n) thinks, grinning at Piper. "Apparently, we demigods smell. Like really bad." Piper laughs. "Especially us Big Three kids, it's worse. My friend Grover says we smell like –" she falters.

"The sea," Piper finishes, and (Y/n) nods. And then she yawns, leaning her head against the wall. "You must be tired," Piper says. "Did you even sleep in the sewer last night?" (Y/n) glances over at Piper, and smiles sheepishly. "Sleep, oh my gods," Piper says with exasperation, though she looks amused. "Come on, now," she pats her lap, and (Y/n) lies down, resting her head in Piper's lap.

The top boulder is twenty feet tall, and really hard to climb, so the flag is clearly visible, like the rules said it had to be, and it didn't matter that the guards weren't allowed to stand within ten yards of it.

Percy sets Nico on guard duty with Beckendorf and the Stoll brothers, figuring he'd be safely out of the way.

"We'll send out a decoy to the left," Thalia tells the team. "Selina, you lead that."

"Got it!"

"Take Laurel and Jason. They're good runners. Make a wide arc around the Hunters, attract as many as you can. I'll take the main raiding party around to the right and catch them by surprise." She glances at (Y/n), who had been leaning on her shield, looking bored. Catching Thalia's look however, she nods.

"I got you," (Y/n) nods.

Thalia looks at Percy. "Anything to add, Percy?"

"Urn, yeah. Keep sharp on defense. We've got four guards, two scouts. That's not much for a big forest. I'll be roving. Yell if you need help."

"And don't leave your post!" Thalia says.

"Unless you see a golden opportunity," Percy adds.

Thalia scowls. "Just don't leave your post."

"Right, unless —" Percy says, and (Y/n) laughs.

"Percy!" Thalia touches his arm and shocks Percy. "Sorry," Thalia says, though she doesn't sound particularly sorry. "Now, is everybody clear?"

Everybody nods. We break into our smaller groups. The horn sounds, and the game begins.

. . .

Percy is two feet from the water when Zoe bolts across to her own side, slamming into him for good measure. The Hunters cheer as both sides converge on the creek. Chiron appears out of the woods, looking grim. He has the Stoll brothers on his back, and it looks as if both of them had taken some nasty whacks to the head. Connor Stoll has two arrows sticking out of his helmet like antennae.

"The Hunters win!" Chiron announces without pleasure. Then he mutters, "For the fifty-sixth time in a row."

"Perseus Jackson!" Thalia yells, storming toward me. She smells like rotten eggs, and she is so mad that blue sparks flicker on her armor. Everybody cringes and backs up because of Aegis. It takes all his  willpower not to cower. "What in the name of the gods were you THINKING?" she bellows.

Percy balls his fists. "I got the flag, Thalia!" He shakes it in her face. "I saw a chance and I took it!"

"WE WERE AT THEIR BASE!" Thalia yells. "But the flag was gone. If you hadn't butted in, we would've won."

"You had too many on you!"

"So it's my fault we lost!"

"I didn't say that."

"Argh!" Thalia shoves Percy, and a shock goes through his body that blows him backward ten feet into the water. Some of the campers gasp. A couple of the Hunters stifle laughs.

"Sorry!" Thalia says, turning pale. "I didn't mean to—"

Anger roars in my ears. A wave erupts from the creek, blasting into Thalia's face and dousing her from head to toe.

Percy stands up. "Yeah. I didn't mean to, either."

Thalia is breathing heavily.

"Enough!" Chiron orders.

But Thalia holds out her spear. "You want some, Seaweed Brain?"

"Bring it on, Pinecone Face!"

Percy raises Riptide, but before he can even defend himself, Thalia yells, and a blast of lightning comes down from the sky, hits her spear like a lightning rod, and slams into his chest.

Percy suits down hard, and (Y/n) runs over to him, jumping over the rocks and into the riverbed. There is a burning smell; and (Y/n) has a feeling it's Percy's clothes.

"Thalia!" Chiron says. "That is enough!"

(Y/n) helps Percy to his feet and the Son of Poseidon wills the entire creek to rise. It swirls up, hundreds of gallons of water in a massive icy funnel cloud.

"Percy!" Chiron pleads.

. . .

"Ahhhggggggh!"

(Y/n) leaps to his feet, thankfully her leg had completely healed overnight. She isn't sure what is more jarring — the full sunlight that now bathes the room, or the screaming satyr.

"Coach is awake," Leo says, which was kind of unnecessary. Gleeson Hedge is capering around on his furry hindquarters, swinging his club and yelling, "Die!" as he smashes the tea set, whacks the sofas, and charges at the throne.

"Coach!" Jason yells.

Hedge turns, breathing hard. His eyes are so wild, Jason is afraid he might attack. The satyr is still wearing his orange polo shirt and his coach's whistle, but his horns are clearly visible above his curly hair, and his beefy hindquarters are definitely all goat. Could you call a goat beefy? Jason puts the thought aside.

"You're the new kid," Hedge says, lowering his club. "Jason." He looks at Leo, then Piper, who'd apparently also just woken up. Her hair looks like it had become a nest for a friendly hamster.

"Valdez, McLean, Jackson" the coach says. "What's going on? We were at the Grand Canyon. The anemoi thuellai were attacking and —" He zeroes in on the storm spirit cage, and his eyes go back to DEFCON 1. "Die!"

"Whoa, Coach!" Leo steps in his path, which (Y/n) thinks is pretty brave, even though Hedge was six inches shorter. "It's okay. They're locked up. We just sprang you from the other cage."

"Cage? Cage? What's going on? Just because I'm a satyr doesn't mean I can't have you doing plank push-ups, Valdez!"

Jason clears his throat. "Coach — Gleeson — urn, whatever you want us to call you. You saved us at the Grand Canyon. You were totally brave."

"Of course I was!"

"The extraction team came and took us to Camp Half-Blood. We thought we'd lost you. Then we got word the storm spirits had taken you back to their — um, operator, Medea."

"That witch! Wait — that's impossible. She's mortal. She's dead."

"Yeah, well," Leo says, "somehow she got not dead anymore."

Hedge nods, his eyes narrowing. "So! You were sent on a dangerous quest to rescue me. Excellent!"

"Urn." Piper gets to her feet, holding out her hands so Coach Hedge wouldn't attack her. "Actually, Glee — can I still call you Coach Hedge? Gleeson seems wrong. We're on a quest for something else. We kind of found you by accident."

"Oh." The coach's spirits seem to deflate, but only for a second. Then his eyes light up again. "But there are no accidents! Not on quests. This was meant to happen! So, this is the witch's lair, eh? Why is everything gold?"

"Gold?" Jason looks around. From the way Leo, (Y/n), and Piper catch their breath, he guesses they hadn't noticed the throne either.

The room is full of gold — the statues, the tea set Hedge had smashed, the chair that is definitely a throne. Even the curtains — which seems to have opened by themselves at daybreak — appear to be woven of gold fiber.

"Nice," Leo says. "No wonder they got so much security."

"This isn't —" Piper stammers. "This isn't Medea's place, Coach. It's some rich person's mansion in Omaha. We got away from Medea and crash-landed here."

"It's destiny, cupcakes!" Hedge insists. "I'm meant to protect you. What's the quest?"

Before Jason can decide if he wants to explain or just shove Coach Hedge back into his cage, a door opens at the far end of the room.

A pudgy man in a white bathrobe steps out with a golden toothbrush in his mouth. He has a white beard and one of those long, old-fashioned sleeping caps pressed down over his white hair. He freezes when he sees them, and the toothbrush falls out of his mouth.

He glances into the room behind him and calls, "Son? Lit, come out here, please. There are strange people in the throne room."

Coach Hedge does the obvious thing. He raises his club and shouts, "Die!"

It takes all four of them to hold back the satyr. "Whoa, Coach!" Jason sats. "Bring it down a few notches." A younger man charges into the room. Jason guesses he must be Lit, the old guy's son. He is dressed in pajama pants with a sleeveless T-shirt that says Cornhuskers, and he holds a sword that looks like it can husk a lot of things besides corn. His ripped arms are covered in scars – not unlike (Y/n)'s – and his face, framed by curly dark hair, would've been handsome if it wasn't also sliced up.

Lit immediately zeroes in on Jason like he is the biggest threat, and stalks toward him, swinging his sword overhead.

"Hold on!" Piper steps forward, trying for her best calming voice. "This is just a misunderstanding! Everything's fine." Lit stops in his tracks, but he still looks wary. It doesn't help that Hedge is screaming, "I'll get them! Don't worry!"

"Coach," Jason pleads, "they may be friendly. Besides, we're trespassing in their house."

"Thank you!" says the old man in the bathrobe. "Now, who are you, and why are you here?"

"Let's all put our weapons down," Piper says. "Coach, you first."

Hedge clenches his jaw. "Just one thwack?"

"No," Piper says.

"What about a compromise? I'll kill them first, and if it turns out they were friendly, I'll apologize."

"No!" Piper insists.

"Meh." Coach Hedge lowers his club.

Piper gives Lit a friendly sorry-about-that smile. Even with her hair messed up and wearing two-day-old clothes, she looks extremely cute, and (Y/n) feels a little jealous she is giving Lit that smile.

Lit huffs and sheaths his sword. "You speak well, girl — fortunately for your friends, or I would've run them through."

"Appreciate it," Leo said. "I try not to get run through before lunchtime."

The old man in the bathrobe sighs, kicking the teapot that Coach Hedge had smashed. "Well, since you're here. Please, sit down."

Lit frowns. "Your Majesty—"

"No, no, it's fine, Lit," the old man says. "New land, new customs. They may sit in my presence. After all, they've seen me in my nightclothes. No sense observing formalities." He does his best to smile, though it looks a little forced. "Welcome to my humble home. I am King Midas."

"Midas? Impossible," says Coach Hedge. "He died."

They are sitting on the sofas now, while the king reclines on his throne. Tricky to do that in a bathrobe, and Jason keeps worrying the old guy would forget and uncross his legs. Hopefully he's wearing golden boxers under there.

Lit stands behind the throne, both hands on his sword, glancing at Piper and flexing his muscular arms just to be annoying. (Y/n) wonders if she looked that ripped holding a sword. Sadly, she doubts it.

Piper sits forward. "What our satyr friend means, Your Majesty, is that you're the second mortal we've met who should be — sorry — dead. King Midas lived thousands of years ago."

"Interesting." The king gazes out the windows at the brilliant blue skies and the winter sunlight. In the distance, downtown Omaha looks like a cluster of children's blocks — way too clean and small for a regular city.

"You know," the king says, "I think I was a bit dead for a while. It's strange. Seems like a dream, doesn't it, Lit?"

"A very long dream, Your Majesty."

"And yet, now we're here. I'm enjoying myself very much. I like being alive better."

"But how?" Piper asks. "You didn't happen to have a . . . patron?"

Midas hesitates, but there is a sly twinkle in his eyes. "Does it matter, my dear?"

"We could kill them again," Hedge suggests.

"Coach, not helping," Jason says. "Why don't you go outside and stand guard?"

Leo coughs. "Is that safe? They've got some serious security."

"Oh, yes," the king replies. "Sorry about that. But it's lovely stuff, isn't it? Amazing what gold can still buy. Such excellent toys you have in this country!" He fishes a remote control out of his bathrobe pocket and presses a few buttons — a pass code, Jason guesses.

"There," Midas says. "Safe to go out now."

Coach Hedge grunted. "Fine. But if you need me . . ." He winks at Jason meaningfully. Then he points at himself, points two fingers at their hosts, and slices a finger across his throat. Very subtle sign language. "Yeah, thanks," Jason says.

After the satyr leaves, Piper tries another diplomatic smile. "So . . . you don't know how you got here?"

"Oh, well, yes. Sort of," the king replies. He frowns at Lit. "Why did we pick Omaha, again? I know it wasn't the weather."

"The oracle," Lit said.

"Yes! I was told there was an oracle in Omaha." The king shrugs. "Apparently I was mistaken. But this is a rather nice house, isn't it? Lit — it's short for Lityerses, by the way — horrible name, but his mother insisted — Lit has plenty of wide-open space to practice his swordplay. He has quite a reputation for that. They called him the Reaper of Men back in the old days."

"Oh." Piper tries to sound enthusiastic. "How nice."

Lit's smile is more of a cruel sneer. (Y/n) is now one hundred percent sure he didn't like this guy, and Jason is starting to regret sending Hedge outside.

"So," Jason says. "All this gold —"

The king's eyes light up. "Are you here for gold, my boy? Please, take a brochure!"

Jason looks at the brochures on the coffee table. The title says GOLD: Invest for Eternity. "Urn, you sell gold?"

"No, no," the king says. "I make it. In uncertain times like these, gold is the wisest investment, don't you think? Governments fall. The dead rise. Giants attack Olympus. But gold retains its value!"

Leo frowns. "I've seen that commercial."

"Oh, don't be fooled by cheap imitators!" the king says. "I assure you, I can beat any price fora serious investor. I can make a wide assortment of gold items at a moment's notice."

"But..." Piper shakes her head in confusion. "Your Majesty, you gave up the golden touch, didn't you?"

The king looks astonished. "Gave it up?"

"Yeah," Piper says. "You got it from some god —''

"Dionysus," the king agrees. "I'd rescued one of his satyrs, and in return, the god granted me one wish. I chose the golden touch."

"But you accidentally turned your own daughter to gold," Piper remembers. "And you realized how greedy you'd been. So you repented."

"Repented!" King Midas looks at Lit incredulously. "You see, son? You're away for a few thousand years, and the story gets twisted all around. My dear girl, did those stories ever say I'd lost my magic touch?"

"Well, I guess not. They just said you learned how to reverse it with running water, and you brought your daughter back to life."

"That's all true. Sometimes I still have to reverse my touch. There's no running water in the house because I don't want accidents" — he gestures to his statues — "but we chose to live next to a river just in case. Occasionally, I'll forget and pat Lit on the back —"

Lit retreats a few steps. "I hate that."

"I told you I was sorry, son. At any rate, gold is wonderful. Why would I give it up?"

"Well..." Piper looks truly lost now. "Isn't that the point of the story? That you learned your lesson?"

Midas laughs. "My dear, may I see your backpack for a moment? Toss it here."

Piper hesitates, but she isn't eager to offend the king. She dumps everything out of the pack and tosses it to Midas. As soon as he caught it, the pack turns to gold, like frost spreading across the fabric. It still looks flexible and soft, but definitely gold. The king tosses it back.

"As you see, I can still turn anything to gold," Midas says. "That pack is magic now, as well. Go ahead — put your little storm spirit enemies in there."

"Seriously?" Leo is suddenly interested. He takes the bag from Piper and holds it up to the cage. As soon as he unzips the backpack, the winds stir and howl in protest. The cage bars shudder . The door of the prison flies open and the winds get vacuumed straight into the pack. Leo zips it shut and grins. "Gotta admit. That's cool."

"You see?" Midas says. "My golden touch a curse ? Please. I didn't learn any lesson, and life isn't a story, girl. Honestly, my daughter Zoe was much more pleasant as a gold statue."

"She talked a lot," Lit offers.

"Exactly! And so I turned her back to gold." Midas points. There in the corner is a golden statue of a girl with a shocked expression, as if she were thinking, Dad!

"That's horrible!" Piper says.

"Nonsense. She doesn't mind. Besides, if I'd learned my lesson, would I have gotten these?"

Midas pulls off his oversize sleeping cap, and Jason doesn't know whether to laugh or get sick. Midas has long fuzzy gray ears sticking up from his white hair — like Bugs Bunny's, but they aren't rabbit ears. They are donkey ears.

"Oh, wow," Leo says. "I didn't need to see that."

"Terrible, isn't it?" Midas sighs. "A few years after the golden touch incident, I judged a music contest between Apollo and Pan, and I declared Pan the winner. Apollo, sore loser, said I must have the ears of an ass, and voila. This was my reward for being truthful. I tried to keep them a secret. Only my barber knew, but he couldn't help blabbing." Midas pointed out another golden statue — a bald man in a toga, holding a pair of shears. "That's him. He won't be telling anyone's secrets again." The king smiles, and suddenly, he doesn't strike Jason as a harmless old man in a bathrobe. His eyes have a merry glow to the – the look of a madman who knows he's mad, accepted his madness, and enjoyed it. "Yes, gold has many uses. I think that must be why I was brought back, eh Lit? To bankroll our patron."

Lit nods. "That and my good sword arm."

Jason glances at his friends. Suddenly the air in the room seems much colder.

"So you do have a patron," Jason says. "You work for the giants."

King Midas waves his hand dismissively. "Well, I don't care for giants myself, of course. But even supernatural armies need to get paid. I do owe my patron a great debt. I tried to explain that to the last group that came through, but they were very unfriendly. Wouldn't cooperate at all."

Jason slips his hand into his pocket and grabs his gold coin. "The last group?"

"Hunters," Lit snarls. "Blasted girls from Artemis."

Jason feels a spark of electricity — a literal spark — travel down his spine. He catches a whiff of electrical fire like he'd just melted some of the springs in the sofa.

His sister had been here.

"When?" he demands. "What happened?"

Lit shrugs. "Few days ago? I didn't get to kill them, unfortunately. They were looking for some evil wolves, or something. Said they were following a trail, heading west. Missing demigod — I don't recall."

Percy Jackson – (Y/n)'s missing brother, Jason thinks. Annabeth had mentioned the Hunters were looking for him. And in Jason's dream of the burned-out house in the redwoods, he'd heard enemy wolves baying. Hera had called them her keepers. It has to be connected somehow.

Midas scratches his donkey ears. "Very unpleasant young ladies, those Hunters," he recalls. "They absolutely refused to be turned into gold. Much of the security system outside I installed to keep that sort of thing from happening again, you know. I don't have time for those who aren't serious investors."

Jason stands warily and glances at his friends. They got the message.

"Well," Piper says, managing a smile. "It's been a great visit. Welcome back to life. Thanks for the gold bag."

"Oh, but you can't leave!" Midas replies. "I know you're not serious investors, but that's all right! I have to rebuild my collection."

Lit is smiling cruelly. The king rises, and Leo, (Y/n), and Piper move away from him.

"Don't worry," the king assures them. "You don't have to be turned to gold. I give all my guests a choice — join my collection, or die at the hands of Lityerses. Really, it's good either way."

Piper tries to use her charmspeak. "Your Majesty, you can't —"

Quicker than any old man should've been able to move, Midas lashes out and grabs her wrist.

"No!" Jason yells.

Gold frost spreads over Piper, and, in a heartbeat, she is a glittering statue. Leo tries to summon fire, but he'd forgotten his power wasn't working. Midas touches his hand, and Leo transforms into solid metal. (Y/n) stands, stunned, and can't move, and Midas touches her shoulder, and gold spreads across her body.

Jason is so horrified he can't move. His friends – just gone. And he'd been unable to stop it.

Midas smiles apologetically. "Gold trumps fire, I'm afraid." He waves around him at all the gold curtains and furniture. "In this room, my power dampens all others: fire . . . even charmspeak. Which leaves me only one more trophy to collect."

"Hedge!" Jason yells. "Need help in here!"

For once, the satyr doesn't charge in. Jason wonders if the lasers had gotten him, or if he is sitting at the bottom of a trap pit.

Midas chuckles. "No goat to the rescue? Sad. But don't worry, my boy. It's really not painful. Lit can tell you."

Jason fixes on an idea. "I choose combat. You said I could choose to fight Lit instead."

Midas looks mildly disappointed, but he shrugs. "I said you could die fighting Lit. But of course, if you wish."

The king backs away, and Lit raises his sword.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Lit grins. "I am the Reaper of Men!"

"Come on, Cornhusker." Jason summons his own weapon. This time it comes up as a javelin, and Jason is glad for the extra length.

"Oh, gold weapon!" Midas says. "Very nice."

Lit charges.

. . .

Piper wakes up cold and shivering.

She has the worst dream about an old guy with donkey ears chasing her around and shouting, You're it!

"Oh, god." Her teeth chatter. "He turned me to gold!"

"You're okay now." (Y/n) leans over and tucks a warm blanket around her, but she still feels as cold as a Boread.

She blinks, trying to figure out where they are. Next to her, a campfire blazed, turning the air sharp with smoke.

Firelight flickers against rock walls. They are in a shallow cave, but it doesn't offer much protection. Outside, the wind howls. Snow blows sideways. It could've been day or night. The storm makes it too dark to tell.

"L-L-Leo?" Piper manages, her teeth chattering.

"Present and un-gold-ified." Leo is also wrapped in blankets. He doesn't look great, but better than Piper feels. "I got the precious metal treatment too," he says. "But I came out of it faster. Dunno why. We had to dunk you in the river to get you back completely. Tried to dry you off, but . . . it's really, really cold."

"You've got hypothermia," (Y/n) tells Piper. "We risked as much nectar as we could. Coach Hedge did a little nature magic —"

"Sports medicine." The coach's ugly face looms over her. "Kind of a hobby of mine. Your breath might smell like wild mushrooms and Gatorade for a few days, but it'll pass. You probably won't die. Probably."

"Thanks," Piper says weakly. "How did you beat Midas?"

Jason tells her the story, putting most of it down to luck.

The coach snorts. "Kid's being modest. You should've seen him. Hi-yah! Slice! Boom with the lightning!"

"Coach, you didn't even see it," Jason replies, rolling his eyes. "You were outside eating the lawn."

But the satyr is just warming up. "Then I came in with my club, and we dominated that room. Afterward, I told him, 'Kid, I'm proud of you! If you could just work on your upper body strength —'"

"Coach," said Jason.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, please."

"Sure." The coach sits down at the fire and starts chewing his cudgel.

(Y/n) put her hand on Piper's forehead and checks her temperature. "Leo, can you stoke the fire?"

"On it." Leo summons a baseball-sized clump of flames and lobs it into the campfire.

"Do I look that bad?" Piper shivers.

"Nah," (Y/n) replies.

"You're a terrible liar," Piper says. "Where are we?"

"Pikes Peak," Jason replies. "Colorado."

"But that's, what – five hundred miles from Omaha?" Piper's eyes widen slightly.

"Something like that," Jason agrees. "I harnessed the storm spirits to bring us this far. They didn't like that – went a little faster than I wanted, almost crashed us into the mountainside before I could get them back in the bag. I'm not going to be trying that again."

"Why are we here though?" Piper asks.

Leo sniffs. "That's what I asked him."

Jason glances into the storm as if watching for something. "That glittery wind trail we saw yesterday? It was still in the sky, though it had faded a lot. I followed it until I couldn't see it anymore. Then — honestly I'm not sure. I just felt like this was the right place to stop."

"'Course it is." Coach Hedge spits out some cudgel splinters. "Aeolus's floating palace should be anchored above us, right at the peak. This is one of his favorite spots to dock."

"Maybe that was it." Jason knits his eyebrows. "I don't know. Something else, too . . ."

"The Hunters were heading west," Piper remembers. "Do you think they're around here?"

Jason rubs his forearm as if the tattoos are bothering him. "I don't see how anyone could survive on the mountain right now. The storm's pretty bad. It's already the evening before the solstice, but we didn't have much choice except to wait out the storm here. We had to give you some time to rest before we tried moving." He doesn't need to convince her. The wind howling outside the cave scares her, and she can't stop shivering.

"Jace," (Y/n) says, and Jason looks up to meet her sea-green gaze. "I've known Thalia and the Hunters for years. I promise you, that they'll be fine." Then she sees Piper shivering beside her. "We have to get you warm." She holds out her arms a little awkwardly. "Uh, you mind if I . . ."

"I suppose." Piper tries to sound nonchalant, though her stomach erupts with butterflies. She puts her arms around her and holds her. They scoot closer to the fire; Coach Hedge chews on his club and spits splinters into the fire.

Leo breaks out some cooking supplies and starts frying burger patties on an iron skillet. "So, guys, long as you're cuddled up for story time . . . something I've been meaning to tell you. On the way to Omaha, I had this dream. Kinda hard to understand with the static and the Wheel of Fortune breaking in —"

"Wheel of Fortune?" Piper assumes Leo is kidding, but when he looks up from his burgers, his expression was deadly serious.

"The thing is," Leo says, "my dad Hephaestus talked to me."

Leo tells them about his dream. In the firelight, with the wind howling, the story is even creepier. Piper can imagine the static-filled voice of the god warning about giants who were the sons of Tartarus, and about Leo losing some friends along the way. And she had noticed the quick looks exchanged between Leo, Jason, and (Y/n). Wonder what that's about.

Piper tries to concentrate on something good: (Y/n)'s arms around her, the warmth slowly spreading into her body, but she is terrified. "I don't understand. If demigods and gods have to work together to kill the giants, why would the gods stay silent? If they need us —"

"Ha," says Coach Hedge. "The gods hate needing humans. They like to be needed by humans, but not the other way around. Things will have to get a whole lot worse before Zeus admits he made a mistake closing Olympus."

"Coach," Piper says, "that was almost an intelligent comment." (Y/n) laughs.

Hedge huffs. "What? I'm intelligent! I'm not surprised you cupcakes haven't heard about the Giant War. The gods don't like to talk about it. Bad PR to admit you needed mortals to help beat an enemy. That's just embarrassing."

"There's more, though," Jason adds. "When I dreamed about Hera in her cage, she said Zeus was acting unusually paranoid. And Hera — she said she went to those ruins because a voice had been speaking in her head. What if someone's influencing the gods, like Medea influenced us?"

Piper shudders. She'd had a similar thought — that some force they couldn't see was manipulating things behind the scenes, helping the giants. Maybe the same force is keeping Enceladus informed about our movements, and had even knocked their dragon out of the sky over Detroit. Perhaps Leo's sleeping Dirt Woman, or another servant of hers . . .

Leo sets hamburger buns on the skillet to toast. "Yeah, Hephaestus said something similar, like Zeus was acting weirder than usual. But what bothered me was the stuff my dad didn't say. Like a couple of times he was talking about the demigods, and how he had so many kids and all. I don't know. He acted like getting the greatest demigods together was going to be almost impossible — like Hera was trying, but it was a really stupid thing to do, and there was some secret Hephaestus wasn't supposed to tell me."

(Y/n) shifts. Piper can feel the tension in her arms. "Didn't you mention something about Chiron acting the same way when you were meeting him in the Big House?" (Y/n) asks. "

Jason nods "He mentioned a sacred oath not to discuss — something. Coach, you know anything about that?"

"Nah. I'm just a satyr. They don't tell us the juicy stuff. Especially an old —" He stops himself.

"An old guy like you?" Piper asks. "But you're not that old, are you?"

"Hundred and six," the coach mutters.

Leo coughs. "Say what?"

"Don't catch your panties on fire, Valdez. That's just fifty-three in human years. Still, yeah, I made some enemies on the Council of Cloven Elders. I've been a protector a longtime. But they started saying I was getting unpredictable. Too violent. Can you imagine?"

"Why don't you talk to Grover?" (Y/n) asks the satyr.

The Coach lets out a grunt, and then mutters something along the lines of "– don't like askin' for help." Then the Coach scowls. "Yeah, then finally we get a good war going with the Titans, and do they put me on the front lines? No! They send me as far away as possible — the Canadian frontier, can you believe it? Then after the war, they put me out to pasture. The Wilderness School. Bah! Like I'm too old to be helpful just because I like playing offense. All those flower-pickers on the Council — talking about nature."

"I thought satyrs liked nature," Piper ventures.

"Shoot, I love nature," Hedge replies. "Nature means big things killing and eating little things! And when you're a — you know — vertically challenged satyr like me, you get in good shape, you carry a big stick, and you don't take nothing from no one! That's nature." Hedge snorts indignantly. "Flower-pickers. Anyway, I hope you got something vegetarian cooking, Valdez. I don't do flesh."

"Yeah, Coach. Don't eat your cudgel. I got some tofu patties here. Piper's a vegetarian too. I'll throw them on in a second."

The smell of frying burgers filled the air. Piper usually hates the smell of cooking meat, but her stomach rumbles like it wanted to mutiny.

I'm losing it, she thinks. Think broccoli. Carrots. Lentils.

Her stomach isn't the only thing rebelling. Lying by the fire, with (Y/n) holding her, Piper's conscience feels like a hot bullet slowly working its way toward her heart. All the guilt she'd been holding in for the last week, since the giant Enceladus had first sent her a dream, is about to kill her.

Her friends wanted to help her. Jason even said he'd walk into a trap to save her dad. And Piper had shut them out.

For all she knows, she'd already doomed her father when she attacked Medea.

She chokes back a sob. Maybe she'd done the right thing in Chicago by saving her friends, but she'd only delayed her problem. She can never betray her friends, but the tiniest part of her is desperate enough to think, What if I did?

She tries to imagine what her dad would say. Hey, Dad, if you were ever chained up by a cannibal giant and I had to betray a couple of friends to save you, what should I do?

Funny, that had never come up when they did Any Three Questions. Her dad would never take the question seriously, of course. He'd probably tell her one of Grandpa Tom's old stories — something with glowing hedgehogs and talking birds—and then laugh about it as if the advice was silly.

Piper wishes she remembers her grandpa better. Sometimes she dreams about that little two-room house in Oklahoma. She wonders what it would've been like to grow up there.

Her dad would think that was nuts. He'd had spent his whole life running away from that place, distancing himself from the rez, playing any role except Native American. He'd always told Piper how lucky she was to grow up rich and well cared-for, in a nice house in California.

She'd learned to be vaguely uncomfortable about her ancestry — like Dad's old pictures from the eighties, when he had feathered hair and crazy clothes. Can you believe I ever looked like that? he'd say. Being Cherokee was the same way for him — something funny and mildly embarrassing.

But what else were they? Dad didn't seem to know. Maybe that's why he was always so unhappy, changing roles.

Maybe that's why Piper started stealing things, looking for something her dad couldn't give her.

Leo puts the tofu patties on the skillet. The wind keeps raging.

Gradually, Piper starts to feel warmer. She stops shivering and settles against (Y/n)'s chest. Leo hands out the food, and (Y/n) takes a tofu patty, more to make Piper more comfortable; Piper doesn't want to move, talk, or do anything to disrupt the moment. But she has to.

We need to talk." She sits up so she can face (Y/n). "I don't want to hide anything from you guys anymore."

They look at her with their mouths full of burger. Too late to change my mind now.

"Three nights before the Grand Canyon trip," she begins, "I had a dream vision — a giant, telling me my father had been taken hostage. He told me I had to cooperate, or my dad would be killed."

The flames crackles.

Finally Jason says, "Enceladus? You mentioned that name before."

Coach Hedge whistles. "Big giant. Breathes fire. Not somebody I'd want barbecuing my daddy goat."

(Y/n) gives him a shut up look. "Piper, go on. What happened?"

"I — I tried to reach my dad, but all I got was his personal assistant, and she told me not to worry."

"Jane?" Leo remembers. "Didn't Medea say something about controlling her?"

Piper nods. "To get my dad back, I had to sabotage this quest. I didn't realize it would be the four of us. Then after we started the quest, Enceladus sent me another warning: He told me he wanted you three dead. He wants me to lead you to a mountain. I don't know exactly which one, but it's in the Bay Area — I could see the Golden Gate Bridge from the summit. I have to be there by noon on the solstice, tomorrow. An exchange."

She can't meet her friends' eyes. She waits for them to yell at her, or turn their backs, or kick her out into the snowstorm.

Instead, (Y/n) scoots next to her and puts her arm around her again, "Gods, Piper. I'm so sorry."

Leo nods, "No kidding. You've been carrying this around for a week?"

"Piper, we could help you," Jason adds.

She glares at each of them. "Why don't you yell at me or something? I was ordered to kill you."

"Aww, come on," Jason says. "You've saved all three of us on this quest."

"You don't get it!" Piper argues. "I've probably just killed my dad, telling you this."

"I doubt it." Coach Hedge belches. He is eating his tofu burger folded inside the paper plate, chewing it all like a taco. "Giant hasn't gotten what he wants yet, so he still needs your dad for leverage. He'll wait until the deadline passes, see if you show up. He wants you to divert the quest to this mountain, right?"

Piper nods uncertainly.

"So that means Hera is being kept somewhere else," Hedge reasons. "And she has to be saved by the same day. So you have to choose — rescue your dad, or rescue Hera. If you go after Hera, then Enceladus takes care of your dad. Besides, Enceladus would never let you go even if you cooperated. You're obviously one of the seven in the Great Prophecy."

One of the seven. She'd talked about this before with Jason, (Y/n), and Leo, and she supposes it must be true, but she still has trouble believing it. She doesn't feel that important. She is just a stupid child of Aphrodite. How can I be worth deceiving and killing?

"So we have no choice," she replies miserably. "We have to save Hera, or the giant king gets unleashed. That's our quest. The world depends on it. And Enceladus seems to have ways of watching me. He isn't stupid. He'll know if we change course and go the wrong way. He'll kill my dad."

"He's not going to kill your dad," Leo says. "We'll save him."

"We don't have time!" Piper cries. "Besides, it's a trap."

We're your friends, beauty queen," Leo said. "We're not going to let your dad die. We just gotta figure out a plan."

Coach Hedge grumbles. "Would help if we knew where this mountain was. Maybe Aeolus can tell you that. The Bay Area has a bad reputation for demigods. Old home of the Titans, Mount Othrys, sits over Mount Tam, where Atlas holds up the sky. I hope that's not the mountain you saw."

Piper tries to remember the vista in her dreams. "I don't think so. This was inland."

Jason frowns at the fire, like he is trying to remember something.

"Bad reputation . . . that doesn't seem right. The Bay Area . . ."

"You think you've been there?" Piper asks the son of Zeus.

"I. . . He looks like he is almost on the edge of a breakthrough. Then the anguish comes back into his eyes. "I don't know. Hedge, what happened to Mount Othrys?"

Hedge takes another bite of paper and burger. "Well, Kronos built a new palace there last summer. Big nasty place, was going to be the headquarters for his new kingdom and all. Weren't any battles there, though. Kronos marched on Manhattan, tried to take Olympus. If I remember right, he left some other Titans in charge of his palace, but after Kronos got defeated in Manhattan, the whole palace just crumbled on its own."

"No," Jason says suddenly.

Everyone looks at him.

"What do you mean, 'No'?" Leo questions.

"That's not what happened. I—" He tenses, looking toward the cave entrance. "Did you hear that?"

For a second, nothing. Then Piper hears it: howls piercing the night.

Word Count: 11828 words

[nitazenes]

lmao you mad?

idgaf who sees any of my messy BS at this point. There's no way I could restart or anything because everyone who has ever stalked me has found my socmed

but it's my turn to vent

you have the gall to get petty and vague me and say that you are frustrated when, let's take a look at the facts, shall we?

We were together for over a year and not once did you try to get to know me. Never asked questions. Do you even know how old I am or what gender I identify as? Like the bare minimum bc i dont think you do.

The whole time I felt like you loved your husband more than me and i was just a side piece

I took time to actively invest myself in your interests, researching things you were into, following every blog you made because despite getting nothing in return I still loved you.

You abandoned me in the middle of me being controlled and abused when you were in the exact same predicament previously. Would you have wanted that when you were going through your abuse? Me just walking away to let you deal with it instead of being supportive and understanding.

When I came back to you after that horrible relationship ended you said you still wanted me to be part of your life and you wanted to take time and not rush but you left me believing that you were my supporter.

2 months pass and it's the same shit "good morning" "goodnight" being our only messages through the day. And sometimes i didnt even get that.

I come back to you to tell you that I want to be your partner again and you tell me youre no longer attracted to me. I don't blame you for that, in fact, i kind of suspected you were only into men

Which confuses me because I'm NB/gender fluid/have male alters. i identify as a man sometimes. i still grow my facial hair out sometimes. my legs havent been shaved in years like im not a girl dude so i felt that was a little transphobic

I may look feminine and i may embrace that feminine look currently but im not a girl

None of your alters ever really spoke to me. If we spoke at all that day

Ultimately we dated for over a year and you still didn't know anything about me. In fact In the end there, I was trying to be more of an initiator for you and was even getting pushy about wanting to tell you about my past bc that's how I bond with others. I show them my trust by knowing something that makes me vulnerable but you would give me weak responses to things i was passionate about.

Then I tell you I don't want to be your friend. After all of the above, if i did that to you, would you have wanted me as a friend? No. in fact it kind of felt like you just wanted me to kiss your ass while your real relationship was with your husband.

"We never got over you" BULL.

I wasnt going to post anything about this but yknow what, if youre going to bitch and complain about me, when I tried to give you everything. I was going to send you fabrics that ive saved and kept bc my grandmother gave them to me but I knew you had an interest in sewing so I cut up that fabric to send you pieces. I have a whole box of shit ive gathered over the past year I was going to send to you. I made Kandi bracelets for every alter i met or knew about

and what did you do for me?

take. take. take. But you'd never give.

That's why I dont want to be friends with you because even in your silence, you were hurting me. And at this point, people who hurt me have to go. Im too old for this shit anymore and I have a lot more to worry about than being practically ignored by my "partner" and causing my BPD to split every time I saw you posting about how much you were romantically invested *in a character in a video game* yes, i got jealous over a video game character because you would give that character more thought and attention than your own fucking partner.

So block me on everything, go ahead, everyone does.

I hope you get help. I hope you get everything you've ever wanted, but I don't want to hear a word about it.

This is me closing your chapter in my life. I'm sorry it had to be this way.

-Rey

[animelover20]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨ !

Oooh now this is the shit I like seeing at 6 in the morning😃 thank you, I actually really like talking about my taste in music. Sorry if I ramble on a bit too much than what you were expecting tho I'm just really excited.

I'm guessing these don't have to be in any specific order so they ain't. Btw artist names are in bold because it looked too confusing otherwise.

Most of these are either gonna be metal,loud as fuck/chaotic, just weird or sometimes even a mix of all of those.

1. Hand me my shovel I'm going in! - will wood and the tapeworms. It's fun as fuck plus the songs been theorised to be about mental health and how the person singing isn't 'sick' enough to get help. (Which is backed by a few lyrics especially "so I bookmark my DSM cause I need you to remember my place".) It's such a cool and fun song because of how chaotic it is and will wood and the tapeworms are one of my favourite bands overall so don't be surprised if they appear a few times😁

2. Death - Æther realm. You've probably never heard of it but it's really cool. You won't like it if your not a fan of death since that's the whole song. Essential made an album based off tarot cards which is such a cool concept(I love tarot btw) but I've only listened to this one so far. Anyway onto the meaning. It's an extremely positive song about death and it actually applies to a lot of my beliefs on death aswell. Instead of describing death as this horrible thing it's so much more peaceful. With a few lyrics being("if I had another chance to live I think id rather be dead" and the one that follows every chorus being "if this is really death then it's not so bad.")I really hate death being seen as a negative thing because frankly it isn't. It's a comforting concept. at the end of the day,no matter what you do,no matter how you live, death is going to come for you. And you know what that's ok. It's one of my favourite songs for this reason. And I know not everyone will agree with me but that's fine.

3. Per Aspera ad inferi - Ghost. I will just quickly mention, they are a satanist band,if you're not into that then ya know don't be mean,their songs go hard lmao. Anyway i am not apart of their religion but I respect it. Anyway the name is essentially a play on the Latin phrase 'through hardship to the stars' or Per Aspera astra.' (rough translation btw) whereas the song name instead translates to 'through hardships to hell.' which is so fucking cool. It's catchy as fuck song and I find it getting stuck in my head a lot.

4. Necromancin Dancin - Bear Ghost. It's just a really fun song,chaotic as fukc too. Plus the thought of people just being revived just to start dancin is really funnym. Added bonus that is song is in my doffy playlist (because of the whole controlling people I thought why not be able to do it to corpses aswell😃) it's actually the only song so far to be apart of said playlist but that may change as I go. I don't know if this song has any specific meaning either then necromancer making people dance. But it's pretty good.

5. Take me back to Eden - sleep token. Ok so I've been making this list up as I went which is why I said in 4 that there might be another song from my playlist and what I said could change and it did. This song is in my doffy playlist and it's actually the song that inspired the playlist in the first place so,hats off to it. Anyway yay metal. Loud, amazing vocals and metal? What more could you ask for. It's mostly been attributed to doffy because of the whole theme of being thrown out of this holy place and desperately trying to get back which...(If you know you know.) I fucking love this song so much and I am genuinely out of words to describe it.

And that's about it I think I'm happy with this. Anyway again thank you for making my morning and giving me something to do that I actually really enjoy. Sorry if this is a ramble I just really like music.

I hope you have a great day/night❤️

[jackstheprinceofhearts]

spoiler-free review on the stolen heir from an ex cardan greenbriar simp

here is photo evidence of me being cringe

alright so I have proven my ex-simp history now we can continue.

alright so first of all, let's talk about what I liked:

I thought the characters were funny, the art on the pages was gorgeous, the hardcover itself was amazing, and I really liked suren and oak as characters!

I also really liked the magic and all that and found it really interesting. I'll talk about the magic again later in the review some more)

I also thought it was just a fun book in general so I rated it 5/5 ⭐. now I do have to say it had no plot and normally I dislike that BUT if the characters are good then I can really enjoy the plotless vibes sometimes but some people just aren't the same like that. but overall I think holly did a pretty good job at making a fun book!

now, for the stuff i didn't like.... I have a few things to go over:

for me, I found the book pretty hard to follow, especially around the end... I was just so confused and maybe I'm just dumb??? but I found it to be really confusing at times.

also, I was pretty disappointed when we were told by holly that we would be getting jude and cardan "crumbs"??? like if you've read it you would know that there is barely anything, they were mentioned a few times and I get that it's oak and suren's story but I really did expect to at least like have them described or see them at some point even just one scene because she kind of made it seem like that.

like yes, there were some but when you hear that you expect there to be like scenes with them you know?? like by crumbs I thought she meant there would be like more of them in it than what we got. so I feel like a few people were just a little disappointed is all.

the next point I have is that all of the character development was at the end!!! like come on bro could we at least have had some foreshadowing or build-up or just SOMETHING to indicate what would happen?? I feel like we needed more build-up instead of just getting this ending for shock value and I was just so confused that I had to ask a few people what happened 💀 because it really just came out of nowhere and not like a "woah that plot twist was so good" like I guessed the twist but how the characters acted is what came out of nowhere but yeah I still liked the ending but it really made no sense.

also the middle of the book?? I remember very little from that because it just felt like the beginning had a lot, the end had a lot, but the middle and a lot of parts I just kind of really forgettable and I'm not saying the story is like bad because of that but I just found it hard to remember stuff but I did read it pretty fast so idk maybe if someone read it a bit slower than I did they may have remembered more but I usually remember a lot.

I also just wish some things were explained MORE. I don't mind when it's left for you to figure out sometimes but honestly, I just felt like we weren't getting AS MUCH as we could be getting, like if suren's abilities had been used a bit more or if we had seen more of what oak could do I think that could've made the story a lot more interesting. and I know yes, yes there's a second book, and oak is supposed to have this air of mystery around him and what not but with duologies, each book has to be able to stand on its own a bit more so I just wish we could've explored the magic just a little bit more

but yeah there is my spoiler-free review of the stolen heir and my thoughts on it LMAO I hope you guys enjoyed this very long review and also if you guys want me to give my thoughts on more books or start posting more about different books then please let me know. (ofc I will still be posting about ouabh & caraval, but I just wanted to make some posts on the stolen heir and share my thoughts since it is currently what everyone is talking about.) love u guys thank you for reading!!!

[tasteleeknow]

Hiya again, This is the AO3 confused writing anon (of that makes sense lmao) thank you for the kindness! I've figured out a lot of the writing aspect by just messing around with it lol!

I guess I have 1 more follow up question: were you ever afraid to post what you've written? (And I guess a second question of: if so how did you overcome that?)

It's just that this is so different than the drawings I usually post cause not only is it writing (which to me is always more intimate than a drawing) but it's Explicit. And right now it's just sitting in my drafts cause I am to afraid to do anything with it

hello! of course i was! well i was actually so afraid i never even attempted writing at all. i've been an avid reader of fic for like 10 years at this point but i only gave writing a go in september.

i actually just sat down one day and just ... didn't think. it's rare for my brain to let me just do something that's made me anxious so long without all the overthinking so i'm not sure why it worked that day. basically when i finished writing (this was taste btw) i realised i may as well share. if no one read it or enjoyed it, i wouldn't have lost anything. i thought maybe if i put it in the tags on here and then on ao3, a few ppl might read it in passing, and if i was lucky i MIGHT get a comment or two.

the reality was that i received so much positive feedback it encouraged me to try again, and again, and now i have a new hobby! i totally understand how intimate it feels to share something you've written. it feels a bit like sharing a diary entry online for absolutely anyone to see, especially when you are just starting. i wish i had a clear answer for how exactly i was suddenly able to write and post, i think it was just deciding one day to be brave and see what happens! sometimes the things that scare you, that make your heart race, are the things that have the biggest potential to bring you a little joy. honestly, every time i post i think ok this is the one people will hate and i'm nervous—but it's always worth it. i highly encourage you to give it a go! even if you don't see any feedback, it's exciting to overcome a fear and try something new. i'm rooting for you!

[itgirlgyu]

"but im soooo intrigued to how you've written it" uhm. Well.

the plot basically was that i was putting on "fox boy" w soobin and i went up to a random coworker saying i'm gonna put him on a blind date (wrong fox boy. he meant yeonjun??) and the fox boy i went up to thought that i was lying bcs apparently rumors ab me and soobin were in the office so something happened ab me overworking myself and then i fainted or wtv and then i was on some meds and was acting high.. let me js quote ts. pls read with your fingers over ur eyes.

you just see soobin running straight out of your office / what a “nice” sight / except he’s yelling and.. panicked?! [..] hearing that the beauty that you thought was using you as a revenge plan against her boyfriend was in need of pills made you confused

nothing but an observer usually, you follow the crowd of people huddled over ***'s office to watch her just passed out on the laptop

soobin really *is* dramatic. / and when he comes bursting in the room, he pulls you with him to stand next to her

“wha–” “just trust me.” / so when he basically force feeds her the pills and her first sight is you, her eyes brighten up so much and she sits up like getting a promotion

and enduring three minutes of your boss being hazy would seem easy right. / wrong. / after everyone left, she failed standing up three times

just to HUG you?? / turning to soobin for help, you just watched as he took a photo, mouthing ‘blackmail’ as he did so

“may i ask why i’m being hugged, **** ***-ssi?” / she pulled away like a child reluctantly separating from their parents before going to summer camp

“i’ve been looking for you, fox boy”

the way your eyebrows furrowed must have looked like a look of disgust because the pout formed on her face afterwards was so apparent that it was almost comical

this is your BOSS here / but why is she kind of cute.. / after a bunch of communication being cleared, it just ends up in a hug that spans longer than needs be

“y-you can let go no–” “no.”

SOMEONE REMOVE ME NOW.

WAIT WAIT WHY DID IT TAKE ME SO. LONG TO REPLY TO THSI BUT HOLY SHIT HOLY shit wait wait wait THIS IS SO FUCMING FUNNY?!? THIS IS SO GOOFY I WANT THIS SO BAD THE WAY I CAN IMAGINE IT SO WELL LIKW SOOBIN. ANS HIS DRAMATIC ASS OMG Brooooo YOUR MIND I WANNA READ I WANNA READ MORE DUDE YOURE SO FUCKING COOL THIS IS SO FUNNY!!!!! LIKE him running like a frenzied man but everyone going ayyo what a nice view lmao stfu this soo funny

[ghostselena]

Shouldn't have done that

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: The Cameron boy finds you a few days later hanging out at the country club, using this to his advantage to sweep you away.

Warnings: Gun and knife mention, Confrontation, Slightly toxic ain't gonna lie, a furious Rafe, Small heated makeout scene but that's about it, lots of cursing, there's blood play for a sec, 18+

[slightly edited]

a/n: This is part two to pull it, just wanted to add a small spicy scene, nothing too crazy. These two be toxic as hell lmao I love it! I've never written something like this so it might feel a bit unrealistic but hey, it's a fic, enjoy! ;) [1.4k words]

You may not copy or post this as your own anywhere

***

You were twirling around the straw that sat inside your now melted drink, your second one of the day.

Sipping away the hours, gradually slow has been your ritual for the last few days, keeping your mind occupied with anything but the memory of Rafe— pressing the gun to your chest and enjoying the way he had control of your life, even if it were just for a mere second.

Since then, you've carried it everywhere you went, hoping you'd bump into him and face the man who's been tormenting you in your sleep. Hence why, you were still sitting in the same spot after 2 hours, eyes locked on the door.

The bartender stood in front of you, tapping on the wooden table to catch your attention, "Another refill?"

You took your eyes off the entrance and nodded, "Please, and add it to my tab,"

You were nervous, to say the least. This place had become his second home, there's no way you won't find him here.

A few minutes later you were handed a fresh Mai Tai, happily grabbing it from his hand with a smile, to which he returned and turned away to attend to the other customers nearby.

You were too busy in your own little world, only sitting up straight when you felt a figure sit next to you.

He grabbed your drink and downed it in one go, placing down the glass cup with a loud thud as he turned to face you.

The familiar scent brought goosebumps down your spine— you thought you were going to spot him before he found you. Completely ruining your plan to confront him from a distance.

"I think you've had enough," Rafe's eyes burned a hole through your head, his pink lips were licked by his sweet tongue as he waited for your response.

Taking a deep breath you turned to him, eyes going straight to his lips that were now wet, calling your name to claim them as yours, "Why do you care?"

His eyes softened, stopping himself from revealing his soft side with a chuckle. His hand rubbed the stubble he'd been growing out, very deep in thought, "I think you have something, that belongs to me," his lips were now near your ear, whispering the soft-spoken words, that only you could hear, "It's not very nice to steal, pretty girl,"

Your hand had pushed him away softly, grabbing onto your purse and holding the gun in your hand from inside, aiming it at his side, "Back, the fuck up."

His eyes followed the movement of your hands, earning yet another soft chuckle that left his lips.

You were confused, dumbfounded even. How he could find amusement while you had a literal weapon that could impale him in less than a second?

Your breath hitched when you felt something pointy near your stomach, his lips pressing themselves against your ear once more as he whispered, "You feel this?" his hand moved slightly, pressing the knife more against you, slight

"Raf- Rafe.." you whispered, your body was shaking slightly— but not enough to catch anyone's attention, "You either follow me, or I'll do it right here, in front of everybody," he mumbled, tapping your thighs with his free hand.

All you could do was nod and wave over to the waiter to close your tab, "Just put it away, Rafe." your voice was soft and quiet, only smiling as the waiter brought back your card and waved you goodbye.

When you stood up, so did he. He stayed behind you, pointing the knife against your back as you walked outside. The sun hit your face, making you squint as you covered your face with your hand.

You reached the side of your car and he pressed your back against the passenger door, "Give me the gun,"

This is what you wanted, to have him in front of you and hand him back the gun and part your separate ways. So, why were you being so damn stubborn?

"No." you shrugged, wanting to pull his strings and see how far he'll go with you

"Y/n, stop playing fucking games, hand it over." his arms caged you in, nostrils flaring down at your smaller frame. The tall boy tried taunting you but to no avail, he kept failing.

Your hands pressed themselves against his chest to keep him from engulfing your space, "Finder's keepers, Cameron,"

He clenched his hands into fists, pulling away from you before walking back and forth, "You're making this harder than it has to be," he spat, wiping his hands against his shorts. He stopped pacing, his hands pressed themselves against his head while he held the knife—he was stressed, "Just give me, the fucking gun."

"I dont know, I've been liking the way it feels in my hand," you loved tormenting him, earning yet another eye roll from the boy.

He pointed the knife at your chest, reliving the same moments with you for a few seconds, "I don't wanna hurt you,"

You looked down at the knife, leaning forward slightly before pressing your tongue against the side. You kept your eyes on him as you wet the blade with your tongue, the sharpness of it cutting through the thin layer of your buds. The pain felt good, you hissed slightly as you slid your way up to his knuckles—that you gently kissed with your warm lips.

His lips parted in shock as he watched you, cheeks feeling hot while he held his hand still, scared to poke you.

There were droplets of blood dripping down the sides of the blade, closing the gap between you both—gun in your hand, "Hm, I don't think you can,"

You gave him a grin, the blood had smeared all around your teeth, giving him an image he won't be able to forget.

He didn't know how to feel, if you would've told him a few days ago that you were this daring, he would've laughed.

He had no words as you pressed the gun against his chest, "Here, you can have it back,"

You dont know where the sudden courage came from, and you honestly didn't care. He brought out something within you, this anger that you had pent-up inside of you— always made an appearance when he was around.

It was sudden, all you could hear were the two weapons falling onto the concrete as his hands cupped your cheeks. His lips were on yours, his body pressing yours against the door.

You didn't know how to react, your arms quickly wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding him close as he explored your mouth with his tongue.

He was addicted to the taste, the metallic flavor on your tongue against his had him on the verge of explosion, he wanted more, he craved more.

It could be the alcohol in your system kicking in, the way you let his lips devour yours. His tongue massaged your insides, rolling them over each other with need and desire.

His hands had slid down to your ass, cupping them in his hands. You'd both forgotten to be civil, not a care in the world about getting caught.

Two young adults making out in the middle of a parking lot, in a very busy area of figure 8—with two highly dangerous weapons laying on the floor. What could go wrong?

He pulled away to catch his breath, his lips barely touching yours, "Been wanting to do that, since that day,"

And it was the truth. The moment you sped away in your car with the gun, he was intrigued by you. The only person who dared to stand up to him, push him to his limits, and bring him back down.

Your eyes stayed closed, savoring the moment. Who were you to deny Rafe Cameron a kiss? This was bad, you weren't supposed to enjoy the way he made you feel.

"I dont think I can stop," you whispered, holding yourself on your tippy-toes to try and match his height, which was near impossible.

"Who said I want you to?" he pressed a soft kiss to your temple, dragging his lips down to your neck, leaving open mouth kisses.

With a click, your car door was opened by your hand, pushing him inside into the backseat, "You sure?" you asked, closing the door behind you

His hands pulled you to sit on his lap, parting your legs to wrap them around his waist, "Just shut up, and fucking kiss me."

-

Is it bad that to like these two this much? Shitty ending though my apologies

-

tag : [Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed! :) ]

@gillybear17 @my-baexht-ls @phildunphyisadilf @ailee-celeste @onmykneesforrafe

[hellfirecvnt]

Eddie smut please!

I’m thinking a fic based on the song sex from the 1975. Eddie and the reader are best friends and used to hang out every day until she got a boyfriend which Eddie is SUPER jealous of.

💕

Took me a second to get to this one, but I wanted it to be REALLY GOOD bc I love The 1975 and I love Eddie and I love you for being so supportive. 🥺❤ Also let me just tell you, I had SO much written and my phone died so I lost ALL OF IT. But we're back. We're trying again. Fuck.

I decided I love this prompt and I'm gonna make a series of this one specifically lmao. Once again, sorry it took so long. I almost gave up writing entirely after I lost my progress. 😂

She's Got a Boyfriend, Anyway.

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings: smut at the end (+18, minors DNI), cheating, a lil bit of angst- I think, more?

It was the same routine everyday ever since you two met six years ago. You and Eddie spend every day, after school and weekends together. Aside from Hellfire, you're each other's only friend.

"Do you know Billy? Hargrove, I think?" You innocently ask, not thinking much of it.

"Hargrove? Yeah, guys a fucking dick." Eddie quips.

"I dunno, he seemed pretty sweet to me." You twirl your hair around your finger, watching the trees zoom past you as Eddie drives you both to his house.

"Oh, come on, Y/N. Don't tell me you're falling for that fake pretty-boy bullshit again." He laughs, referencing the fact that you dated Steve and got your heart broken within 5 months.

"Of course I'm not. I'm just, curious. He seems really nice, to me." A smile can't be helped from finding itself on your face.

"I'm nice to you. Why don't we just fuck in the back of the van right now?" Eddie furrows his brow dramatically, faking confusion for his perverted jokes.

"Shut up, idiot. I'm serious. I need your help picking out an outfit. He asked me out today." The last part of your sentence causes Eddie's smile to fall a bit. He may have hidden it behind an immature joke, but he was being serious too.

"Why would I know what Hargrove wants you to wear? What's wrong with the way you dress?" He questions.

"I don't know, man. I just want to look a little different. I don't want to look like-"

"A freak?" Eddie raises an eyebrow in an I see how it is fashion.

"No, I just want to look clean-cut. A little bit less like all I do is smoke weed and listen to music."

"But that is all you do." Eddie teases as he pulls into his driveway. "And if you want my fashion advice, my first suggestion is to stop stealing my shirts." He points to the worn band shirt draped over you. You roll your eyes and follow him to the front door of his trailer. Eddie's uncle is laying on the couch, looking a little pale.

"Wayne? Take the night off?" Eddie checks in. Wayne explains he's feeling sick so he took today off to recover.

"Hey, let's just hotbox the van. That way it doesn't get all smokey in here while Wayne's not feeling well." Your suggestion earns a thumbs up from Wayne. You've always been considerate like that, something he and Eddie both appreciate about you.

In the van, you climb past the seats, settling into the pile of blankets and various snack wrappers from when you and Eddie camp outside of concert venues for those barricade spots. Eddie follows close behind, eyes fixed on you as you get comfortable, kicking off your high tops and grabbing a magazine to flip through.

"You think Cyndi Lauper is like... Freaky? Like in bed?" You ask, still looking down at the bright red-haired woman's avant-garde makeup.

"She definitely either likes to be slapped around or likes to slap you around." A large, ring-clad hand takes the joint from his mouth and passes it to you. His jewelry catches the dim light of the back of the van.

While you hit the joint, Eddie flips through his many cassettes. He finally settles on Metallica's Kill Em All album, popping it into his radio. He relaxes into the moment, staring at you as he did every day for six years. He's slowly starting to figure out why it's his favorite past time, but for now he's just happy to be your friend.

"Do you think I should take my nose ring out for my date with Billy?" Your question shakes him from his daze and the mention of Billy's name causes his jaw to clench.

"Why would you do that?" Eddie's upper lip twitches in disgust. "He asked you out looking like this, why would you want to look different now?"

"I don't know, dude. I'm really fucking nervous." You cover your face with one hand, dragging it down. You're lying on your stomach, flipping through the magazine while your thoughts race. "He's coming to get me at 6 PM tomorrow." Eddie passes you the joint in a manner that says "shut up."

"Listen, can we change the subject? You're gonna make me sick." His voice comes out a little meaner than he intended, but he's too awkward to know how to fix it. Your eyes widen and you attempt to soften the tension.

"You're right," you laugh. "I tend to ramble a lot." Your face is flushed slightly with the tiniest hint of embarrassment because you didn't mean to get carried away. Noticing your shift, he wants to punch himself in the face.

"Uh, here! Let's smoke two joints and see who smokes theirs faster." Eddie shoves a joint between your fingers.

"You're on, Munson." You wait for him to finish rolling a second joint and you both lean into one lighter so you start smoking at exactly the same time. There were other lighters, y'all just aren't that smart.

As each of you pulls on your joints to get the cherry started, Eddie looks up from the flame, directly into your eyes. It takes a second for you to notice, but you look up, meeting his gaze. He doesn't move or blink, so you give a small smile around your joint. You lower the lighter after a second, having sufficiently lit the joints.

The contrast of the lighter going out shakes Eddie from his trance. The rest of the hang-out was casual and nothing short of your usual day together. Talking about sex, drugs, music, and occasionally DnD. Hours pass before you finally check your watch.

"Holy shit, Eddie. It's 10 o'clock!" You jump up from the soft blankets in the van. "I gotta go, I have to go to sleep soon or I'm gonna look dead tomorrow."

"Hop up front. I'll take you home." Eddie offers as if it's not your only way of getting home. The second you get in your door, you drag Eddie to your room.

"Please help me pick out an outfit, Eddie. It'll be so fast." You tug on the sleeve of his leather jacket. He rolls his eyes and hesitantly agrees. You scramble through your closet looking for something with the least amount of rips and tears. "What about this?" You hold up a dress you've never worn because it's periwinkle and you're not with it.

"A dress? Y/N, seriously?" Again, meaner than he intended. You once again did that thing you do when you're embarrassed and just try to smile the blush away, agreeing with whatever is being said to you.

"You're right, you're right. Um-" It was apparent in your voice that you were getting angry.

"Hey, Y/N-" Eddie attempt to meet your downcast eyes.

"Eddie, you can leave because I can tell you don't want to do this. I know you don't care about the date, and I know you hate Billy, so it was kind of shitty of me to ask you to help me. You're just," you stop to toss your hands up, defeated and dramatic. "My only friend and I like having your opinion on things."

Eddie could explode right now. He could punch himself directly between his own two eyes. No one has ever bitten their tongue as hard as he wished he'd bitten his just seconds ago. He stares at you apologetically, lips pressed tightly together in a speechless, straight line.

"Dude, I'm sorry. Let me help you, I was being a dick." Eddie start rummaging through your clothes.

"It's fine, man. I'm just nervous, I'm sorry." You look at the floor, defeated after your little outburst.

"Shut up, try this on." Eddie tosses you a random top. This is how all of your apologies went, ever since you met. They're almost instant. You've never had a "fight" last longer than a few hours.

You try the top on and it's perfect. Flattering in all the best ways, making you feel hot and comfortable. You pair it with a go-to pair of flared jeans and call it a night. Eddie waves and flashes a toothy grin as he exits out your window. He doesn't even actually need to use the window, he just likes to.

Back at his trailer, Eddie tosses and turns with anger. He didn't care that you had a date, he didn't care that it was with Hawkins's number one womanizer, he knew you could take care of yourself. He was mad because it wasn't him taking you on that date.

The next day Eddie wakes up feeling like he hasn't slept at all. His dreams were consumed with pictures of you, naked on his bed, reading your magazines and getting high. Just the memory of the dream is enough for him to wake up hard.

He shoves those thoughts to the back of his mind and checks the clock. Noon. Not bad for a weekend. Eddie throws the blankets back over his head and falls back asleep, silently hoping for more dreams of you.

Your date with Billy is in just a few hours, so you're getting ready in advance just in case. In case of what, you ask? You don't know. You're just really nervous. Billy picks you up and the two of you head off to the movies.

By the end of your date, you're officially Billy Hargrove's girlfriend. The way he asked was so perfect and romantic, you don't even know where to start. Your first instinct is to call your best friend and tell him everything, but then you remember how annoyed it made him before. So you hang up the phone before dialing and head to your bedroom.

Eddie wakes up, again, and checks the clock. 10 PM.

"Oh, shit." Eddie jumps up and runs to the living room. "Wayne, did Y/N call?"

"Nah, no calls. You sleep all Saturday?" Wayne's voice carries worry.

"Yeah, I don't wanna talk about it. I'll see you later." Eddie calls as he heads out to his van. A short trip later, he arrives at your house. This time using the window because he has to. He taps on it a little before just opening it as wide as possible.

"HOLY SHIT!" You yell having woken up to a dark, broad shouldered figure climbing through your window.

"You should really lock your windows, Y/N. I could've had ulterior motives." Eddie winks in the moonlight leaking through the window.

"Fuck, dude. What are you doing here? It's like 11 o'clock." You rub your eyes.

"It's 10:15 and I just wanted to see how the date went, damn." Eddie drops onto your bed. "So how'd it go?" Eddie smiles over your sleepy face.

"He asked me to be his girlfriend." You gush, blushing and fluttering your tired eyes. "We're seeing each other again tomorrow!"

"That's awesome, wow." Eddie works hard to sound excited for you, but he feels sick to his stomach. Seeing you this happy is enough for him to keep his comments to himself, though. For now.

Eddie turns to look at you, but you've already fallen back asleep. He watches you for a moment, regretting his choice to come here because this news is going to eat him alive when he tries to sleep tonight. Not to mention him already sleeping all day today.

The next day, you don't see each other. The day after that, the same. Billy steals you away every chance he gets. He knows you and Eddie are best friends, and he's hoping to help you realize there are more people to hang around than the local freak.

Two whole weeks pass and the only time Eddie sees you is at Hellfire. It's Friday again and you've arrived at Hellfire before anyone else, except Eddie, of course.

"Hey, man. I'm really excited for this finale!" You beam at him, causing his heart rate to rise.

"I'm glad you've still been able to make it considering you're always so busy." Eddie teases.

"I know, I'm sorry. We should hang out tonight!" Your suggestion catches Eddie off guard. "I'll tell Billy I'm riding home with you."

"Sounds great," Eddie smirks, basking in the idea of you telling Billy you can't hang because you're going to Eddie's. Hellfire club dismisses and you follow Eddie out to his van. Outside the doors, Billy is waiting, leaning against his Camaro.

"Hey, babe," Billy's smooth voice wraps around you like a rope, drawing you into him. "You ready to go?"

"Actually, I'm hanging out with Eddie tonight." You point to Eddie next to his van. "I haven't seen him in a few weeks, so I-"

"But you see him at Hellfire, don't you?" Billy, visibly bothered, folds his arms across his chest.

"Well, yeah. But that's like- it's not like hanging out. We're killing things and he's playing God." You struggle to explain.

"So you're just gonna go over to some guy's house, at night, instead of seeing your boyfriend?" Billy was starting to raise his voice ever so slightly.

"Whoa, man. I've known him for six years." You shake your head in shock.

"Whatever, if you're acting single tonight, I can do the same." And with that, he slides into his car and drives off. He makes sure to squeal the tires as he creates more distance between you. You scoff before shaking your head and walking over to Eddie.

"The fuuuuck was that?" Eddie tries to hide a giggle, giddy knowing he makes Billy so jealous.

"I don't know, dude. But it was kind of hard to watch." You laugh, causing Eddie's laugh to finally escape. The two of you crack up over Billy's little performance before heading back to Eddie's.

"He's literally never done that before. It was so weird. And he's fully aware that we see each other every day, he's never once made it a thing." You pass the joint to Eddie. With your legs extended across his mattress, you propped yourself up on his pillows. Fully occupying the bed.

"That's so fucking weird, man. I've heard he's a little insane." Eddie sits at the end of his bed, practicing chords on his acoustic guitar.

"I don't think he's insane. I just don't understand why he reacted that way." Your eyes remain glued to the page even after you feel Eddie's gaze on you. "What?" You finally look up at him.

"Just... Kinda sounds like you're defending him for no reason. You know, like you did before." He raises his eyebrows.

"Eddie, I-" you start, but you're cut off by car doors outside. You both rush to the blinds to peek, being nosy busybodies, but not giving a shit. That's when you notice Billy's car in the driveway of another trailer that he definitely doesn't live in.

"That's uh... That's Natalia's house." Eddie speaks nervously, knowing Natalia is well known at your school for... Let's just say, stealing boyfriends. As Billy approaches the door, he turns as if he knows you see him and winks at you with a big, gorgeous, evil grin. He disappears behind the door without a word.

"Well, damn." You stare in shock. "Good thing it's only been a few weeks, but damn."

"That was... A lot. You okay?" Eddie places a hand on your shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm not too worried about it." You shrug. Eddie scans your features for any kind of emotion, there doesn't seem to be any.

"Okay..." Eddie draws the word out. "Well, you uh... You acting single tonight?" He side-eyes you.

"Munson," you place a playful hand on your chest as if you're offended. "Feeling bold?" You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his question, but you can't deny the excitement it ignited in your stomach.

"Just seems a little unfair, that's all." He shrugs, carefully making his way closer to you.

"I guess so." You bite your lip. Your eyes are locked on your shoes until you feel two large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up to see Eddie gazing down at you with half-lidded, dark brown eyes.

"Let me," Eddie takes a deep breath. "Let me make you feel single." He chuckles into your ear.

"H-How do you plan on going that, Eddie?" You stutter through quickening breaths. Eddie is so close to you, you can barely keep him in focus.

"By fucking your pretty little brains out." His voice comes out in a low growl, sending chills down your spine to the heat building between your legs.

"Slow down, honey." You quip, backing him up and shoving him onto the couch. He stares up at you expectantly, an awe-struck look plastered across his face as he awaits your next move. You keep eye contact with him as you pull your hair back into a messy bun, kneeling between Eddie's legs.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie's voice is nothing less than a desperate huff of breath while he watches your hands slide up his inner thighs to his belt. You focus intently on the handcuff-shaped buckle, unfastening his pants and pulling back his boxers.

Your eyes widen as his erection springs past the elastic of his underwear. Losing all self-control, you grab his length and take him as far as possible down your throat.

"Holy shit," he grabs a fist full of your hair. "Just like that." He throws his head back, moaning into the emptiness of the trailer. You quicken your pace, earning louder moans and involuntary hip bucking.

Eddie pulls your mouth off his cock, tossing you onto the couch, effectively trading your places. He begins eagerly grabbing at your shirt and the button on your pants, but you stop him. You place your hands on his and hold them still, contemplating.

"I mean, we don't have to do this. I don't want to keep you from doing what you were doing, but if we're doing anything, we might as well just fuck." Eddie's words fill you with the most confusing feelings, but most of all, lust. He's right, Billy's at Natalia's most definitely cheating on you, you'll probably be done with him after this anyways. Might as well fuck your best friend.

You wrap your fingers around the collar of his jean vest and pull his lips into yours. He instantly kisses back, nipping lightly at your bottom lip with his teeth. Each gentle bite is closely followed by sweet, breathy moans from your chest. Eddie melts more and more with each high-pitched sound.

Eddie continues undressing you, audibly aroused more and more as you become exposed completely. He bites his fist watching you slide your delicate hand down to play with yourself for him.

"Somebody's needy," he chuckles, watching you intently. You circle your middle finger around your clit a few times before plunging your finger deep inside you. You and Eddie moan at nearly the same time.

"Don't make me wait all night, Eddie." Your low, sultry voice forces his hand onto his cock. He strokes himself, eyeballing the way your hands move to pleasure yourself.

"I think you'll be okay, sweetheart. Keep going." He towers over you, his rough voice cascading down to you like boulders down a hill. You do as he says, continuing to touch yourself while he does the same. You start fingering yourself faster, gasping lightly as your orgasm approaches.

Suddenly, your arm is yanked away.

"No!" You cry, replacing the hand with your other one only for it to be yanked away too. He pins both of your wrists above your head, positioning himself at your entrance. Your orgasm is quickly dissipating with nothing to rub against your aching clit.

"Just... Wait... A little... More..." Eddie hovers over you, one hand holding your wrists, the other sliding the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds. You writhe and squirm, desperate for contact, begging him to fuck you already. "Okay," he smiles deviously before slamming into you, hard.

"Eddie!" You moan as he glides in and out of you, low growls rumbling from his lips. His guitar pick necklace dangles in your face, brushing against the tip of your nose with each impaling thrust.

"You're so God damn tight, Y/N." His words are broken up by small grunts as he fucks you. "It's fucking unbelievable" You can't help but smile at his praise, happily taking all of him despite the dull pain of being stretched out so abruptly.

"I never thought I'd be hearing you say that to me, Eddie. Gotta be frank." You joke, still getting dicked into oblivion.

"I did," he winks, picking up his pace. Your moans get louder and louder, the pit in your stomach doubling by the second. Sweat clings to the curls around his face, securely gluing them to his jawline. Still fucking you, he rises up straight and sheds his jacket/vest before nearly tearing the shirt off his body.

He returns to his position over you, never breaking his stride. Sweat glistens down his body as his back curves and arches as he slams into you. Your breath begins to hitch in your chest from your orgasm building up.

"Eddie, I-I'm gonna-" he cuts you off with a hard kiss. He throws your legs over his shoulders, hungrily grabbing at your thighs as he fucks you over the edge. You arch your back as the waves of pleasure shoot through your core. You drench Eddie's pelvis in the evidence of your arousal, but he doesn't stop fucking you.

Instead, he flips you onto your stomach. He grips the hair on the back of your head and pulls roughly to get you to assume an all-fours position. You follow his silent directions and he slips himself back in your fucked out hole.

"Fuuuuuck," he sighs as he slides into you. "So fucking good." He mewls out above you, fucking harder and deeper into your pussy with each thrust. You try to protest, tell him it's too much, but he buries your face in the cushion and continues chasing his high.

"Eddieeee!" You scream, suddenly cumming yet again.

"Shut up, just a little more." He huffs angrily, stone focused on the way your back flexes as you fight to hold yourself up. You're a weak, fucked out mess by now, still taking his hard cock. High-pitched whines and cries leak past your lips as he continues, very suddenly picking up his speed at the last second.

"Oh my God, Eddie please!" You cry into the cushion. He thrusts a few times more before pulling out and finishing all over your round ass. Your legs finally collapse and you're laying face down, hair a mess, covered in sweat and cum that isn't your boyfriend's.

"Holy shit," Eddie fights to catch his breath.

"Have fun?" That's all you can say through your dicked down haze.

"Yeah," he sighs. "A lot better than I ever imagined it." He chuckles.

"How many times have you imagined it?" You raise, quizzically.

"Lots and lots of times, Y/N." He shines his famous downturned smile and winks. You feel the blood rise quickly in your cheeks.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.