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annonymouslyblonde · 3 years

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The Monster Was Mortal

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Pairing: Percy x Annabeth

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

Trigger warning: Descriptions of child abuse

Rating: T for language and description of child abuse

Summary: Set about two months after TLO. Instead of going back to camp or California for a long holiday weekend, Annabeth stays at the Jackson/Blofish apartment and ends up learning something new about Percy.

A scream filled the small apartment, waking Annabeth at a quarter till three in the morning. It was a scream that she knew well and still sent her heart plummeting to her toes. Percy. She snatched her knife from the bedside table, prepared to single-handedly take down whatever monster was tormenting him. The door hit the wall with a thud as Annabeth dropped into a fighting stance. But there was nothing there for her to slash at. In the dark, it took a moment for her to see Percy huddled in the corner of his room. With no monster to fight, she sheathed the dagger setting it on his desk.

"Percy," she asked, frightened by the way he stared straight through her. She dropped to her knees in front of him and tried to take grab his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" He shouted and pushed her hand away, curling further into his corner. "Don't hurt me."

Annabeth recoiled, hurt and scared. Why would he think she'd hurt him? She was at a loss for what to do. Sally quietly came into the room having also been woken up with the screaming. Waking up to her son's nightmares was unfortunately not a new occurrence. Annabeth slid back to sit against his bed giving Sally space. Numb, she watched the woman gently cradle Percy's face turning his gaze toward her. The vacant look in his eyes made Annabeth queasy.

“Sweetheart,” Sally gently called as if she were speaking to a cornered animal. “You're okay. He isn't here anymore. He's gone and he'll never hurt you again. We won't hurt you okay? Annabeth isn't going to hurt you.”

“Annabeth?” he asked finally seeing her clearly. She sank to her knees beside Sally and reached a hand out hoping he didn't smack it away this time. He clutched her to him, shaking and crying.

Annabeth thought it must have been a quest vision, a bad one, but Sally knew the differences in her son's nightmares. After a light kiss to the top of his head, she stepped out of the room knowing the conversation the pair needed to have. Percy told her weeks ago of his intention to tell Annabeth about Gabe one day, but the relationship was still new despite all the things they had faced together, despite knowing each other for four years. He was still a little afraid and embarrassed by what happened to him no matter how many times Sally assured him it wasn't his fault. It broke her heart her baby had to do this at all.

His sobs slowed to sniffles against her shoulder. Realizing he must have woken up half the building, his cheeks flushed.

“I'm sorry I woke you up,” he mumbled, trying to pull away. Her fingers laced through his dark hair in a soothing gesture, keeping him close to her.

“No, Percy, you don't have to apologize. But why did you think I'd hurt you?” She tried to keep her voice even, but the pain and desperation still seeped in. “I would never hurt you, not on purpose. You know that right?”

Percy of course did know that. There were plenty of bruises and scrapes from sparing practice, but neither would ever intentionally inflict pain on the other. His grip tightened around the fabric of her shirt, painfully aware there would be no walking this back.

“It wasn't you I thought would hurt me.” Silence permeated the space as the couple clung to each other. After another calming breath, he admitted “I thought Gabe was still here.”

“Gabe? Smelly Gabe?” she asked not understanding why Percy would have a nightmare about him. He nodded mutely against her collar.

Suddenly, Annabeth realized she didn't know much about his former stepfather. She knew the nickname Smelly Gabe and that he was no longer in the picture, but nothing more. Her mind was turning, processing the information that Percy was afraid, deathly afraid of this man.

“You thought that Gabe was here and gonna hurt you.” It came out as a statement instead of a question. The pieces all clicked together in Annabeth's mind. Her sweet, kind, wonderful Percy had been abused as a child.

“He used to hit me.” He confirmed needing to finally tell someone. For years, he tried masking the trauma through sarcasm and jokes. Letting Annabeth see this side would be a big step, one he didn't know how she'd react to. The carefully crafted persona he had hidden behind for years would never fit again around her.

“A lot,” he continued. “If something didn't go his way it was my fault somehow. He lost his poker game or get fired from a job. So he'd take his anger out on me. With his fists or a belt. Sometimes beer bottles.”

Annabeth's vision blurred into swirls of red. Blood red. Gabe's vile red blood spilled for even touching her boyfriend. She had heard of the metaphor of seeing red but had never experienced that type of all-consuming rage before. Her whole body tensed looking for the threat, ready to cut it down. Instead, she clutched Percy closer assuring herself that he was safe in her arms. She would make sure he was safe.

“My nightmare was about him. He came back and had me down on the ground kicking me. And suddenly it was like I was six again and couldn't do anything but try and protect my head.”

Bile rose in her throat as she clinched the back of his shirt trying to control her rage. Six. Percy remembered being kicked by a full-grown man at six years old. Annabeth had faced a lot of monsters in her sixteen years, but nothing as vile as this despicable mortal. If he was willing to kick a six-year-old, she couldn't bear to speculate what he may have done to Percy as he got older and more willful. She wasn't sure if mortals could end up in Tartarus, but she prayed to Hades this one did.

“It's kinda funny,” he laughed slightly manic against her neck. Annabeth couldn't see anything funny relating to this situation, but she didn't interrupt choosing instead to place an encouraging kiss on his temple. “I can't even remember which monsters gave me what scars, but I remember every mark Gabe ever gave me.”

She wanted to scream and lash out at whoever let this happen to him but instead decided to redirect the anger into comfort. Subconsciously, her fingers found a scar that ran the length of his bicep, gently tracing the puckered skin.

“Monster,” he murmured, and she knew this would be how she could get him to open up and tell her the details.

“He's a monster too,” she insisted. The beast of a man was more monster than the ones they fought with celestial bronze in her opinion. Monsters were born to hunt and kill demigods. This man chose violence and pain.

“Fine, Greek,” he conceded too tired to argue, especially not when he agreed.

She nodded approving of the term. Her fingers drifted down to a cluster of small circular marks on his forearm. The muscle stiffened under her touch, but he told her how the scars came to be.

“Cigarette,” he said, confirming her suspicions. “I didn't dump his ashtray the night before so he said I'd be his new ash tray.”

“How old were you?” As soon as she asked, Annabeth wished she hadn't. It didn't matter how old he was. Putting a lit cigarette out on someone of any age was horrendous.

“Four,” he whispered, burying his face into her shoulder. She very well almost stopped there unsure if she was strong enough to hear this. But then Percy shuddered and fisted the fabric at her back. He needed her then, and she wouldn't back down. He needed to unburden himself, and he was choosing to confide in her. So she continued, her fingers dancing across his skin until she came to a scar. They spent an hour like that until all the visible scars were cataloged.

Her hand trailed timidly down to the hem of his shirt. She had seen scars on his back and chest before at camp, chalking it up to monster attacks, but now she questioned everything she knew. When he gave her the smallest nod pressing his head down into her shoulder, she slid her hands under his shirt. At first, she simply pressed her palms to his Achilles heel hoping to lend some strength and comfort. After a long moment, his grip on her shirt lessened, and she continued her search across his back.

As he opened up at each gentle touch, the flood gate widened, rushing to purge his soul of the poison he had bottled up for years. Just as she thought there wasn't room for any more scars, he guided her hand back to a set of slash marks across his ribs that she had missed, where the broken edges of a beer bottle had cut into the skin.

Once the last scar was accounted for, they continued sitting on the floor of his room wrapped in each other's embrace. Her hands lay clasped at the small of his back as he continued telling her about the abuse, about the incidents that didn't leave a visible mark on him. He told her about the time Gabe knocked him unconscious after tossing him too hard into a wall. And the time the man broke his nose by throwing a book Percy had left on the kitchen table before a poker night. The words flowed from his lips like a spring rushing to leave as quickly as possible. Stories he had long forgotten came to the surface, ones he hadn't even told his mom about. The way her fingers gently kneaded into his lower back and the frequent kisses she pressed into his hair comforted him in a way he hadn't felt before. Once he finished telling her about what he knew Gabe would do to him for wrecking his car, Percy didn't quite know what else to say.

“Annabeth,” he asked, quiet and meek. The brokenness of his voice pierced her heart. “Please. Say something,” he begged.

“I'm gonna murder him,” Annabeth confessed with the confidence of a girl who had stared down Titans and won. “I'm gonna kill him for ever laying a hand on you.”

“You aren't ashamed of me? Hero of Olympus and I let some mortal bast-”

Her lips fell on his silencing him. He clutched her to him, kissing her with a desperation he hadn't felt since Silena had called telling him to bring a healer for her during the Titan War. His hand gripped her pulling her tightly against him and pressing into her own lower back, the same spot as his Achilles heel. The warmth of his hand against her exposed skin was the most comforting gesture she'd ever experienced making her wonder if that was the feeling she gave him every time her hand touched his back. Slowly, she backed out of the kiss stroking his cheek, her intense gaze penetrating his soul.

“You didn’t let him do anything. You were a kid, Percy. He was an adult, a parent figure in your life, someone you should have been able to trust and feel safe with. And, gods, you were just a kid. My stepmother never liked me, but I never felt unsafe with her. I can't even imagine.”

She pulled Percy back to her, clinging to him. Someone had hurt her precious seaweed brain when he was defenseless, and it made her sick that she hadn't been able to protect him. Anger couldn't quite cover the feeling boiling in her blood. Nine years of combat training and she wanted nothing more than to use every bit of it on this scum.

“I know you have questions,” he sighed reluctantly pulling away to look at her. Her face was flushed from anger, and tears swelled in her eyes. He hated being the one to put that look of mixed concern and anger on her beautiful face. “It's okay. I owe you answers.”

For once, and she would never admit it aloud, Annabeth wasn't sure she wanted answers. Her mouth worked up and down, searching for questions that wouldn't come.

“You don't owe me anything. You don't have to say anything you don't want to.”

“I want to,” he assured her, taking her hands in his. “I mean, I want you to ask whatever you want to know.”

“Why did you never tell me?” she whispered, asking the question that hurt the most. It wasn't that she thought he owed her anything, but after opening up to him, to only him, about her own family life, it stung to think he hadn't trusted her with this. As soon as she thought it, she swallowed the idea guiltily. It was selfish to think she was entitled to know that part of him just because she had opened up to him about her own trauma. She did think now, however, he would have been comfortable enough with her to tell her.

“How do you even start a conversation like that? 'Hey Annabeth, it's been a month since I survived my death date, wanna hear about my bastard ex-stepfather that used to beat the shit out of me? I think it's a good second date conversation.' Doesn't exactly pair well with dinner and movie, does it?”

“Percy-”

“I know,” he sighed wearily giving her hands an apologetic squeeze. “I know. I should have- I just. I never knew how. I almost told you in the zoo truck but then we stopped by the time I got the courage. And when I got back again, well he was gone. It was over. I wasn't trying to keep it from you, I swear. It just never came up until now.”

Another thought, a worry, suddenly made her stomach drop. She dropped one of his hands to traced his cheek.

“When I've punched you or teased, I wasn't. I mean I hope I didn't-”

“Annabeth I know you were just messing with me. I never took it as anything but that, promise. So don't you dare stop calling me Seaweed Brain now, Wise Girl.” He gave her a smile that melted her worries. Of course, he would be trying to make her feel better in a time like this.

“Well, in that case, Seaweed brain, we should probably get off the floor,” she suggested.

Until she mentioned it, Percy hadn't registered they had been sitting on the floor of his room the entire time. Somehow, it felt like an appropriate place for the early morning confession, oddly intimate and undisturbed. But, his back didn't necessarily agree, stiff from sitting cross-legged on the floor for however long had passed. And if he was stiff even in his invincible skin, he knew it must be worse for Annabeth.

She slowly pushed herself up before offering a hand to him pulling him up with her. After urging him into his bed, she crawled in beside him and pulled him back into her arms, not quite ready to let go. Her fingers raked through his smooth locks almost habitually. It truly amazed her how easily things came with Percy. The repetitive motion satisfied her ADHD enough to let her mind kick into overdrive and process the last few hours.

Percy had been through more than she could even imagine, more than ever should have been asked of him. Being the key component in a Titan war couldn't be enough for the Fates. Suffering through four years of non-stop quests wasn't bad enough. Her sweet, caring boyfriend had to go through such a harsh mortal childhood to add to the already crushing pressures of being a demigod. Suddenly, her fingers stilled as another question came unbarring to mind. He called her name, nervous at how suddenly she tensed.

The girl spared a nervous glance to the hall before asking, “Did your mom know?”

“I think she suspected a time or two, but I never told her. Gabe said he'd kill her if I ever told anyone. I wasn't taking that chance.”

“I don't understand why she would let him stay if she even thought he might be hurting you,” she murmured, glancing nervously again toward the door.

Nothing about it made sense. Annabeth loved Sally, even wishing to have her as a mother or stepmother instead, and she knew the woman adored her son. Allowing Gabe to stay when he was hurting her son was something Annabeth couldn't rationalize with the Sally that made cookies whenever she came by and fussed over them both after every quest.

“She was protecting me from monsters,” Percy quietly explained. “Gabe, his smell-”

“Repelled monsters. It hid your scent,” she finished for him. “I've read about that. Some mortals are so monstrous themselves, their scent can actually repel monsters. That's how you stayed hidden for so long even as a big three kid.” The confused anger morphed into marvel at Sally's brilliance, protecting her son how she could. Even as terrible as it was, the abuse was likely the only thing that kept Percy alive all those years.

“He would hit her too,” he said in defense of his mom. “Broke her wrist once that I know of not that she'd tell me it was him. I only know of a few times, but I'm sure she got it worse since she had to always be here with him. I tried to get him to stop, but there wasn't much I could do when I was at boarding school. And once I knew I was a half-blood, knew how to defend myself. Well, she turned him into stone. Remember Medusa's head? Dad apparently returned to sender. ”

Suddenly Annabeth had a deeper appreciation for her boyfriend's mother. She always knew the woman was strong, but this was a different level of strength. Annabeth hoped one day to be half the woman Sally Jackson was.

As his breathing evened out, she pressed a kiss to his head and tried to detangled herself to go back to bed. As she slid her legs over the side of the bed, his arms wrapped around her painfully tight pulling her back.

“Stay with me” he whispered timidly. She hesitated though.

“Percy that was your mom's only rule for me,” she protested, but the sad, broken look undid her completely. And it would be well worth the lecture just for that bright smile he flashed her when she told him to move over. His head nestled into the hollow of her shoulder as she continued stroking his dark hair. He was asleep in no time with his arms wrapped around Annabeth securing him to this better time.

And when Sally found Annabeth curled protectively around her son the next morning, she didn't have the heart to scold them at breakfast for breaking her single house rule. After the events of the previous night, she was glad Percy had found someone so fiercely protective as his girlfriend. She didn't have to worry about her baby boy when Annabeth had his back.

Now, of course, that didn't stop Sally from teasing the pair when they emerged from his room later that morning holding hands.

A/N: So this story has two pieces of art that helped inspire parts of it, one by WindByFire and the other by burgy so shout out to them for producing such amazing art!

If you'd like to see the pieces, they are posted on my IG by the same username (mainly because I am new on tumblr and don't know how to properly post and credit art here yet). Definitely go check out all of their artwork!

#percy x annabeth #percy jackson #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #percabeth #percabeth fluff #pjo fanfic #pjo fandom #pjo stuff #writing #fanfic

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 5

(Y/n)'s POV

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed and spoon-fed something that tasted like (Favorite/Food), only it's like pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

She looks around, as is afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I slur, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake up, the girl is gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except they are nicer than I am used to. I am sitting in a deck chair next to Percy - who was looking at me with concern - on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschino cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against the porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradles a shoebox. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops, and a bright orange t-shirt that says CAMP HALF-BLOOD.

"You two saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he places the shoebox in Percy's lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. My mother was gone.

"The Minotaur," Percy asks.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea -" Grover gets cut off.

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demands. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You two have been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"Mom," I say softly. "Is she really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There is a grove of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother is gone . . .

Nothing should look beautiful. The whole world should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffs. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst satyr in the world." He groans, stomping his food so hard it comes off. I mean, the Converse hi-top comes off. The inside is filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

Mom had really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Percy and I are alone. Orphans. We would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. I'd live on the streets first.

Grover is still sniffling.

Percy says, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did our mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." Percy begins and I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says. "Here."

He helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I recoil at the taste because I was expecting apple juice. It isn't that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. But not just any cookies - Mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body feels warm and good, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if Mom had just brushed her hand lovingly against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was upset and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?"

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply and Percy looks at me knowingly. "Mom's. Homemade."

He takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.

3rd Person POV

The porch wraps all the way around the farmhouse.

Percy's legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far, and (Y/n), though her legs feel like Jello, had moved to support her brother. Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but Percy holds onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I'm not going to let it go.

As the trio comes around the opposite end of the house, (Y/n) catches her breath.

Percy's POV

We must be on the north shore of Long Island because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply can't process everything I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all look brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs play volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I'm hallucinating, some of their horses have wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoonfed (Y/n) is leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it's almost poker. He looks like those painting of baby angles - cherubs. He looks like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He is wearing a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could out-gamble even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me and (Y/n). "He's the camp director. Be polite. That girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . . "

He points at the guy whose back is to me.

First, I realize he's sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognize the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cry.

The Latin teacher turns and smiles at me, then looks curiously at (Y/n), who is still supporting some of my weight. His eyes have that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulls a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he says. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me, then (Y/n), who is leaning against my chair, with bloodshot eyes, and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to the glad to see you."

"Percy, why don't you introduce me?" Mr. Burnner says, sending a soft smile towards (Y/n).

"Oh, this is my twin sister, (Y/n)," Percy says.

(Y/n)'s POV

I smile and wave shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say. "Percy's told me a lot about you. Even said you were his favorite teacher."

A warmer smile spreads across Mr. Brunner's face and then he turns. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

She comes forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, (Y/n). Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and (Y/n)'s bunks? We'll be putting them in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth replies.

She's probably about my age, maybe an inch or two taller, and a whole more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she is almost exactly when I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruin the image. They are startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she's analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glances down at the Minotaur horn in Percy's hands then looks back up at me. She says, "You drool when you sleep." My cheeks take on a slight red tinge as she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," Percy says, looking anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," not Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy says, looking totally confused, then looking at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cars. He looks at Percy like he'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron - Brunner breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive, and the chance to meet your sister. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" I ask, interested.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed he was something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to...ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asks.

Chiron nods. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood, and then we learned of Miss (Y/n), here." He nods to me. "But you still had so much to learn, Percy. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

Percy's POV

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyes me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I answer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he corrects.

"Sir," I repeat, liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he tells me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules"

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron says.

"Please," I plead, "what is this place? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun— Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorts. "I asked the same question."

The camp director deals the cards; Grover flinches every time one lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," Chiron prompts. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said . . ." (Y/n) begins and I remember her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told us she was afraid to send us here, even though our father had wanted her to. She said that once we were here, we probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep us close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask.

He explains, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient.

"Orientation film?" (Y/n) asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Chiron decides. "Well, Percy, (Y/n). You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know -" he points to the horn in the shoebox - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that the great powers are at work. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I stare at the others around the table.

I wait for somebody to yell, Not! but all I get is Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackles as he tallies up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asks timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bites a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chews it.

"Wait," I tell Chiron as (Y/n) sits down on the edge of my chair. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron says. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.

"Zeus," I say. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," says Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."

"But they're stories," I say. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoff. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinch when he says my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continues. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Percy," Chiron says, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," (Y/n) says.

"Exactly," Chiron agrees. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their mothers."

My heart pounds. He's trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I say, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmurs. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover pleads, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbles, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waves his hand and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet fills itself with red wine.

"You're Dionysus," (Y/n) says and Mr. D looks at her. "The god of wine."

Mr. D nods then stares at me as I say, "You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turns to look at me straight on, and I see a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man is only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I see visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turn to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I know that if I push him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he says quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire dies a little; he turns back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron says. He sets down a straight, tallies the points, and says, "The game goes to me."

I think Mr. D is going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighs through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He gets up, and Grover rises, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D says. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beads with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I ask Chiron.

Chiron nods, though he looks a little troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I say. "You're telling me there is really a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"The what?"

"Western civilization?" (Y/n) guesses and Chiron nods for her to continue. "It started in Greece, then spread to Rome, right?"

"That's correct, Miss (Y/n)," Chiron says.

"And then they died?" I ask, looking between my Latin teacher and my sister.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either —America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Who . . . who am I? Who . . . who are we?"

Chiron smiles. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I know that was impossible. He's paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he does rise from his wheelchair. But there's something odd about the way he did it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I think he's was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"You're a centaur!" (Y/n) says in awe, and Chiron's eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods.

"What a relief," the centaur says. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 3702 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #fem reader #female reader #reader insert

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sunfoxfic · 3 years

Note

This is probably out of nowhere but I absolutely bate it when fanworks and aus just invalidate Adrien being abused by gabriel. Like I think canon does a pretty good job of showing that and these fix-it aus just, have him be this snarky guy who doesn't even hesitate to suspect Gabe is HawkMoth is just....Idk. Makes me uncomfortable. It's such a huge disservice to his character. I relate so much to Adrien's response to his abuse in canon, especially because his type of response is rarely shown in shows and media in general. And what makes me evn more uncomfortable is that people are hailing these "fixing canon" AUs to be "waay better written". Like, I get that the writing in canon can be wonky, but...yeah. Makes me super uncomfortable. Sorry if this seems to be poorly worded, I don't really know how to put it correctly-

I understand exactly where you're coming from. And on one hand, I think that Adrien is one of the few characters in a show quite like this that has a really strong foundation for fanwriters to look at children of abuse and deconstruct what abuse looks like and how it impacts people. In that way, it doesn't bother me when people change the circumstances of the abuse, or change his response to it -- healthy projection onto a fictional character can be really important for some people.

But I made a post about what I think you're talking about the other week, which you can find here. And I do think there's a lot of writers who want to write about the abuse that Adrien went through, but don't want to take the time and deconstruct how that abuse actually impacts him. They want Adrien to be angry at Gabriel, because that's what he should be, nevermind that anger can be really hard to achieve for kids in abusive situations.

Adrien doesn't even realize that his father is abusive, and he consistently finds it difficult to demonstrate anger even to people who he knows are bad -- look at how he reacted in Chat Blanc.

And there's a lot of salty takes over Adrien and how he reacts and whether that's good or not. I think sometimes people confuse unhealthy coping mechanisms that hurt other people with malice. Yeah, Adrien has staked a lot on Ladybug to the point of hurting her for it, but he doesn't really have alternatives, especially when you're looking at how he's become isolated from his peers in S4 -- Kagami broke up with him, Chloe really didn't give him much choice in being her friend unless he wanted to lose everyone else, he believes that Nino finds him annoying -- so like. Who is he supposed to go to? His father? His mother? No. Ladybug is really his only option in someone who will listen and care and be there no matter what. And that's adversely affected her, because it's an unhealthy coping mechanism, but that's not his fault.

I know where you're coming from, anon. Lots of hugs. Just avoid fics that have the type of takes you're talking about, and enjoy the show if you can't find anything like what you're looking for. It'll be okay <3

#asks answered #anonymous #tw abuse #abuse tw

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 24

Warnings: Brief mention of self harm, Panic attacks, etc.

Also (F/C/T) is: Your favorite cookie type

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner, @egg-boy03, @helena-way07, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @serendipity-imagines, @kaelyn-lobrutto24, @thatsonezesty13,

~~~~~~~~~~~

Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. - Edgar Allan Poe

You bite your lip anxiously as you slowly pull away from Spencer’s now much more soaked cardigan. You sigh and attempt to wipe the spot down with your hand. "I'm sorry…" you said in a small voice. Spencer gently took your hands in his own and made you look into his eyes.

"How can you be sorry for something you couldn't control? It's alright by me, (Y/N). Do you need someone to go in with you?" Spencer asked, his hands wanting desperately to hold you and to keep you ever so close to his chest so that you never had to fear for your safety. Because in his arms he could protect you. He could be the safe haven you needed to get back on your feet. And he would happily do so.

You sniffled and pushed a strand on your hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear. You shook your head, gulping nervously before attempting to speak again.

"N-no… Hotch wanted me to meet him in his office. I-I should be okay. Hotch… he wouldn't hurt me." You assure, although your voice betrayed your real feelings. You were nervous you were going to lose your probationary agent status and be downgraded to a desk-work agent. You were so close to the team now. You had already been working on fine-tuning your resume to turn in when Peter attacked you.

Spencer sighed and squeezed your hand. "Okay. But just know I'll be here when you come out. I only have a few more reports to do. And each of them only require about a normal printer paper's worth of documentation to complete. Suffice to say you don't need to worry."

You gave Spencer the best smile you could muster, which ended up only being a weak small one, before you turned your attention towards the small set of stairs. You then walked up to Hotch's office, the pounding of your heart and the rushing blood roaring in your ears.

The carpet muffled the slight clop of your heels, quieting the pounding in your head just a smidge. You could see him in his office. He was business as usual, as always. You could feel your lungs collapse and refill as you took in each breath. You almost felt trapped inside your body. All around you you could only see blurry pictures of what was real. And you then began to see clearly what wasn't. Piercing, evil green eyes began to appear on the walls, all staring at you.

Whatever you had carried in your hands was now on the floor, your chest feeling ever so heavy. One by one your senses and functions were turning themselves off. It started with your hearing, and then your sight began to darken around the edges of your vision. By then you could see the partial outline of Spencer’s figure, trying to say something. But you couldn't hear him. The only thing you could hear was the pounding and the roaring of blood and your heart in your ears. It was deafening.

Then you lost your ability to breathe, clutching at your chest as you coughed and wheezed, trying to suck in as much air as you could as your throat closed and swelled. Spencer gripped your arms, and it seemed like Hotch soon after joined him in trying to help you. Then you lost the ability to stand. And you fell face first into Spencer’s arms where he thankfully caught you. But it wasn't long after this that you began to lose consciousness from the lack of air in your lungs and the increasing pounding of your heart.

The last thing you knew you would remember was the semi clearing view of Spencer’s eyes looking into yours, trying to urge you to stay awake.

○●♡●○

You reawaken to Spencer's apartment ceiling, confused as to how you had gotten there. More concerned as to who was there with you. You attempt to move, to make someone aware that you were awake.

"Hey, so Sleeping Beauty actually awakens."

You groan at the sudden realization of who was in the room with you. You sit up slowly, turning your head to see a familiar pair of whiskey colored eyes staring at you from the corner of the room.

"G...Gabriel?"

Gabriel nods and chuckles to himself, advancing closer to you and taking a seat next to you. "Yep. What, were you expecting a stringbean? Prince charming? Cause he's in the other room with Chocolate Thunder."

You widen your eyes for a moment and start to laugh softly from knowing Gabriel knew Garcia's nickname for Morgan. "You know about that?"

Gabriel gives you a raised eyebrow. "What don't I know about you and your new work friends at this point?"

You nod a few times. Fair enough.

"What I also know… is that you are so undeniably in love with that pipe cleaner with eyes in there it ain't funny. And he likes ya back. You know how many times I had to bribe him with my copy of the Hebrew version of the bible to leave you alone in here? He refused to let you go. Like seriously. Confess already. It's kinda sickening." Gabriel teases, nudging your shoulder. You look down at the floor, sniffling and laughing partly.

Gabriel's teasing facade fell and he narrowed his eyebrows. "Kid… seriously. Are you okay? You passed out at work. That's not normal. Not even for me. And that's saying something." Gabriel's eyes widen and he holds up two hands as if saying he was innocent.

You snicker gently, crossing your arms comfortably. "I… I guess? My uh… my Mom stopped by to beat me to a pulp today."

Gabriel's face immediately shifted and redness increased in his face. "Are you serious? That bitch tried something? After what she did to you?! Selling you to fucking Peter?!" Gabriel hissed, his hands tightening at his sides. You flinch at his louder tone, sniffling and wiping your quickly tearing up eyes.

"She's a narcissist, Gabe. S-she only cares about herself and th-the business. T-that she already got money for selling me to him. And it's non-refundable apparently." The dark cloud that had been around your head before your attack quickly was returning. And here you thought you'd finally be able to see sunlight.

Gabriel sighed, his hand flexing against his jeans. "(Y/N)... I'm sorry kid. You don't deserve her. Deserve anything that's happened to you. Once we get her in jail alongside Pe-"

You flinch at the beginning mention of Peter’s name, causing Gabriel to pause his statement and rephrase it. Gabriel sighed and began to speak again. "Once we get them both in jail, you'll be able to focus on yourself. Getting better. I'll even pay for your therapy if you want. It comes with candy I hear." Gabriel smirked, his tone growing playful to try and get a smile out of you.

You do end up smiling gently, nodding wordlessly to your oldest friend. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer to him, letting you hug his torso. "Come 'ere. Let's just calm down for now, eh? Don't want you fainting on me again." Gabriel encouraged, gaining a brief chuckle from you.

You snuggle closer, glad Gabriel understood you enough to know this was what you needed. You rest your head against his chest and listen to his heart's strong pumping.

A few moments of resting later, a pair of footsteps exit the kitchen and make their way towards the living room. You feel a slight twinge of fear build up in your chest, but you quickly feel it exit when you hear his voice enter the room as well.

"How is she?" Spencer asks Gabriel, probably assuming you were still asleep or adjusted while they were in the kitchen.

"Fine, considering what she's been through. Thanks for calling me though, Spencer. I've been tryna get clearance to see her for a few weeks and only just got it. The life of a field agent." Gabriel expressed, getting what you guessed to be a nod and a grunt from Morgan.

"It ain't all fun and games, I can tell you that." He answers, a sigh soon after leaving his lips. You open your eyes slowly and see Morgan clutching his lower thigh where he'd been shot by Peter. You resist your urge to bite your lip, wanting to enjoy a few minutes of just listening before having to interact.

"What happened? Seriously? She didn't go into detail, and I respect that. But how did she end up fainting on her way to the boss's office?" Gabriel questioned, his hand rubbing up and down your arm. He knew you were still awake. It was like he already knew what was going through your head.

"Her…" Spencer sighed, biting his nails for a moment as his eyes traveled over towards your supposedly sleeping form on his couch. "Her mother came in and attacked her. She stood up for herself but in the process I think she showed Hotch how unready she was for work. That's what he said anyway. That Derek and I should stay with her for a few weeks. We'll alternate cases once he goes back so she has someone at home." Spencer began to explain. You were glad you were awake now. Otherwise you doubted you would get as clear and concise of an explanation of what was going to happen if they knew you were awake.

Gabriel gritted his teeth and looked off to the side in annoyance. "Yeah. I know about that. Which pisses me off honestly. How did she even get in? Don't you gotta have an ID to get in? An appointment or something?" He asks, his voice harsher than you'd ever usually heard it.

"Hey, man we ain't in charge of that. That's the front desk. But yeah. Usually you gotta have an ID and or you gotta have an appointment or a meeting with an agent. She probably said she had a meeting with (Y/N) and they let her in." Derek explained, holding his hands up cautiously.

Gabriel let out a sigh and groaned. "Fine fine. But still. It shouldn't be that easy. She should be as safe at that office as she is at home."

Spencer nodded, his eyes closing slowly and staying closed as he sighed heavily. Something was weighing on him. You knew it. Was it you? It wasn't his fault. But then again, did he know that?

You finally gained enough strength to finally face the two of your closest friends and began to open your eyes again, gently moving yourself away from Gabriel's chest.

Spencer was the first to notice, his face immediately lighting up when he saw your open eyes. "(Y/N/N)..." he breathed, a smile pulling onto his face. Gabriel stifled a chuckle, rubbing your arm before giving you a reassuring look. You nodded to him, and he then stood up. He nudged at Morgan’s shoulder and winked at him.

"Let's give 'em a few minutes, Brown Sugar. See? I can do nicknames too." He teases before he gestures for Morgan to follow him into the other room. Morgan laughed and winked back at him, following him into the kitchen.

You look up at Spencer, gesturing to the seat beside you. He takes the spot as soon as you assure him that he was welcome. He was so cautious, wanting to make you as comfortable as you could be. You couldn't think of anyone else so attentive.

"Spencer-"

"(Y/N)-"

You snicker softly, hearing a laugh echo from Spencer. For the first time in what felt like years you felt the foreign feeling of your heart skipping a beat. His laughter was like a blessing for you. And you were glad to have it.

"You first." Spencer spoke up again after a moment. You sighed and rubbed your neck.

"Spencer… I'm sorry. I… I didn't know I was going to faint or-or have a panic attack-" the increasing need to explain yourself filled up your chest. You didn't look him in the eyes, ashamed of not having been able to control how you acted.

But then he gently took your hands in his. Well, your wrists mostly. He was still wary of germs. "(Y/N/N)... Have I been known to lie to you?"

You took a few deep breaths as you blinked at his question. "N-no… no you've always told the truth. That I know of."

Spencer nodded. "Then should you determine that what I said to you when you apologized for wetting my cardigan, a lie?"

You swallow nervously and sigh, shaking your head as you picked at your nails. You felt guilty. But that didn't mean what Spencer was saying didn't help.

Spencer sighed. "You should not have to apologize for things you cannot control. It would be like asking me to apologize for having the IQ I do." Or for loving you, which would be a crime to apologize for. Spencer thought silently.

Spencer’s hand raised up to your shoulder and rested there, pulling you closer to him. You both stayed quiet for a few moments, just listening to the other breathe.

"You were awake when I talked with Gabriel, weren't you?" He asked after a few moments of silence. You bit your lip and exhaled tiredly. Your upper eyelids began to fall, proving your exhaustion. It was an exhaustion you hadn't felt since you were rescued from the clutches of your captor that shouldn't be named.

"Y-yeah… I was just… I wasn't ready to really be awake yet." You explained. "I'm so-"

Spencer shook his head. "Please, don't apologize for taking the time you needed." You didn't finish your statement, just letting yourself rest against him this time.

"Okay…" you whispered, unsure of what else to say. Your tongue felt baren of words, unable to comprehend a combination that would effectively continue the conversation that you didn't second guess yourself on.

"It's okay to have listened, (Y/N). I was just making sure you knew what Hotch said about you going back to work. You and Morgan have some time off that Hotch has given you both. He wants you to take the time to recover. If I'm totally honest, I do too." Spencer expressed, gently rubbing your arm as you laid against his chest.

"But… I don't know what to even do with my time, Spencer. I'd bore myself." You look down at your fingers, groaning at the idea of being alone and unable to distract yourself from your self-destructive thoughts. You were glad you wouldn't be alone. Then maybe you'd be able to stave off of going back to self harm.

"That's why Morgan will be here. For a little while. Then when he's able to go back in the field we'll alternate cases. So that you won't have to be alone, (Y/N)." Spencer assured you. "I'm sure I can help occupy your day with books." "O-or whatever you want to do." Spencer quickly adds, blushing softly.

You smiled softly at his attempt to make you feel better. "Promise you'll read me Edgar Allen Poe and we have a deal." You attempt to tease. Spencer smiles at you and nods, hugging you closer. Seeing you cheering up was the best thing to happen to him in that entire half of the day since lunch break. You were safe in his arms. You were warm, protected, and that was all he could ask for.

"Quoth the raven." Spencer answered, causing you to snicker. You curl up next to him, letting yourself ease breaths in and out. He was warm, and his heartbeat rhythmic. Forget any sort of music playlist. You could fall asleep listening just to his heartbeat and be off to dreamland in a matter of minutes. The warmth alone was comforting. Like a gigantic comforter that wrapped around you securely.

"Spence… I…" you began, feeling an urgency full your chest. Were you really going to tell him? Tell him now how you felt? Would he feel the same? Gabriel could be wrong. Yet again, he was wrong about a lot of things. But were they ever this serious?

Spencer adjusted his position so you could look him in the eyes. "Hm?" He answered, giving you the most adorable look you'd ever seen. Yeah. You were. While you still had this bit of confidence and urgency in your chest. Butterflies burst into your stomach, making you worry for a stutter. You wait a few moments to collect your bearings, before attempting what would be impossible with your normal level of confidence.

"I… I lo-"

"Heya you two! Butterscotch and I just made cookies in here. You want one? They're your favorite, (Y/N)." Gabriel called from the kitchen. You jumped at the sudden additional voice, before sighing mournfully.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks.

You exhale half annoyedly and nod. "Yeah… he just scared me."

Spencer nodded and rubbed your back for a moment. "So… what were you going to say?" He asked, begging and hoping his cheeks weren't as red as they were warm.

You look up into Spencer’s warm hazel eyes, but feel that last trickle of confidence slip away. You sigh and shake your head. "I… I uh… I wanted to ask if you'd want to have a movie marathon tonight. Just… as a distraction."

Spencer blinked a few times before he nodded. "Yeah, totally. As long as Star Trek is in there somewhere."

You giggle softly and chuckle. "Sure, fanboy."

You stand up gently before beginning to head to the kitchen. Curse Gabriel and his want to share. You would already be kissing Spencer’s face off at this very moment if he'd waited a few more minutes before announcing he'd made cookies. But then again, (F/C/T) cookies sounded pretty good too.

Back to the drawing board, with a few extra post-it notes of anxieties and PTSD. You'd get there. Somehow.

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knuffled · 4 years

Text

just practice - chapter nine

hope you enjoy this chapter! it was supposed to be fluffy i swear, but then i started writing it and almost made myself cry. funny how that happens. if you enjoyed the chapter, it would mean a lot to me if you took the time to reblog! thank you for your support!

here’s the ao3 link!

Sunday afternoons were Annabeth’s favorite time of day. Time seemed to move slower than normal, like motes of dust waltzing in a beam of sunlight, with a lazy warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. There was a hazy, dreamlike quality to them that made the world a little softer. She liked to have Sunday’s to herself for the most part. Her Fridays were usually swallowed by cross country practice after school and Saturdays were spent with her friends usually, so Sunday was often the only day she could ever sleep in or laze around in general.

However, she found herself parked outside Percy’s house today instead, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. It wasn’t long before the front door opened, and Percy walked down his driveway towards her car and stifled a yawn and ruffled his hair, which was even messier than usual, like he had just woken up. He knocked on the window lightly, an easy smile on his face, to alert her of his arrival like she hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes staring at his front door.

Annabeth opened the door with a smirk. “Wow, you look like shit. You do realize it’s three in the afternoon right?”

“Fuck off,” Percy said nonchalantly as he buckled his seat belt. “Like you’ve never slept in on a Sunday.”

“I have but I can’t say I’ve ever made it as far as three before,” Annabeth said. “In all honesty, that’s quite an impressive feat.”

“Thank you for recognizing the commitment needed to make this possible.”

“You should audition for the role of Sleeping Beauty. You’d be a natural.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “My my, you’re awfully bitchy today, aren’t you?”

“That’s my secret, Cap,” Annabeth said melodramatically, starting the car. “I’m always bitchy.”

Annabeth couldn’t help smiling when that managed to get a rumbling laugh out of him. Percy turned the radio on and sank back in his seat once he found a station he liked. When he kicked his feet onto the dashboard, Annabeth swatted his shins to tell him to knock it off and pretended not to see him pouting, but the grin stretching across her face threatened to give her away.

Percy stretched in his seat with a scowl and said, “So what’s the special occasion? It’s rare for you to want to hang out on a Sunday.”

“Well, I know this is like two months overdue, but I did promise to take you on a date.”

Annabeth had to hold back a laugh when Percy jolted in his seat and turned to her with wide eyes, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Relax, you’re not dreaming,” she teased.

“I’m just surprised,” Percy said, blushing. “That kind of came out of the blue.”

“Yeah, sorry, I know this is way overdue,” Annabeth said. “I wanted to do this earlier, but I just got wrapped up with all the invitational stuff.”

Percy cleared his throat and shook his head. “Uh, no, you’re totally fine. We both have a lot on our plates these days.”

Annabeth nodded and rolled her bottom lip between her teeth. Although she hadn’t lied, she hadn’t exactly told him the entire truth either. She’d spent the better part of the week thinking about their conversation after the invitational. It was the first time she had come face to face with the realization that Percy wouldn’t always be a part of her life — the prospect of losing him in a year’s time only served to highlight the urgency of the situation, making her realize that she couldn’t afford to squander what little time they had left agonizing over why things had suddenly become stilted between them.

Briefly, she had seriously considered putting an end to the fake dating arrangement altogether. If the time they had left was limited, then eliminating the source of all this new tension made sense, but Annabeth couldn’t help feeling that their current situation could not simply be undone. Although she couldn’t explain why, Annabeth had begun to harbor a nagging suspicion that stopping the whole fake dating thing would only make things even worse between them. It seemed to her that this whole fake dating thing had only revealed that there was something dysfunctional about their relationship, hiding in the woodwork, which meant that ending the arrangement would not address the root cause of the tension between them.

For better or for worse, it seemed that the only way forward was to finish what she had unwittingly started, but she couldn’t just continue to maintain the status quo if she wanted to fix anything between them. If Percy wasn’t going to make the first step, the onus was on her to be more proactive so that they could begin untangling this mess more quickly.

Her train of thought was derailed when Percy cleared his throat again surreptitiously. “So, uh, where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see. We’re almost there,” Annabeth said.

“Wow, were you mimicking me?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth bit the inside of her cheek and said, “Having a taste of your own medicine really sucks, huh?”

Percy crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out. “Fine, be that way, you menace.”

“Dullard.”

“Your honor, my fake-girlfriend is bullying me on our fake-date,” Percy protested.

“Objection, your honor! By Percy’s own admission, I am only mean to people I care about.”

Percy huffed an incredulous laugh and said, “Wow, apparently anything I say or do can and will be held against me in a court of law.”

Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly and tried to repress her growing smile. “It’s your own fault for not invoking your right to remain silent.”

Percy’s shoulders shook from the effort of holding back the laughter bubbling in his throat. “Jesus, I’m getting roasted non-stop today, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m on my A-game today, Jackson,” Annabeth said lightly. “Try and keep up.”

Percy rolled his eyes and said, “When are you ever not on your A-game, Chase?”

Although he had intended for the comment to be sarcastic, there was an undeniably fondness in his voice that made it hard for her to respond. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the road to keep from looking at him. She was afraid the look in her eyes would give away everything couldn’t say. Luckily it wouldn’t be too difficult because she spotted the exit they needed to take not long after, and their destination was only a few minutes from there.

The parking lot they pulled into was in sorry shape. Unkempt tufts of grass crept out of the cracked asphalt and stray pebbles littered the lot that made Annabeth’s car creak and groan. She parked close to a wooden sign at the foot of a trail that led up into a small mountain of sorts. Well, calling it a mountain was probably generous, but it was too large to be called a hill either.

Once they parked, Percy stepped outside to stretch his limbs and watched Annabeth open the trunk of her car to retrieve the stuffed backpack inside.

He raised an eyebrow and said, “Are we going camping or something?”

Annabeth slung the backpack over her shoulders with a grunt and said, “Not exactly. We’re going on a hike.”

Percy looked momentarily confused before he shrugged and said, “Okay, sounds good. Do you want me to take the backpack? It looks heavy.”

“Nah, I got it. It’s better for you to focus on the trail,” Annabeth said, adjusting the straps. “Besides, I promised you I would be the one showing you around this time, remember?”

“Not sure what carrying a backpack has to do with showing me around but go off, I guess.”

Annabeth lightly knocked elbows with him and said, “You handled everything when we went to the aquarium so let me take care of you this time, okay?”

Percy ducked his chin to hide the sheepish smile creeping across his face and rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Okay.”

“Good,” Annabeth said, smiling. “Now let’s get going. It takes like an hour and a half just to get up there.”

With that, they made their way to the start of the dirt trail leading up the mountain-hill. Annabeth set a brisk pace to ensure that they would actually have time to stop a while at the peak before they needed to make the trip back down. It wouldn’t be very safe to hike when it got too dark. Without the sunlight illuminating the trail, it would be a lot easier to trip over a stray root or rock and get hurt.

“Where exactly are we?” Percy asked. “I’m guessing you’ve been here before.”

“We’re on a trail that goes up to Aspen Peak,” Annabeth said, without elaborating.

Percy must have picked up on her reticence because he didn’t pry her with additional questions. Annabeth felt a little bad for suddenly making things awkward between them, but he didn’t seem to mind because it wasn’t long until he spoke again.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been hiking,” he said thoughtfully.

Annabeth looked back at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s news to me.”

“Well, my mom and I never really had much of a chance to do this sort of thing. We couldn’t when Stinky Gabe was around, for obvious reasons, and these days she’s too busy with writing and Estelle to have any spare time,” Percy said.

Annabeth moved a low-hanging branch out of her way. “Well, I’m glad that I brought you today then. I think you’ll really like hiking. It sort of lets you get away from everything for a while.”

“That does sound nice,” Percy admitted. “This sure is giving my calves a good workout though.”

“Let me know if you want to stop and rest,” Annabeth said, laughing. “This trail can be rough if you’re a newbie.”

“Nah, I can keep going,” Percy said, shaking his head.

For a while, they were accompanied only by the sound of loose gravel crunching under their feet. After a while, Annabeth was forced to wipe away the sweat accumulating on her brow with the back of her hand with greater and greater frequency. The weight of the backpack and things inside were partly to blame, but she also hadn’t been on a hike in a long time either so her body wasn’t acclimatized to it. There was also the constant challenge of having to be careful with your footing to avoid slipping on loose gravel or tripping over something buried beneath the dirt not to mention avoiding low-hanging branches. The only positive was that they wouldn’t have to deal with mosquitoes tormenting them since it was the middle of November.

They were close to the peak when Annabeth heard Percy make a noise of surprise behind her. She turned to see him falling backwards after tripping on a root hidden beneath the dirt. Her body moved faster than her mind could keep up, helping her lunge forward in time to loop a hand around Percy’s waist, stopping him mid-fall, and with her free hand held onto the trunk of a tree to keep momentum from making them both fall.

Percy stared up at her, eyes wide, while Annabeth tried to catch her breath and keep her footing. At this proximity, the smell of his cologne intermingled with the faint scent of sweat was inescapable, and something about it made her face grow hot and prickly. The fact that she could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt somehow only made things worse. Annabeth helped him upright quickly to keep from dwelling on it any further, but before she did, she could have sworn Percy’s eyes darted down to her lips for an instant before he met her eyes again.

“You okay?” Annabeth asked, breathing heavily.

Percy swallowed conspicuously, making his Adam’s Apple bob. “Um, yeah. Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Annabeth asked carefully. “Your face is really red.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away to avoid meeting her eyes. “Oh, um, that’s just because I’m really hot right now.”

Annabeth tried to keep her tone light and sarcastic and said, “You sure it wasn’t because I made your heart skip a beat just now?”

A beat passed before an easy smile slid across Percy’s face. “How could it not? You were like a knight in shining armor just now.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” Annabeth said, unconvinced.

Percy nodded in gratitude but didn’t otherwise say anything. Annabeth looked at him for a little bit longer before biting her lip and turning around. The air between them was charged with tension for the remainder of the way up the trail, much to her frustration, but it dissipated once they made their way to the top of Aspen Peak.

Annabeth paused for a moment and took in the familiar scenery while nostalgia washed over her in waves. One of the reasons she loved this trail so much was that there was a small lake nestled at the top of Aspen Peak. At some point in the past, the top of Aspen Peak had broken off, leaving a crater of sorts almost behind where the peak once was. The half-eggshell shape had been perfectly suited for collecting rainfall, which over the span of several centuries had helped form a small lake .

“Holy shit, this is so cool,” Percy muttered.

Annabeth looked at him with a grin and said, “Right?”

“I had no idea there was a lake up here.”

Annabeth shrugged off her backpack and said, “Yeah, that’s the secret about Aspen Peak that not many people know about.”

Percy watched Annabeth unzip the backpack and pull out a sleeping bag and blanket. She spread the sleeping bag close to the shore of the lake and patted the spot next to her for Percy to sit down. She could feel Percy’s incredulity emanating from him in waves when she continued to rummage in the backpack to produce a small portable campfire stove, a small pan, a lighter, and a thermos. In the front pockets, she had stowed away a few water bottles and a packet of hot cocoa powder.

“You were carrying all of this?” Percy asked.

“I thought it would be nice to have some hot cocoa,” Annabeth said.

Percy shook his head in disbelief. “You are definitely letting me carry all this shit on the way back down. I have no idea how you managed to stuff all of this in there.”

“Hard work and dedication,” Annabeth said sagaciously.

His ensuing laughter warmed Annabeth down to her bones that helped offset the chill in the November air. Percy took the blanket and wrapped it around them while she set to work making the hot cocoa. She emptied the water bottles into the pan and set it over the stove to boil before she added the hot cocoa powder. Once it was done, she poured it into the thermos and handed it to Percy.

“You sure you don’t want the first sip?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Annabeth smiled and said, “I’ll live. Just make sure you don’t drink it all.”

“That obviously goes without saying,” Percy said, rolling his eyes.

He took a tentative sip and made a noise of approval before handing it to her. “This is great.”

Annabeth tried some as well and savored the deep chocolate flavor and the warmth as it ran down her throat. Thank god she had splurged on a more expensive cocoa mix. There was something uniquely delightful about drinking a warm beverage on a cold day, she mused, and with the blanket wrapped around them, there was a pleasant warmth that made Annabeth drowsy.

They quietly watched the scenery and the water fowl gliding atop the water’s surface. The area behind the lake was covered in tall, dark trees that used to creep her out when she had been a child. It seemed like the perfect place for a man-eating monster to lie in wait for careless seven-year-olds.

The longer they sat there, huddled together beneath the blanket, the more acutely Annabeth could feel the heat of Percy sitting beside her. They were no strangers to cuddling with one another, but Annabeth could tell she was more hyper-aware of him than she normally was. It was like she could feel each individual hair on his forearms tickling her skin and feel his heartbeat reverberating in the space between them. An overwhelming feeling of closeness washed over her, filling her with an intoxicating warmth from head to toe, but it still wasn’t enough somehow.

She found herself reaching for Percy’s hand and holding her breath when her knuckles brushed against his with such imperceptible softness she would have forgiven Percy for not noticing, but Annabeth could tell that he had by the tick of his jaw and the hard look in his eyes. She couldn’t even bear to look at him, but she brushed his hand again, more insistently this time, and hoped the message was clear.

Annabeth did not know what love was, but when Percy caught her hand and laced his fingers between her own, she imagined it felt something like this.

“This was my mother’s favorite trail,” she said quietly. “We used to come here as a family all the time before she left.”

Percy squeezed her hand in acknowledgment and turned to face her so she could continue.

“Those were some of the only moments I remember liking from my childhood. Things were just brighter then. My mom would pack us sandwiches and my dad would get some crappy store bought cocoa mix and we’d spend the entire day up here, not really doing anything, but it was fun,” Annabeth whispered.

“Sounds like it was something really special,” Percy said softly.

“It used to be,” Annabeth said tightly. “I just- I just wanted to share it with you.”

A lump formed in Annabeth’s throat and she found herself hoping that Percy could tell what she meant because it was a little too painful for her to say aloud, and the gentle way Percy’s thumb brushed her knuckles made her think that he did. The intimacy of the gesture stood in stark contrast to the lump in her throat. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of sadness washed over her, but she didn’t understand where it came from or why.

Maybe it was that she mourned for a halcyon period in her life that was cut short, a time that she would never get back again. Maybe it was the somber reminder that time only moved one way and that there were never any do-overs in life. Or maybe it was the sudden, stupid realization that her mother really wasn’t going to come back after all.

Even after all these years, there was still some small, infinitesimal hope unconsciously squirreled away to some dark corner of her mind, hope that one day her mother would knock on the front door and step into her life again like she had never left and everything could go back to the way that it once was. Although she had always known that intellectually, it hadn’t quite sunk in until now. Suddenly, her chest was so tight that it was hard to breathe, but at the same time her thoughts raced in a desperate effort to rationalize away the whole thing so she wouldn’t have to feel it.

She could not make any sense out of how it was possible for a mother to one day walk out of her daughter’s life without a word or how the years you spent together as a family could be erased into nothingness.

If love was anywhere near as strong as Annabeth had been led to believe, then why was it so fickle, so cheap?

Perhaps, love was nothing more than building a house of cards that would collapse at the slightest provocation, a nectar destined to turn to poison in your mouth given enough time. If that was the case, Annabeth wanted nothing to do with it — she could never understand the appeal of something that would never last.

Maybe Percy would know the answer.

There was a pensive look on his face when she looked at him, but it melted into a smile once he noticed her eyes on him while his thumb continued tracing the ridges between her knuckles.

He cocked his head to the side and said, “You look like you want to ask me a question.”

Annabeth breathed a laugh and stared out at the lake to collect her thoughts before she said, “I guess I feel like I’m realizing for the first time that my mom’s really gone and won’t be back. There was a small part of me that kept hoping that she would show up one day and things would go back to the way they used to be, and now I’m realizing how stupid it was to believe that.”

“It’s not stupid,” Percy said, firmly but kindly. “It’s not stupid to wish your mom hadn’t left or to want her back.”

“It’s stupid to want someone who doesn’t want you back,” Annabeth muttered bitterly.

She looked up when Percy’s thumb stopped moving and was struck by the pain in his eyes before he forced a laugh and looked away.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that,” Annabeth said, guilt welling up inside her.

Percy screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “No, you’re right. We shouldn’t want someone who doesn’t want us, but we can’t help it anyways. We can’t help loving who we love, even if it hurts us.”

“Then what’s the point of it,” Annabeth asked desperately. “Why does everyone want it so badly when all it does is hurt?”

“Because that’s not all it does,” Percy said. “There’s more to love than pain.”

Annabeth hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop them. “Like?”

Percy leaned back on his elbows to stare up at the night sky with a sigh.

“To me, falling in love is like finding someone that you want to know as intimately as possible. Like how they look when they get caught in the rain; what makes them laugh so hard they can’t breathe; what their voice sounds like first thing in the morning,” he said softly. “And you try to find someone that wants to know you as much as you want to know them. You want them to see you for you, flaws and all, and still choose you anyways.”

“Is it even possible to show someone everything about yourself? And even if it is, what if they don’t like what they see?” Annabeth asked.

“Maybe it isn’t possible, but I think you still want to try anyway. It’s more about the effort than whether or not you succeed, at least to me,” Percy said.

“But yeah, it’s terrifying. It’s like you’re letting someone touch your heart with their hands and desperately praying they don’t crush it between their fingers, but at the same time, you kind of need someone who you can trust to help carry your heart. It’s too heavy a burden to carry alone.”

Annabeth picked at the grass and considered his words for a moment. Despite her hesitance, she couldn’t help thinking that it would be wonderful to have someone who would want to know her that badly, someone who could help carry the burden of being a person, someone who could see her for her and choose her anyways. It was just hard for her to believe she would ever find someone like that.

“Did you ever fall for any of the girls you’ve dated?” Annabeth asked.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Percy admitted. “I liked them and there was probably a part of me that was a tiny bit in love with them, but I don’t think I ever fell for them.”

“How could you tell the difference between liking them and falling for them?”

“That’s easy. Falling in love feels way different from just having a crush on someone.”

“So you have fallen in love with someone before?” Annabeth asked, seizing the opportunity.

Percy shifted uneasily in place and averted his gaze. Annabeth could see the conflicted emotions passing in his eyes as she watched him. She was about to tell him it was fine if he didn’t want to tell her when movement on the far side of the lake caught Annabeth’s attention. She squinted to see better through the dark and froze at the sight of a large gray wolf prowling towards the water’s surface at the other end of the lake. It’s blue eyes cut through the encroaching darkness and assessed her presence as it drew closer to the water.

Annabeth caught Percy’s wrist and whispered, “Percy, look.”

He followed her gaze and spotted the wolf before stiffening beside her. They weren’t in any immediate danger, but Annabeth could feel her breathing becoming shallower and how Percy had tensed up beside her. The wolf never took its eyes off of them as it drew closer to the lake and paused for a moment before lowering its head to drink from the water. Once it had its fill, the wolf looked at them once more before disappearing back into the forest.

“Holy shit,” Percy muttered.

“That was super cool,” Annabeth whispered.

Percy snorted and said, “It could have killed us easily if it had wanted to. There’s no way we could have outrun it.”

“It was still pretty cool,” Annabeth said, grinning.

He stood up and stretched his limbs with a groan. “White girls are truly fearless,” he said, shaking his head.

Annabeth laughed and said, “You realize human beings domesticated wolves, which is why dogs exist, right?”

Percy raised an eyebrow and said, “Feel free to go domesticate that giant ass wolf then. I’ll be watching here a safe distance away.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and stood up as well. “We should probably get going. It’s getting dark.”

Once everything was stowed in the backpack, Percy shouldered it and followed Annabeth down the trail. They walked carefully and paid extra attention to anything that could make them lose their footing. It was far worse to fall on the way back down than it was on the way up because momentum could force you down a long way.

They walked for a few minutes in silence before Percy suddenly said, “To answer your question before: Yes, I have fallen in love before.”

Annabeth looked over her shoulder, surprised by his admission. “Would I know her?”

There was a sad look in Percy’s eyes as he said, “Possibly.”

“She must be a lucky girl,” Annabeth said lightly.

At this, Percy laughed humorlessly and said, “That’s a bit of a stretch.”

Annabeth shifted a stray branch out of their path and said, “What makes you say that?”

There was a pause before Percy said, “Well, let’s just say my former girlfriends could attest to the fact that I’m a pretty terrible boyfriend.”

Annabeth’s heart clenched a little in her chest at his words. He was probably referring to what had happened with Kara. She wrestled the instinct to tell him that he hadn’t let anyone down because then he would ask her about it, but she couldn’t just say nothing after what he’d said.

She cleared her throat and said, “It’s hard for me to imagine you’ve ever let anyone down in your life. You’re like the most reliable, loyal person I have ever met.”

Percy was silent for a few moments before he quietly said, “You’re giving me too much credit. It’s only a matter of time before I let you down too.”

Annabeth had to pause because she had never heard Percy’s voice ever sound so sad and filled with self-loathing. She turned to look at him, but his face was a mask — even his eyes betrayed nothing. The pain she felt now was different from the kind she’d felt at the top of the peak, but it was worse somehow.

She took a step towards him, desperately trying to find the right words to say but, like always, nothing came to mind. Still, she couldn’t just let a comment like that slide, especially when it was so blatantly untrue.

“You do know that you could never let me down, right?” Annabeth asked, voice catching in her throat.

Percy shifted on his heels and looked down at his shoes, refusing to meet her eyes. She took another step forward and took his hands in her own. That was enough to make him look up at her, but the look in his eyes pierced through her like a blade. It was so hard for her to see him like this. Her hatred for Kara and all of his other stupid fucking girlfriends reignited like an inferno from the void, making her hands tremble.

“Listen to me very carefully: none of this is your fault,” Annabeth said angrily.

“You don’t even know what happened,” Percy muttered.

“I-” Annabeth started, before biting her lip.

Why couldn’t she say it? Why couldn’t she push past the black mass of terror inside her so she could be there for the person who mattered most to her in the world? Why was it so hard for her to tell him the fucking truth?

Percy’s eyes softened when he saw the frustration on her face. “Thank you for saying that, Annabeth. It means a lot.”

“But you don’t believe me,” Annabeth said, trying not to burst into tears. “You don’t believe me.”

He opened his mouth to say something before closing it again, his eyes swimming. He looked lost for words, which just made her feel sadder and angrier. He shouldn’t have to comfort her right now. This was about him, but it was turning into something about her and she didn’t know how to stop it.

Annabeth took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something painful. You do know that you can talk to me right? About anything?”

“Of course I do,” Percy said instantly.

“Then lean on me more,” Annabeth pleaded. “I can tell that there are things that you aren’t telling me. I’ve never pushed you to talk about things you didn’t want to talk about, but it’s getting hard when you’re suffering right in front of me.”

“I-I’ll try,” Percy said hesitantly.

Annabeth clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. He hadn’t convinced her, but maybe this was the best she could hope for right now. There were more things that she wanted to say, but it probably wouldn’t make a difference, not right now. She needed to give him time to get used to the idea. All she could do now was be patient and believe in him.

#percabeth #percabeth fluff #percabeth angst #just practice #percabeth fake dating au

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hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

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untitled | m. rantanen (fic preview)

a/n: i’ve been talking about this fic a lot, so here’s a little 1.6K. it’s very much not done. it doesn’t even have a title yet, but i hope you all like mikko and jo as much as i do! i ended up writing with an oc so i could write this how i envisioned. let me know what you think!!

Jo tugged at her sweater, pulling at the sleeves, at the slightly too tight bottom band, at the neckline, really any part that was touching her skin. It was itchy beyond belief, but she was pretty sure that she was about to take home the non-existent prize of ugliest Christmas sweater at the party tonight. Jo had been out with Helena for dinner, so she threw the sweater on in the car on the way over to Gabe’s and was regretting never having tried it on before this moment. But, the look on Mikko’s face when he saw just how ugly the sweater was would be worth her temporary discomfort.

She punched in the gate code at Gabe’s and made her way up the driveway, smiling the whole way, something Jo had been doing a lot more of lately than she usually did. She told herself it was the hometown air, mile high and clearer than any other city. She told herself it was the fresh snow falling regularly now, deep into December. She told herself it was Christmas and a lot of people were happier around Christmas. Jo’s happiness wasn’t temporary though. It was a shift, slow and steady, a constant pressure forcing her out of the mindset she settled in years ago, the one where she always needed to be pleasing other people to be happy, the one where she needed everyone’s approval to find her own joy. She knew the clearer air, the snow, and the holidays weren’t the pressure. The pressure was a tall, somehow clumsy Finn who wanted nothing more than to see Jo smile every single day.

He didn’t try to make her happy with jokes and gimmicks and other things that were essentially bandaids to Jo’s heaviness. He didn’t try to pull a funny face while jumping just high enough for Jo to see from the other side of the walls she has built to protect herself, the ones she thought were too high for anyone to climb. Mikko wasn’t climbing them, knowing full and well that him getting over them wouldn’t truly help Jo. It would make her just okay for a little while longer, make the way she lived a little more bearable, until it destroyed them both. Mikko was taking the walls apart, brick by brick, his patience and his steadiness guiding the way. He never got frustrated when some of the bricks went back up in the middle of the night while he slept. He got up the next morning all the same and went back to work, taking the walls apart piece by piece, at whatever pace Jo would accept. Mikko hadn’t given up in four months, and he wasn’t planning on it, not until all the walls were gone and the bricks were destroyed, crumbled back into dust, and Jo could see herself the way he saw her the few times he managed to make a hole in the wall and actually see her behind all her defenses.

Jo opened the door into Andre Burakovsky. It was an accident and he shouldn’t have been standing directly in front of the front door and he wasn’t hurt in the slightest, but Jo felt bad about it all the same.

“I’m dumb, it’s my fault,” he assured her. His mouth dropped open when he saw her sweater as Jo hung up her jacket in the front closet. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen and I wish we had a contest because you’d so win.”

“I would so win,” Jo agreed, fussing with her curls to get them reasonably back into place

“There should be a contest. Maybe you can bully Gabe into getting some sort of prize anyway because you deserve it, ” Andre told her, his signature wide smile on his face. “He’s in the family room last I saw him by the way, since I know you’re looking for him.”

Jo blushed at Andre’s words. He had caught her eyes tracking over the party that was in full swing, looking for the guy who had technically invited her, but she probably could’ve shown up anyway without his invite. She ducked out on Andre, blush still deepening with him laughing in the background, and made her way through the living room and kitchen into Gabe’s family room. She was old news by now, a days old newspaper no one wanted to read anymore, and it was Jo’s favorite thing about the Colorado Avalanche. She was Mikko’s friend Jo. Full stop. No additions necessary.

“Jojo!”

Jo heard Mikko before she saw him. She technically felt him before she saw him either as two heavy, muscled, ugly sweater covered arms wrapped around her stomach and lifted her off the ground, making her squeal.. He was laughing as soon as her feet left the ground. Jo’s hands gripped one of Mikko’s forearms around her waist to steady herself as Mikko rocked slowly side to side, weight shifting from foot to foot, with Jo in the air in his arms.

“Mikko!” Jo shouted through her laughter. “Put me down!”

“You’re so easy to pick up though, and now you can actually see the party,” Mikko pointed out unhelpfully.

He set her down anyway, knowing that when Josephine Evans made up her mind, such as wanting to be put down, she was a woman who would figure out how to get her way, Mikko’s shins be damned if that’s what it took. Mikko had a game to play the day after today and wasn’t excited about doing it with shins bruised by Jo’s boots.

“This sweater,” Mikko breathed out as Jo turned to face him. He was in disbelief as he looked at it, “Jo, this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Are you proud?”

Jo spun slowly on her heels, letting Mikko take in the absolute monstrosity she had bought to wear just for this. Mikko was in disbelief, written plainly all over his face, as he observed the sweater in all its terrible glory. Jo had more than delivered when he texted her and said it was an ugly Christmas party. Mikko loved the sweater, a true ugly beauty, but he thought the best part was that Jo put her hair in those little half space buns, the rest of her hair in curls falling down her back. He thought she was the cutest person he’d ever seen and he only knew one way to deal with it in a healthy way Jo would actually appreciate.

Appreciate might have been the wrong word.

Mikko reached out with two large hands and gave her little half buns a squeeze while saying, “Your antlers are cute.”

“Mikko, I swear to god, one day you’re going to die and it’s because I kill you,” Jo informed him with a tone so casual you would think she had just ordered a breakfast sandwich.

“And what a way to go,” Mikko just laughed in response. “Mel made spiked eggnog. You interested?”

Mikko knew Jo was interested before he had even asked, which is why it didn’t surprise him in the slightest that she took off for the kitchen, dragging him by his hand to get to the eggnog. Mikko had released when he stepped into Jo’s apartment on November 3rd, almost two months ago now, just how much Jo loved Christmas, because it had already been decorated that day he walked in. She had offered no explanation for the decorations being up so early other than that it was her apartment, she could do what she damn well pleased, and if Mikko didn’t like it, he could damn well leave. He stayed. Mikko always stayed when Jo was involved.

“Those are some pours there, Jo,” Mikko told her as he eyed the cups Jo was already filling for them from the pot. “Trying to get me drunk?”

“You’re a growing boy,” Jo countered, shoving a full cup into Mikko’s waiting hand. “Drink your milk and maybe you’ll grow big and strong.”

Mikko couldn’t help but laugh. He might make Jo laugh a lot and Mikko laughed a lot in general, but no one made him laugh more than Jo. Even on his worst days, even on Jo’s worst days for that matter, she could always pry a full bellied laugh out of him. It wasn’t even prying. Mikko would willingly give it over to her even when all she offered him was a shitty joke in exchange. It wasn’t lost on Mikko why that was. It wasn’t lost on anyone in the room, or really anyone who had ever spent four minutes in the same room as Mikko and Jo. Mikko looked at Jo differently from other people. Debate what you want about loving someone or being in love with someone, Mikko knew Jo didn’t want him to be in love with her and he respected her wishes more than how he wished she felt, but Mikko Rantanen loved Josephine Evans and it had taken only a few months for it to happen. Mikko realized it the other day on the plane coming back from a road trip. All he wanted was for the plane to get to altitude so he could turn on his phone and text Jo about something funny that had happened since his phone had been in airplane mode. All he wanted to do was get home and see her. All he wanted was her. And that’s not how you feel about people you don’t love.

#fic preview

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zuucc · 5 years

Text

KIDS: T. Jost I BLURB

Words: 1K

Summary: You’d never wanted kids. Never. But seeing Tyson with kids had you feeling different.

Author’s note: @going-full-shmoo and I had a conversation that resulted in this. I’m just going to say that I’m sorry in advance. Unedited until further notice.

“Don’t give him any babies!” you warn the girls as you walk into Gabe and Mel’s living room, sending a look to the guys as well, all standing around EJ who was on uncle duties, holding Linnea in his big arms.

“What? Why?” Gabe asks, chuckling, his gaze moving towards Tyson who was not far behind you.

“Her uterus goes into - I quote - existential crisis every time I interact with someone under the age of ten, making her question everything she’s ever known,” Tyson smirks, before giving you a teasing a look and strolling over to EJ and Linnea. You fall into the plush couch between Mel and Aleksandra, deflating like a floatie after a full summer in the pool. Luckily EJ wasn’t ready to give up his duties yet.

“How’s it going?” Mel laughs, smirking just like your boyfriend.

“I am in a constant battle with my uterus, what do you think?” you huff, looking over at Tyson who’s now found a toddler to play with, wincing at the sight and the fluttering feeling it gave you.

“Who’s winning?” Aleks asks, looking between yourself and Tyson.

“It sure as hell ain’t me,” you groan, making the two women laugh.

“What’s going on with her?” Ashley asks as she comes over to you and the other girls, baby on her arm. She looks straight at Mel, asking her, instead of the slumping form of hormones that is yourself.

“Her uterus is trying to convince her to get pregnant, and Tyson isn’t helping her case,” Mel explains, running a hand over your hair and nodding to Tyson who was now making faces at Linnea, the cause of the small giggles that filled the room.

“I thought you didn’t want kids,” Ashley states the obvious, turning her attention back to you with a smirk on her lips.

“So did I,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes glued to your boyfriend who had you feeling like you were made of butterflies - his eyes lightening up as EJ finally gave in and handed over Linnea to him. You wanted to be annoyed but there was no way you could be, the man with the little girl on his hip, making her giggle, had not only accepted the fact that you didn’t want kids and promised to love you either way, but no one could be annoyed at that sight; Tyson smiling widely at her as she giggled, her tiny hands in front of his face as he blew air into the soft skin of those incredibly small hands.

“I don’t understand,” Cale looks between you and Tyson who’s still working his best moves on the little girl. Cale had taken Mel’s place beside you, when she went to get the food ready for serving with Gabe.

“I have never wanted kids, at least not since I used to play with dolls as a kid. I have never felt that need to reproduce and be a mother. Never. But then I met Tyson, and I just love him so god damn much and now my brain is twisting around itself. My uterus literally reacts when I see him with kids, it’s like my inner, well-hidden motherly instincts get a boner or something,” you try your best to explain your situation to him. To say you left him speechless was an understatement.

Half an hour later, Linnea is asleep on his chest and Tyson comes over to you with a sheepish smile on his lips, sitting down next to you.

“Hey,” he says, following your every move closely as you reach out to run your finger over Linnea’s soft cheek, pressing your own cheek to Tyson’s shoulder.

“How are you dealing with this?” he asks, a hint of laughter in his voice but mostly it’s sweet. He knows it’s a serious problem for you, a constant battle between the one thing you’d known for years - you didn’t want kids - and the part of you that was so stupidly in love with Tyson that you’d do anything to make him happy, that had all your principles twisting. Your heart literally felt like it was about to burst with love just seeing him with someone else’s kid, imagine what it’d be like if the baby was yours and had his curly hair and goofy smile.

“Not well,” you sigh, and his stare softens, leaning towards you and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he pulls back, knowing very well he’s got nothing to apologize for.

“Not your fault, baby,” you tell him, saying the exact opposite of what you said on the car ride over, as you were whining over the fact that he had plans of conquering the hearts of every kid there.

“Give me at least five years,” you whisper hours later as you lay in bed, your front pressed to Tyson’s back as you spooned him, your lips pressed to his shoulder.

“What?” Tyson asks, his mind not in the same place as yours. He places his phone on the nightstand and turns around to face you.

“Give me at least five years to what I do, to work. I went through way too much education to not be a 100% in for a few more years,” you go on, leaving Tyson just as confused. You look up at him, moving your gaze away from the spot in the ceiling you’d been staring it mindlessly for the last ten or so minutes. Looking up at him you realize he still has no clue what you’re talking about.

“Five years and, if you want, we can have a baby, Tyson,” you tell him, tears welling in your eyes. It was a weird feeling, actually saying it out loud, admitting to yourself that you wanted the one thing you’d been so adamant about not wanting. But there was no denying the feeling it gave you, being with the man lying in just his boxers next to you under the sheets.

“What?” he asks, this time in disbelief. His hand comes up to cup the side of your face.

“I mean, are you sure? I don’t want you to change for me. I am fine with not having kids, baby - as long as I have you,” he adds, making the tears spill down your cheeks. How could he possibly love you as much as he did? At the same time, you knew the feeling, because you loved him like you hadn’t loved anything before - more than you could’ve imagined loving anyone or anything.

“I am sure, baby,” you press your forehead to his, sighing contently.

“Why are you crying, then?” Tyson asks, trying his best to dry the tears away. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Because I love you so much, Tyson, so much that you make me want things I have never wanted before, okay? I love you so, so much, and seeing how good you are with literally any kid, how you light up when you’re around them, makes me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.

“Oh, baby, I love you, too,”

#tyson jost blurb #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #hockey imagine #hockey

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thethistlegirlwrites · 4 years

Text

Memory

A little post about John and Robin for Dia de los Muertos! (Note, this is set after the novel so there’s spoilers below the read more cut!)

"This isn’t gonna weird you out, right?” John asks. “I thought fae had a thing with death.”

“No, you’re thinking of Lord of the Rings. The elves are immortal and death freaks them out.” Robin frowns at the box in John’s hands. “Fae just live a lot longer than humans. Death is just part of nature. We don’t like bad memories but that’s just because we kind of tend to live in the moment. Past and future don’t mean the same things to fae.” He pokes the box with a finger. “Why’d you bring that?”

“Because we gotta pack a few things.”

“I’ve already got my go bag,” Robin says. “It’s in your car like always.”

“That’s not what I mean.” John sets the box down. “It’s okay if you say this isn’t your thing, but…this holiday means a lot to me because I’ve lost someone I cared about. And I know your family’s a little…”

“Weird? You can say it.” Robin’s more or less learned to deal with what his father became. Arion twisted him into a whole different person. He mourns the good man who died a long time ago.

“I was gonna say unconventional, dude.” John chuckles. “But, see, the thing about Dia de los Muertos is that, well…the way Abeula Rosa always used to explain it, it’s the time when the barrier between this world and the next doesn’t exist, and the souls of everyone we’ve lost return to us for that time.” He smiles sadly. “It’s the only holiday that doesn’t hurt because Gabe’s gone, you know? Cause…he’s not. Not on that night.”

“I…you’re sure it’s okay for me to come?” Robin asks. John finally told him what happened in Amarillo. He wanted me to understand why he’d been so angry with me. He wasn’t making an excuse for it, just trying to explain. Even though Gabriel Stoker’s death is in no way Robin’s fault, he still feels like the man’s ghost might take offense. As much as I’m sure ghosts aren’t…you know…real, there’s something about this that I can’t deny. John clearly believes in the most supernatural elements of this holiday, and something about that seems to be rubbing off. “What if everyone doesn’t think I should be there?”

“I think you should be there. And I think Gabe would like you.” John’s hand is warm on his shoulder. “He’s the one who always thought the fae deserved a fair shake. I don’t think dyin’ woulda changed that.” John says softly. “Gabe never judged anybody by what they did. Damn kid was practically a saint. He’d defend others in a heartbeat, but he never had a thought for himself.” He smiles. “Kinda like you.”

Robin swallows around the lump in his throat. “So what do I need to bring?”

“For an ofrenda? Photographs of the family members you’re gonna honor, some things that remind you of them. We’ll make food to put out when we get there.” John glances at the kitchen. “But that reminds me, if you got any recipes that were anyone’s favorite, we should take those too.”

“Um…” Robin isn’t really sure how to explain this. “Fae don’t write down recipes, they pass them on by word of mouth. Nothing’s ever the same when a different person makes it.”

“Then I guess we’ll just be making a lotta test batches till we find something that tastes the way you remember.” John chuckles. “Here’s the box, I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

Robin nods. He knows John is giving him space to sort through his memories alone. He chooses a couple different family photographs and some of Mom’s stones, Grandma’s embroidered backpack and her favorite Bob Dylan record, and a couple of Grandda’s wood chisels and the white king from the chess set he made. After another long moment, he digs down into the dresser drawer and pulls out Adam’s watch. I wasn’t sure if he deserved to be included, but I think he should be. After all, his soul might be more lost than any of the rest. Maybe lighting the way for him to come home is the kindest thing Robin can do.

He closes the top of the box and carries it out to the Mustang. John is leaning on the side of the car waiting, and as soon as Robin gets his box settled John gets in and turns over the engine. Robin climbs into the passenger seat, and John pops a tape into the car’s cassette player. Robin raises an eyebrow when he realizes the lyrics are in Spanish.

“Mexican rock never got quite as popular as American or British, but it’s out there,” John says with a chuckle. “I grew up with Momma singing all the lyrics from Los Lunacitos and Dad playing the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.” He grins.

“Well, my grandma loved dancing to Peter Paul and Mary and Bob Dylan,” Robin says, pulling the record out of the box. “And Grandda and Mom sang all kinds of Seelie stuff. Guess we both come from families that loved music.” He nods down at the box. “I thought about bringing Grandda’s bagpipes but those were a little large.”

“I mean, we leave Gabe’s guitar on the ofrenda every year.” John says. “Wait, can you play?”

“Not unless you consider ear-splitting sounds that made every dog in the neighborhood mad ‘playing’,” Robin replies. “It’s more complicated than it looks. Probably Grandda’s isn’t even any good anymore, haven’t gotten it out in years.”

John nods. “I haven’t picked up my guitar too much lately either. Miss playing duets with Gabe and listening to Carmen sing, you know?”

Robin nods. He leans back in the seat and listens to the music and the hum of the tires on asphalt, feeling the sun on his face as they drive east toward Texas.

Taglist: @nade2308 @cmvorra @bands-space-and-monsters-oh-my @catwingsathena @asloudasalone @anguishmacgyver @flowing-river24 @myhusbandsasemni @floh673 @teddythecat1234 @bkworm4life4 @viawrites-andacts

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist for Magic & Silver stuff, just let me know!

#magic & silver #dia de los muertos #robin #angus robinson #john stoker #my ocs #original character #character sketch

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rupertgayesarchive · 3 years

Note

“i think sam would still have his visions, like you said, and then maybe those lead him to dean or to a case that dean is also on? or if angels are more well-known later on, he tracks one down, maybe cas, maybe not (if it's NOT and it's one that works on raphael's side. ohoho. the possibilities...)” YOU MADE ME SO ILL WITH THIS. this is the same anon as before I’m sorry for being like this. i don’t have a google doc open but you are going to convince me to do that unironically.

I think you might be right about the show being different completely if Sam was gone for years and the above quote made me so insane okay hear me out. I’m the gif of the man wildly gesturing at an investigative board right now. okay so in canon the apocalypse starts gearing up. well I mean that starts pre canon but in the context of the show I’d say around season 2 or maybe even 3? I think a lot of dean development regarding Sam happens in this seasons also. i think Gabriel could disappear Sam from THEN but it would be a little different cuz Sam at this point wouldn’t have a ‘normal’ life and is aware of the demon blood and feels inherently monstrous moreso than before so. maybe Gabriel would just stick him in a time loop because that’s just an easy way to keep him contained, but also Gabriel only did his other spike traps to teach the winchesters a lesson he felt would help work in his interest of stoping the apocalypse. and if sam was in a time loop like we saw he would try and get out of it which would mean more maintenance by Gabriel who I assume wants an unalarmed unaware Sam. hm. I think the funnest option here would literally just be he wipes Sam’s memory? like he returns Sam to factory settings and sticks him in one of his pocket dimensions. isont think HED put Sam back Stanford because Sam’s motivations have moved past compulsively wanting a normal life.. OKAY WAIT I just rewatched (sorry in advance I didn’t choose to be like this) s9 and the angel possessing Sam kept Sam locked in his mind by making him think he was on a hunt with dean. obviously Gabriel couldn’t do this cuz he’s not possessing Sam but he would throw Sam in a mundane pocket dimension for however long it takes to stop the apocalypse. so, maybe forever.

genuinely think it’d be so fun if Gabriel died or. wait if this is s6 cas could find him to ask for help against Raphael. i mean working under my previous assumption of Gabriel didn’t stop the apocalypse but just prolonged it leading to a s6 angel war type thing the specifics aren’t important I just want Cas to have some degree of girlboss lying and betraying. i think dean would assume Sam fucking died if he just vanished in s3 which is evil but I think it’d be fun that Sam comes back and dean doesn’t have the same degree or expectation of codepency anymore. like obviously not completely but in canon he did move on somewhat with Lisa and in this scenario it would be more healthy for dean I think because he’s not processing his grief out of obligation. I think Sam would come back and dean would revert immediately back to horribly adjusted before like eventually evening out.

i think it would be fun if Gabriel accidentally got caught up in whatever the fuck cas and or dean is doing which distracts him and Sam figures out what is happening. also it would be sooo fun to me if Sam literally just didn’t know several however many years had passed at this point. like he thinks it’s been a week and HE has discovered angels and is sorely disappointed he’s ready to be like DEAN the lore was wrong angels are evil. all this because... I think it’s fun but also because I think all of them taking pains to hide cas being an angel is hilarious and compelling. dean would probably like.. kind of encouragement through the agreement that angels are dicks after sam is caught up, AND LIKE YOU SAID. Sam should track down an angel who recognizes him and is on Raphael’s side and Sam wants information and is hostile but the angel recognizes him and . wait oh my god angel ruby. not.. not exactly like ruby but the archetype remains I think the angel would reluctantly convince Sam they could be useful and then just subtly manipulate Sam against Cas. like.. unwitting double agent is sooo fun to me. i don’t think the angel would mention cas by name immediately especially if Sam doesn’t know Cas is an angel, mostly because i want them to have the incredibly fun dynamic at first of Sam being just completely confused while Cas is amicable. but I do want Sam to be hostile to Cas sometime because that’s great, and additionally because it’s fun if whatever angel talking with Sam drops progressively larger implications about Cas which Sam just completely buys initially. but then he decides to start like.. talking with dean or bobby or whoever’s around. maybe even Cas. and realizing he’s being played on his own. mostly because I like characters having to admit to their faults but also because I think them deciding to go with the extremely ill advised plan of a triple cross is hilarious.

sorry this is so long and just an excuse for me wanting Sam to have to meet a somewhat less horribly adjusted dean who has like. actual friends and problems not intertwined directly with sam u know?

SORRY i completely lost track of stuff so I'm answering this Now:

anon please open a google doc this could be a really cool idea! i think i only have one series rewrite in me, hfym is IT you know? Anyway yes the idea of Gabe putting Sam in a pocket dimension or a time loop makes ME insane, I remember reading a really fucked up mystery spot au where Gabe accidentally forgot how long he left Sam in that loop and Sam like, lost it? So he shows up after 50,000 Tuesdays have passed or something insane like that. Anyhow I don't think it'd be as stagnant as that but if Sam did end up slowly realizing he was in like, some unreal environment? Maybe either his powers keep breaking through to show him events that he feel should be happening but they aren't? Like a vision about Jenny and her family in the Home ep in s1 but he can't actually get to his childhood home or a different family is in his childhood home? Weird shit like that. And maybe he ends up summoning or finding Gabriel to figure out what the FUCK is happening or another creature tunes into him if Gabriel isn't actively watching him.

Alternatively if you wanted to keep Sam around maybe like, he 'dies' in all hell breaks loose but when Dean sells his soul and Sam comes back Gabe snatches him up? So Dean thinks it was like, a trick or s/t... he tries to find Sam or get his soul back, ends up going to hell anyway, Cas saves him, Sam can't come to the phone rn so the apocalypse doesn't happen as it should... idk idk these are random ideas it's very hot here i can't think.

I also love the idea of another angel helping Sam and convincing him that Cas is the bad evil one that was leading Dean astray while Sam was out of commission that'd be SO fun. And yeah idk if the purgatory/souls thing would happen but angelic civil war is occurring, maybe said angel tries to kill Dean as a way to stop Cas and that's when Sam is like 'oh okay Cas is actually cool'. Maybe... a little pieta? as a treat? Cas cradling Dean's broken body openly crying over him (either dead or just gravely injured?) hm. love that. Sam just sees that sorta thing and is like 'Dean's gay?? is it gay if it's an angel?? Oh fuck I messed up huh' in that order lmao.

#asks #spn

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fanfic-scribbles · 4 years

Text

My 2020 Tumblr Top 10

I did this last year and thought it would be fun to do it again this year. Happy new year, and may 2021 treat us all a little bit better.

1). 220 notes - Mar 8 2020

Gremlins – Bucky/Steve/Reader

This is a new shirt.

Bucky really likes it.

It, too, is gone.

“What the fuck,” Bucky says and flings the not-favorite shirt across the room. It lands with a ‘thud!’

And an “Mm!”

He whips his head around and sees you peeling the shirt off your face. You give it a once-over and then turn a wry smile at him. “At least it’s clean.”

You hand it back and look over the small piles of clothing scattered across the bedroom floor. “What’s going on? Is that shirt still missing?”

“Four shirts,” Bucky grumps and flings the one he’s holding down to the floor. He rests his forehead on your shoulder and sighs. “I don’t know what the hell I did with them.”

He expects comfort, but the way your body tenses is…confusing. At first he thinks he’s heavy or has somehow made you physically uncomfortable, but before he can pull away you rub his shoulders and absolutely every aspect of that motion feels awkward.

And when you say, “I’m sure they’ll turn up eventually,” he knows you’re hiding something. He just doesn’t know what.

Or why.

2). 167 notes - Jun 19 2020

Life of the Party – Bucky Barnes/Reader

“Don’t relax; we’re not safe yet.”

You don’t even realize it at first; you’re so fucking done with the whole damn day you just roll your eyes and say, “Boy, you’re a real party, huh?”

He freezes in the middle of loading a gun and you gasp when you realize when he just said. Well shit.

“You know,” you chuckle, because what is your life right now, “–I thought we’d be in the middle of pulling off a prank or something. Not, you know, a war zone.”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t…think of it,” he says, then flinches and looks at you, brows creased in worry. Or is that aggravation? No, that looks like worry.

“Cool,” you say and smile at your soulmate. “I have no expectations to live up to. That’s nice.”

The lines in his face soften. He raises one eyebrow. “What expectations do I have to live up to?”

You run your hand over your arm absently, though the words are covered by a jacket. His eyes flick there and linger. “Well, I always thought you were a troublemaker,” you say lightly. “But here you are, saving my life.”

3). 72 notes - Sep 20 2020

Marry Me – [established] Steve Rogers/Reader and [past/future?] Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

A hand sets on your shoulder and you flinch. “Sorry,” the voice says. He sounds gentle, so you look up with a cautious sense of hope.

You gasp at who it is. “Bucky?”

His smile is pained, but he holds out his hand and helps you up. “I guess Steve told you at least some of it.” He looks back and frowns, then faces you. “I’m sorry but we’ve gotta go.”

“I should call Steve,” you say and pull out your phone.

“No. In fact–” Bucky snatches it from you and tosses it into a nearby garbage bin. You barely get out an offended yelp before he’s dragging you along.

“They’re tracking it,” Bucky says, speeding up. “And they’ll be back soon.”

You get to a motorcycle and Bucky grabs a helmet and holds it out towards you. “I know Steve doesn’t have a lot of reasons to trust me right now, but please. I want to help.”

You take the helmet, because you trust the latter sentence. And it’s not his fault he’s wrong about the former. You think you’re the only one who actually knows why.

4). 67 notes - Jan 5 2020

Dinner Date: Chapter Two – Steve Rogers/Reader

“Hi lovebirds.”

I jolted back from the table as someone– two someones– slid into the empty chairs on our sides. It was just Clint and Natasha, but they looked shockingly normal and well-matched. Clint looked nice, like a normal person and not an absolute disaster, while Natasha seemed mildly dressed down in an obviously well-loved jacket and muted colors.

“Is your hat a polar bear?” I asked, staring at her beanie. It had little ears and everything. “That is so fucking cute.”

“Thanks,” she said and pulled over a menu from the little stand in the center of the table.

Steve cleared his throat. “Natasha. Clint. What are you doing here?”

“Looking into a new lunch place,” Natasha said, not even looking at him. “It’s a free country, Steve.”

“Then maybe you can get your own table, Natasha.”

I had no idea what the hostility was all about but Clint started picking at Steve’s plate, distracting him long enough for Natasha to lean closer to me and say my name. “So you’re making an honest man out of our captain?” she said.

“Oh my god Natasha.” Steve was so red I practically had to smother myself to keep from laughing. “We talked about this!”

“We did,” she agreed easily but angled her body towards me. Something about her face made it easy for me to stop laughing. “You said I couldn’t talk to her while she was on her own. So now you get to be present for it.”

At first I couldn’t fathom what ‘it’ was, until I took in Steve’s face (a mixture of annoyed and concerned), Natasha’s body language (very business-like), what Natasha had said (about making an “honest man” out of Steve), and added it all together.

“Is it shovel-talk time?” I asked in wonder.

5). 62 notes - Jan 28 2020

A Little Pickle – Gabriel/Reader

“Gabe.”

“I’m just saying– we have to wait for our heroic rescuers anyway, so why not have a little fun in the meantime?”

“Gabriel.”

“Oh no. Full name.”

“Oh yeah full name. However, ‘on the bright side,’ I now have one whole bar of cell service and I’m sending a text out.”

“Don’t you want to wait?”

“No. Oh look, it just went through.”

“Shit.”

6). 60 notes - Nov 11 2020

Dinner Date Chapter 12 – Steve Rogers/Reader

He didn’t say anything at first. He turned slightly to wrap both arms around me in a hug. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he murmured and squeezed momentarily. “I can promise that.”

“I believe you. I trust you, so much,” I said. I kissed his shoulder. “Thank you. For staying with me, and not going after him– even though I know you probably wanted to.”

“I did,” he admitted. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay more.”

I took a satisfyingly deep breath. Sleep was pulling hard. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re soft,” he said and gave me a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“I know.” I smiled and let my body relax fully at last. “I trust you.”

7). 58 notes - Dec 22 2020

Supernatural Fic Masterlist

8). 52 notes - May 15 2020

Dinner Date Chapter Seven – Steve Rogers/Reader

“Hello Natasha,” I said to the woman looking intently through my cupboards. I had a bunch of questions: ‘what are you looking for,’ ‘do you think I keep a safe in there,’ ‘your hair looks very bouncy today are you going somewhere nice,’ and, my personal favorite, “How did you get in my apartment?”

“Trade secret,” she said and shook a half-empty box of cereal. Okay, by the sound of it there was a lot less than half. “Do you not have any real food?”

9). 49 notes - Feb 27 2020

Dinner Date Chapter Five – Steve Rogers/Reader

“I’m sorry,” I said, still buried in his shirt. “It was really nice.”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” he said, too quickly.

“I did; I just got…overwhelmed, I guess?” I lifted my head for a moment, barely caught a glimpse of his expression, and then immediately shoved my face back in his chest. “That sounds stupid; forget I said anything.”

He shook with quiet laughter and I grumbled, “Shut up or I’ll pinch your tit.”

“Don’t move too fast for me sweetheart,” he said and, damn it, that made me laugh. He cleared his throat and said, “Would it make you feel any better to know you weren’t the only one feeling overwhelmed?”

10). 48 notes - Feb 11 2020

Dinner Date Chapter Four – Steve Rogers/Reader

“What time is it?” I asked, already sinking into a measure of comfort. At last.

“Almost midnight,” Steve said, sitting next to me. He handed me the cow, which was nice, but…

“It’s late,” I said and looked at him. “Do you want to stay tonight?” Wait, that was terrible, I was gross. “You can have the bed, if you want; I can take the cou–”

I didn’t even get up on my elbows before Steve lay down, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me into him. I snuggled even closer and he flicked off the bedside light.

“You know if you wanted me to stay you could just say so?” he chuckled in the warm dark.

“It seemed rude to assume you’d want to,” I said and shut my eyes. “You’ve been so good to me. I don’t want to…take advantage.”

“I don’t mind,” he said softly, running his hand up and down my back. “I hated being sick. I like being able to help.”

“Mmm.” I started drifting off. “Did you have someone to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little sadly. “My ma was busy a lot but she always did what she could. Bucky took over the job. He was even stricter than she was.”

“Good,” I said. “You would need someone to browbeat you into bed.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I really did,” he said fondly. “But you couldn’t blame me. God; the home remedies we had…”

“Don’t give me nightmares,” I said without meaning it.

“All right,” he whispered, a smile in his voice. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Created by TumblrTop10

#tumblrtop10 #masterlist #reader insert #spn fanfic #avengers fanfic #fanfic in review

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plus-size-reader · 5 years

Text

Bonded

Gabriel x Winchester!Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1864 words (Counting bonus content)

Warnings: none

Summary: Sam and Dean’s baby sister needs to get an anti-possession tattoo...but a certain archangel feels the need to drop in.

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You and Gabriel had always had a special kind of bond, a bond that you kept a secret from both of your brothers.

Sam and Dean would throw a total bitch fit if they found out that you often prayed to Gabriel in your spare time or that he visited you in the middle of the night. It wasn't the kind of thing that would go over well with either of them.

Not that it mattered much in this moment.

It had been Dean's idea that Sam quickly agreed with. You had to get an anti-possession tattoo.

The idea that you didn't already have one was kind of criminal and John was probably rolling in his grave. It was your brothers' jobs to keep you safe and if you got possessed, that wasn't exactly keeping you safe.

So, there was only one thing to do...you had to find a tattoo parlor around here and get inked up before anything bad could happen.

"I just don't see why I have to do it now, I'm not gonna get possessed" you groaned, throwing your hands up as you tried to argue with both men. They could remind you of your dad sometimes, and it was frustrating.

Still, you had to admit that they did have a point.

No matter how many times you said it, there was nothing keeping you from being possessed by a demon, or the devil, or whatever else wanted inside your skin. An anti-possession tattoo was the only option.

As much as you hated to admit it.

"You don't know that, plus it's just better to be safe" Sam reminded, he and Dean sounded like a broken record this morning and you were going to lose your mind. At this point, you had a better chance of catching a troll in your sock drawer than getting them to shut up.

It was best for all of you if you just sucked it up and got the tattoo already.

Sure, it would hurt like a bitch and there was no real guarantee that it would work but you were willing it try. Hell, you would do anything to get your loving, overprotective brothers off your back right now.

"Fine, let's go" you groaned, snatching the keys from Dean before heading out the door. There was no way that he was going to let you drive but you liked getting under his skin.

It was just so easy to do.

Tattoo parlors weren't everywhere, it was true, but when a hunter wanted something-they would find it and when Sam and Dean wanted something, it was never too far.

All it took were a few well-placed phone calls from one of Bobby's old phones and you found someone just down the road who was willing to do it for you. You weren't psyched about the idea of a bootleg tattoo in some random house, but you had already agreed.

Once you said yes to Sam and Dean, you were locked in. At that point, you could beg them to let you quit, to just take you back to the motel but it wasn't going to happen.

They weren't going to have anything hurting you.

"This is it, lets get this over with" Dean hummed, taking your hand in his own and leading you up to the door.

You had been through a ton of pain in the past, from stab wounds to actual death but that didn't stop you from being nervous about a ton of needles piercing your skin at once. It was stressing you out and that only meant one thing.

Gabriel was on high alert.

He always got this sick feeling in his stomach when there was something wrong with you. Every time you'd gotten hurt on a hunt or even had a bad dream, he could feel it.

So, the amount of anxiety that was streaming out of you now was more than enough to alert him that something was wrong.

The only trouble was that other than sensing your emotional waves, he had no idea what was going on. There was no context as to what was putting you under so much stress so you could be dying, or just really nervous about something...

He had no clue which it was.

...And that was a problem.

In any case, if you were in that much distress, he had to check it out-just to make sure that nothing was seriously wrong.

When he finally showed up to where you were, you were already sitting down in the chair, reclined with your flannel open. John had always said that there was something to having the anti-possession close to the heart.

If you put it on an outer limb or something like that, it would be easier to remove. If it was closer to your sternum, the only way for it to be removed would be to burn it off.

Dean liked to stick to that idea, even if it did hurt like a son of a bitch.

"Just breathe kid, it will be over before you know it" The man suggested. He was an old hunting friend of Bobby's, someone who had taken up tattooing as a side hustle. You thought that he said his name was Ron but you hardly paid attention.

You couldn't focus on anything aside from the blood hammering in your ears.

It really wasn't that big of a deal but you just couldn't get over how scared you were. You had never had a tattoo before, and you had no idea what to expect.

Luckily though, Gabriel wasn't going to let you face it alone.

He knew that your brothers wouldn't be super pleased to see him, but he didn't care. Right now, taking care of you was his only goal. Nothing else mattered until he knew that you were alright.

There wasn't a super great way to make an entrance into someone elses home, but being an archangel took away all that small talk stuff. All he had to do was materialize into the space, and find whatever was hurting you.

He would just find it, and kill it...it was easy as that.

However, once he actually got to where you were, he realized it wasn't going to be that simple.

"What is going on? Are you okay?" he asked, shoving past both Sam and Dean to get to your side. Worry was painted on his face but nothing compared to the shock you wore on your own. You hadn't even told Dean that you talked to Gabe outside of hunts.

Not that Sam knew much more either.

Both men were clueless as to what the angel was doing at your side, but they couldn't get the words out fast enough.

No one was more confused about his being here than you.

"I'm fine Gabe, what are you doing here?" you wondered, shocked that he would even show up here. You were a little stressed, sure, but you weren't bleeding out. He hardly ever made these appearances when there were other people around.

At first he only shrugged, like he was just passing through but you knew better. He had made a special trip to check on you and as awkward as it was, you were glad.

"I came as soon as I felt it, what is going on?" he urged, shoving the back of his hand to your forehead as it to check your temperature. If he actually stopped to think about it, he could have put the pieces together but you both knew the truth...

He wasn't going to relax until he heard it straight from your mouth.

"I'm getting a tattoo-with Sam and Dean" you gestured, the awkwardness of the whole thing really hitting you when you made eye contact with your brothers.

You were going to get an ear full about this later.

Gabriel nodded, looking behind him at your brothers before his attention fell back on you. It didn't bother him that both men were there, because he was way more concerned with you.

It didn't surprise him that you were getting a tattoo, as it seemed to be a family thing but what did shock him was that you didn't tell him about it before. Usually when something happened in your life, Gabe was the first to know.

However, you didn't exactly plan to be doing this today...in your own defense.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he wondered, his voice much more soft, meant for only you to hear. If you didn't know any better, you would say that his feelings were hurt.

You felt kind of guilty but there was nothing you could have done. Sam and Dean had basically kidnapped you this morning.

"I didn't exactly know I'd be here today" you shrugged, tensing as the man at your side continued carving away at your flesh. He had placed the stencil just below your collarbone, which was a pretty sensitive area to stab over and over.

As soon as you flinched, all feelings of upset Gabriel had been nursing melted away. Without hesitation, he rushed to your side, grabbing your hand in his own.

He wasn't going to let you do this alone...no matter what.

~ BONUS: Sam and Dean's reaction.

Gabriel had left after the tattoo was finished and after you aggressively assured him that you were going to be okay. You knew that if he had it his way, he would watch over you for the next few days to make sure you were okay, but you were a big girl-you could handle it.

In all honesty, you would have loved to keep him but it wasn't practical.

Right now, you'd have to deal with the drive back to the motel, and the impending lecture from your brothers.

You should have known that bonding with an archangel would have its consequences but when it came to Gabe, you didn't care. When you were with him, you felt free and protected...

You felt right.

It wasn't your fault that you had feelings for him...no matter what Sam and Dean may think.

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the impala, with you in the backseat, and Dean driving as he always did. The first few minutes were quiet, probably so the two of them could compose their thoughts but it didn't stop the dread welling up inside you.

This was going to be worse than the time you snuck out to have pizza with Freddie Duns in high school.

You were never going to hear the end of this.

Finally, Dean took a deep breathe, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he thought about how he wanted to start this. "Gabriel? Really?" he grumbled, turning to look at you, that same look of distaste on his face.

You had always hated that look.

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but before you could, Sam had joined in. "-Yeah Y/N, of all people, why Gabriel?" he asked, not connecting the dots.

He and Dean had always found the little man bothersome but that clearly wasn't the case for you.

"I can't stand that guy" Dean huffed, shaking his head.

This was going to be a long drive.

#gabriel #archangel gabriel #supernatural gabriel #spn gabriel #supernatural #spn #gabriel x ps reader #gabriel x plus size reader #gabriel x reader #archangel gabriel x ps reader #archangel gabriel x plus size reader #supernatural gabriel x ps reader #supernatural gabriel x plus size reader #spn gabriel x ps reader #spn gabriel x plus size reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x plus size reader #supernatural x ps reader #supernatural x ps reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Dazed and Confused (Part 1)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

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“Dean?” you asked, spotting him walk in the front door and cut through to the back of the apartment. “Dean what...you’re supposed to be at the academy, aren’t you? You got class until-”

“I flunked out,” said Dean, your scoff stopping him in his tracks. “You think I’m fucking joking about that?”

“Considering you’re top of your class, yeah, I think you’re playing some shitty prank or ditching class. Now what is-”

“I have a record apparently. I can’t be a police officer now,” said Dean, grabbing his gym bag from the floor and moving to the closet. “I was seventeen and in a car I didn’t know someone took form their dad without permission. They charged all of us for a stupid non-crime and if I ever see Gabe again, I’m gonna murder him.”

‘Dean...” you said, grabbing his arm, spinning him around. “Go back to the academy and explain-”

“I was forced to quit, Y/N. I got called out of class and into the dean’s office. If you have a record, you can’t be a cop. They thought I was hiding it but I didn’t even know I had one. No exceptions they said. My bag’s are in Baby” he said, shrugging you off. “I’m staying with Sam tonight.”

“Dean, baby, it’s gonna be okay. Maybe we can call your dad, he’s a detective. He knows-”

“Stop trying to make me feel better for once in my life!” he shouted, brushing past you and for the door. “Y/N, give me some space. I mean it.”

“We are talking about this once you cool off Dean. Until then you can have your space.”

Two Months Later

"What?” you asked quietly, too caught up at staring at the green eyes under the mask to think about the gun in his hands. His own were wide and he was quickly shoving you on the ground, standing over you.

“Say another word and I’ll kill you, understand?” he growled, not waiting for an answer before barking out other orders to people inside the bank.

You hadn’t seen or heard from Dean in almost two months. You gave him his day to vent and get it out that he wasn’t going to be a cop, that everything he’d worked for in school and college and the academy was all gone.

When he finally came back around with a couple of moving boxes, he went off on you. You knew Dean’s head and knew that he didn’t mean what he said during a fight. Normally it was his way of getting you to back off. Nearly four years together and two with living together gave you a pretty good idea of when he was being mean for no reason.

But when he, the one guy you ever willingly told about the awful day...when he said it was your fault, you knew it was done. If he was so angry and bitter about not being a cop that he would rip open wounds that only got shut because of him, he wasn’t the man you thought he was.

Two months later seeing green eyes that looked so much like his, hearing a voice that was just a bit deeper than you were used to...you were almost positive the man in the ski mask and holding a gun at some poor bank teller was Dean Winchester.

He wasn’t there more than a minute, gone in a flash and barely enough time for you to register the build under the baggy hoodie and coat.

“Hi, Sam,” you said, dialing him up as soon as you gave a statement to a cop. “You heard from your brother lately?”

“Uh no. He and I aren’t exactly talking right now,” said Sam, his voice hard. “I haven’t seen him in two months.”

“I think...” you said, walking away from the bank and climbing in your car. “I think your brother just robbed a fucking bank, Sam.”

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” said Sam.

“Neither was getting shoved around by a bank robber, Sam. I am 99% positive that it was Dean,” you said.

“Dean was pissed last time I saw him but he’s not a criminal, Y/N,” said Sam.

“I didn’t...I’m worried about the asshole, alright?” you said, Sam breathing heavy on the other end. “Oh, you think he’s an asshole too, Sammy.”

“What’d he say to you?” asked Sam.

“Shit I don’t want to talk about. I’m guessing he said crap about your mom?” you asked, Sam’s thick swallow coming through loud and clear. “He got kicked out of the academy and he lost his shit, which I get but Sam you know your mom was not your fault.”

“I know but he just had to...maybe he really did rob a bank,” said Sam, his floor creaking in the background. “I know, Kevin...I’ll run to study group in just a minute, okay?”

“Shit, it’s your finals week, isn’t it,” you said, running your hand over your face. “You don’t need this right now.”

“It’s alright, Y/N,” said Sam. “Swing by the house around eight. We can talk then.”

“No, you study, Sam. I’m sure I’m overreacting is all.”

Four Years Later

“Junior Detective Y/L/N,” said your partner, a hard ass with a nought soft center.

“Bobby,” you said with a smile up at him, his face in even more of a scowl than usual. “It’s not even nine in the morning. What’s shoved up-”

“You’ve been reassigned, kid,” said Bobby, your jaw dropping. “You think I want another snot nosed brat to train? Uh uh.”

“Where are they putting me?” you asked, getting up from your desk, following him down the hall to the conference room. “I didn’t put in for anything. I actually like being your partner. Bobby, I-”

“Special assignment is all chief would tell me,” said Bobby.

“Y/N,” said the chief, waving you inside, holding up a hand for Bobby to wait outside.

“John, what in the world could you be putting her on that I can’t know about it?” asked Bobby.

“It’s need to know and you know what you need to,” said John, closing the door in his face. He pointed you to a seat, pulling down the blinds in the room. “You’re fidgeting, Y/L/N.”

“What’s going on that the most senior detective in the department can’t know about it?” you asked.

“You’re the only person here who can do what I’m about to ask you,” said John, sliding over the lone file at the other end of the table. “I need you to keep this quiet. You’ll understand-”

“Dean,” you said, his face staring back when you opened the file. There was no arrest record apart from one when he was 17 but the things he was suspect in...

“Dean is...let’s just call it in deep shit and leave it at that,” said John, taking a seat beside you. “He’s dangerous. Never been convicted of anything. I’ve kept the rumors of what he does away from the department but...Dean’s made a name for himself elsewhere. Everything from petty theft to kidnapping, assualt...murder suspect.”

“John, why are you showing me this?” you asked, sliding the file away, not caring to see what happened to the man you once loved.

“I need you to go undercover,” said John, your head shaking. “You just had your secondary training a month ago and they said you’re one of the best they’ve seen. We both know you became a cop to figure out what the hell happened to him. This is our chance.”

“I became a cop so I wouldn’t feel scared again like in that bank,” you said, turning away. “In case you forget, your son broke up with me. He said things to me that I can’t forgive. He would never in a million years buy that I forgot all that.”

“I’m not asking you go undercover as his girlfriend, Y/N. He’s a criminal. He’s in Washington, a small town, working something. We just need intel on what it is, that’s it,” said John.

“He knows me. He probably knows I’m a cop. I can’t just go undercover,” you said.

“So what if he knows you’re a cop? Tell him you quit if he asks,” said John.

“John...” you said, leaning back in your seat. “I can’t do it.”

“We don’t have a choice, Y/N. The feds said you’re the one. You pack up tonight.”

A week later you were in your new town with a population of two thousand people. You were barely there thirty seconds before half the people were bringing over plates of food. It didn’t take long for word to spread a new girl was around or for you to spot Dean after that.

“Leave,” he said as he walked past you on the street, not bothering to stop.

“Dean,” you said, jogging back to catch up with him, catching his arm halfway down the block. “What-”

“If I see you again, you won’t like what happens next,” he said, shrugging you off.

About eight hours later, you realized you never really knew Dean Winchester at all.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #series

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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@elfysparkles88

#listen it's a universal problem#I love my mans Scott#everyone is always bagging on him WHY#Scott Summers#X-Men

Its because Scott Summers is inevitably compared and contrasted with those around him, and he has the great misfortune of running in the same circles as an all-star line up of like....just the absolutely most Ridiculous People to Ever Ridick.

We’re talking about a guy whose dad was abducted by aliens and from there went on to decide, welp, guess I gotta become a space pirate now, jaunty earring and all, no, shhh, shh, no, there are no alternatives, I gotta, no, I said no - SHUT IT, I SAID I GOTTA BE A SPACE PIRATE NOW ITS THE ONLY WAY. Oh btw, meet my fianceé. She’s an alien mercenary who is a little like a skunk but don’t call her that to her face or she’ll shoot you in yours. How’s that for swoonworthy, am I right, son?

We’re talking about a guy whose own son was a literal sixty year old Grumpy Old Man overburdened with world-weariness, wildly unnecessary shoulderpads and arthritic joints when Scott was barely hitting his third decade. With said son now randomly being a moody sixteen year old again, with a pet sentient sword he talks lovingly to, because apparently Nathan Summer’s take on teenage rebellion was to act out by being all LOL Fuck Time Travel Paradoxes and then rebelliously zooming around the space/time continuum while blasting a soundtrack of MCR probably, until he finally got a bead on his older self and shot himself in the face while being like “its not that I’m angry with you, I’m just disappointed” and look this is the part where your eyes are gonna wanna just glaze over so your brain can have a break, shhh, shh, don’t ask questions, just let it be, it happened, its a thing.

We’re talking about a guy whose brother rode a merry-go-round of “Am I a good guy this week or am I a bad guy because Reasons or sometimes Brainwashing or sometimes I Don’t Even Fucking Know, Look Don’t @ Me Bro, I Just Fucking Work Here, I’m Not In The Loop” for most of his twenties until dying in a fiery explosion only to inexplicably return years later as a coma patient who finally woke up one day and said “Whoa, just got back from tripping around the multiverse and boy do I have stories cuz apparently I’m the Nexus of All Realities, so hah, SUCK IT, big brother, and yes that is TOO a thing, shut up, LET ME HAVE THIS. Oh and also btw don’t spend a lot on your wedding gift for me and Lorna because I’m gonna leave her at the altar once I realize that I’m actually more in love with the random nurse lady who changed my bed pans while I was in a coma having a romantic rendezvouz with her in Paris in my brain courtesy of her psychic eight-year old kid trying to play matchmaker for her cuz like, she doesn’t date much apparently but its whatever, this is FINE, I have no objections. Ugh why are you looking at me like that Scott, no, I don’t need to “talk” with someone about everything I’ve ‘been through,’ ugh I’m HAPPY you asshole, god, why don’t you ever want me to just be HAPPY ugh you just have to control EVERYTHING with your over-bearing BS like “I am concerned your decision-making processes might be affected by all the people tampering with your decision-making processes over the years” like umm DID I ASK? No? I didn’t think so? YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD, SCOTT, UGH THAT DOES IT, IM RUNNING AWAY TO BE A SUPERVILLAIN AGAIN AND THIS TIME ITS TOTALLY YOUR FAULT, YOU’LL BE SORRY WHEN I CRY HAVOK AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR THIS TIME FOR SURE, AND OMG FOR THE LAST TIME I KNOOOOOOW THAT’S NOT HOW ITS SPELLED, ITS ABOUT THE AESTHETIC SCOTT, ITS CALLED HAVING A SENSE OF STYLE, UGH, LET ME LIIIIIIIIIIIVE.”

We’re talking about a guy whose other little brother randomly showed up and started killing people one day being like “hahaha surprise, bet you all forgot about me, PS, I’m REALLY FUCKING MAD AT YOU ALL FOR FORGETTING ABOUT ME” because the world’s most powerful telepath made everyone forget about him and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day they all had once and this is fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, this is normal. As is the way his newly discovered slash remembered slash resurrected slash recently returned from spending the last decade fucking around as a disembodied energy ghost on a rock up in Earth’s orbit little brother then decided the Earth just wasn’t big enough for the both of them, the both of them in this case meaning both him, singular, and his Angst, as a wholly separate and towering entity in its own right. So instead he fucked off to space and decided to conquer a vast alien empire and spend the next several years being their god-emperor or whatever until he got bored with that. And also he kinda sorta killed their dad for a bit but whatever, its fine, he got better, and then he also kinda sorta died for a bit himself but whatever, its fine, he got better, and there was that whole interstellar war between himself and the Inhumans but whatever that wasn’t even his FAULT, Scott, THEY STARTED IT, god, do you ever stop JUDGING ME AND MY LIFE CHOICES and PS I’m still mad at you for killing Xavier, you fucking asshole, not because you did it but because like, you KNOW I wanted to do it, I had a whole fucking villain monologue moment about it and everything, you were literally there, UGH WHY WON’T YOU LET ME HAVE NICE THINGS?!?! YOU ARE THE ENEMY OF FUN AND JOY AND HEY MAYBE YOU WERE THE REAL VILLAIN ALL ALONG, DID YOU EVER THINK OF THAT? HUH? MR. I’M THE BOSS, WAIT WHO’S THE BOSS? OH YEAH STILL ME, SCOTT, I’M THE BOSS, YOU GOTTA STOP BEING A SPACE EMPEROR GABE BECAUSE YOU CAN’T BE THE BOSS, ONLY I AM ALLOWED TO BE THE BOSS BECAUSE I’M THE BOSS AND I SAID SO AND YOU GOTTA DO WHAT I SAY OR I’LL TELL DAD.”

And that’s not even getting into how we’re also talking about a guy who basically ended up divorcing his first wife and suing for sole custody on the grounds of “Well, your Honor, she tried to sacrifice our son on a literal demonic altar in order to summon Hell to Earth to destroy everything just to get back at me after I left her. Yes, your Honor, I understand that is in fact Asshole Behavior, but there were extenuating circumtances, you see, the woman I left her for was my first love before her who I thought was dead. And also, she was literally my wife before my wife was. No, I don’t mean I was married before Maddie, I mean Jean was kinda pretty much already Maddie before Maddie was Maddie. Its this whole clone thing. Look, I’m just saying it was a complicated situation and I know I have my part to play in it, but I still stand by my conviction that trying to sell out our entire planet and species to the legions of Hell while using the innocent blood of our ten month old as the Golden Ticket to the Chocolate Factory was still a little over the top and not really the right way to handle it either. Also, I contend that I can provide a better home environment at the moment than someone who is insisting on being addressed as The Goblin Queen because what even is that, honestly, Your Honor, and also, she also brainwashed my brother into trying to kill me on her behalf, which to be fair does happen about every other month anyway, but still, like. Dick move, you know?”

And we’re also talking about a guy whose second wife who was kinda sorta his first wife but only in that It Ain’t Bigamy If Its A Clone Thing way....like, I mean. Its kinda hard NOT to come across as the bland one in the relationship when your second wife occasionally moonlights as the AirBnb of choice for a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction who is pretty infamous for the ragers she hosts every time she pops into town for a visit, all smiles and (literal) sunbeams (of scorching lethality) and “Lol hey hot stuff, remember me?” As if someone who ate an alien civilization’s sun the last time she hit a Mood is like....really in danger of ever being “New phone, who dis?”ed. But that is neither here nor there, much like the sentients of Alpha Centauri Bumfuckville after she went all Goodnight Sun, Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Solar System on their corner of the galactic neighborhood, because.....tbh I don’t think she ever actually said “why” there. Its one of those things where if you don’t already KNOW why a cosmic parakeet goddess of rebirth and fiery destruction has decided its nighty-night time for this particular zipcode.....like.....that’s not really something you just ASK, y’know? Its....tacky, probably. Also, low on the self-preservation instincts, probably.

Plus we’re talking about a guy whose second marriage to Yet Another Woman It Probably Should Have Registered As A Bad Idea To PIss Off Like This ended in like....so, okay, this was a bit more His Bad than even Round One was, courtesy of a “Groundbreaking. Revolutionary. Show-stopping” reinterpretation of what was up until this point te much more ambiguous and metaphorically named “Mental Affair” concept. Though it must be said, Scotty always has skewed a bit more towards the literal minded in his personal approach to things, so, y’know. That tracks. But regardless, the pattern remains consistent here, as once again, its not always easy to register on peoples’ radar as anything other than the Plus One when your newest paramour prides herself on being both the entire planning committee AND star attraction of Victoria’s Secret (assuming that said Secret is Secret Aims at World Domination) Presents: A Renaissance Faire. But in an evil and also kinky way. Except now with sixty percent less evil on account of how Emma’s reformed these days, but not a hundred percent less evil because she’s not like, REFORMED reformed, cuz that would be boring, eww, could you imagine, no, you couldn’t, because she won’t let you and she can do that, she’s that good at telepathy and that bad at boundaries. Still the same amount of kinky as before though, but like. That’s just about Strong Branding. After all, at the end of the day Emma Frost is above all else, a good businesswoman.

But yes, she is also a big fan of the Aesthetic, with that aesthetic being Her Whims On Steroids because like they say, go big or go home, and Emma Frost does not believe in going home when she can simply acquire your home instead. Hate the game, not the player. She didn’t make the rules, she just came to win. Point being, its hard to follow up an act like Jean-Who-Is-Sometimes-Phoenix-And-Sometimes-Dark-Phoenix-And-Oh-Hell-She-Cant-Even-Keep-Track-So-How-Could-Anyone-Else-Really, but say what you will about Emma’s wardrobe, she’s more concerned with clothing herself in unapologetic take no prisoners ambition, and as such, her being the follow-up to Scott’s epic romance with his childhood sweetheart turned literal cosmic embodiment of fire and passion, like.....this was never a big checkmark in the con side of a pro and con list for Emma. It was more like oh, yes, hello there, Challenge Absolutely Fucking Accepted.

Which, y’know, all the points to House Frost for showing spine and boy howdy, that’s a spine alright.....but at the same time, going head to head with someone who is classified as a galactic threat when people are deliberately low-balling her, like, for no other reason than you’re bored and your manicure appointment isn’t for another couple hours.....like that’s the kind of thing where it has to be pointed out that there were possibly alternative options worth considering somewhere in between ‘having no spine’ and ‘spiting cosmic entity who can kill you with her brain by stealing her man and saying come at me bro because like....my spine, let me show you it.”

But again, just to reiterate the premise here.....our thesis here today is that Scott Summers Gets a Bad Rap For Being Bland or Boring or Not Standing Out, But In Reality The Issue Is Just That All The People He Knows Are Truly Ridiculous People.

In other words, Scott Summers is no more the Everyman of the X-Men than any of his Truly Ridiculous Friends and Family.

Because an actual everyman would have bounced out of that madhouse way the fuck back in Chapter One: In Which Things Just Got Ridiculous.

Cut to Scott Summers, in contrast: *looks around, purses lips, weighs options* Nah. This is fine.