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lazycats-stuff · 4 months

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Please a Clark fic, where reader is a new intern adn Clark is just love struck. And he slowly starts to court (?) the reader, and at some point take him home for a home-cooked meal, where the reader meets Conner and Jon. I think Conner at first doesn't really like reader, but Jon immediately clings to reader. After some time Conner warms up to reader and they all become a happy family

Of course my dear anon. Some superfam sounds good right now. Also, I have decided to make (Y/N) from Gotham... It sounds good, trust me.

Summary: Clark likes (Y/N). Conner is suspicious.

Warnings: I don't think there's any... Fluff mostly.

" Morning Clark. " Lois said to him as she passed him to get some coffee. Clark simply nodded as he booted his computer to start up. He had a piece to write about Lex Luthor scandal which for once wasn't brought to light by the Justice League.

An anonymous whistleblower who contacted Daily Planet with a shit ton of damning evidence. Clark jumped on the said opportunity to expose Lex, both as Superman and Clark Kent.

" Working on the Lex thing? " She asked as she came back, leaning on the edge of his desk, glancing at the computer screen to check the progress. " Yes, it's great to see how he's slowly crumbling. The stock share prices are going down faster than our faith in humanity. " Clark said with a smile, making Lois chuckle.

" Yeah, it's truly satisfying. Also, I have some news for you Smallville. " She said, stopping to sip her warm coffee. Clark raised his brow, fixing his glasses as he leaned back in his chair, smoothing his pants out.

" What those might be Lois? " Clark asked, turning his chair to face her fully.

" We got an intern. Someone from Gotham it seems. His name is (Y/N) and he will work in this department. " Lois stated, lifting her cup of coffee as if she was silently saying finally.

" Oh really? " Clark asked, tilting his head in curiosity. " It seems that Perry has decided to throw us a bone. We could use a courier. " Clark joked and Lois chuckled.

It's nice to have an extra set of hands. " Also, did you say he was from Gotham? " Clark inquired and Lois nodded. Clark whistled quietly. Gotham people are often tougher and more direct and even more blunt.

Clark knew that very well, ahem, read Bruce.

" That will be a nice change of pace. Someone with tough skin. " Clark noted and Lois nodded.

" Now we have someone to take as a bodyguard when we go out. Everyone is afraid of Gotham people. " She joked, sipping more of her coffee before her eyes moved forward, right behind Clark. He turned his chair around to check what she was looking at.

She was looking at the new intern who entered with their boss, Perry White. The room fell silent as Perry stood with a tall guy, (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes in a suit, standing with a stoic look on his face. And there was a Gotham aura and vibe radiating from (Y/N).

Clark had to stifle a chuckle.

" Everyone, this is our new intern, his name is (Y/N). He transferred from Gotham. Be nice to him. I don't want chaos around here. As for you (Y/N), you'll be working with Kent. He is more than capable to show you the ropes. " Perry said and Clark raised his brow from his seat.

Being a mentor isn't new to him anymore, ever since Conner came as a clone and stepping up ever since then. And since Jon came into the picture, he had no choice but to really step it up as a father. Since the mom left...

Clark rubbed his forehead for a moment, then set his sight back on (Y/N). Clark looked him up and down subtly. He... He is drop dead gorgeous in Clark's eyes. Clark did have a few relationships with men in the past, but he was always more attracted to women.

But the tides have changed.

Clark has been struck with probably love at first sight. He never really felt like this before... So lovestruck. Oh Bruce would have laughed so hard at him in this situation...

Oh God and he is responsible for (Y/N) too? This won't be good in the slightest. He gulped quietly as Perry led (Y/N) to him and the office started bustling with activity again.

" This is Clark Kent (Y/N). Kent, you'll be making sure he gets the basics down since I'm sure Gotham Daily Planet is not up to standard with us. " Perry joked, making (Y/N) laugh.

Clark's heart did a few flips at the laughter. Oh dear God, (Y/N) is so damn adorable when he laughs. But he looks so damn tough too and it makes it a bit more difficult to read.

Gotham does make you more tough.

" Also, this is Lois. " Perry introduced and (Y/N) shook hands with her. Clark stood up and shook hands with (Y/N), whose hands were so soft. Oddly enough. For a Gothamite especially.

" Clark, nice to meet you. " Clark said with a firm handshake. (Y/N) nodded. " (Y/N), nice to meet you. " He said politely.

" Well, I'll take you around the office to show you around and then you can help Kent or whatever else he needs. " Perry said before he led (Y/N) away, telling him about the Daily Planet and how good the place is.

" You are in love Smallville. " Lois said behind her coffee mug making Clark sigh quietly.

She won't let this go.

" Don't you have some work Lois? " Clark asked her, clearly not in the mood to deal with her teasing. Lois simply snickered and raised her hand and mug in a way to show she surrenders and left to go to her desk, that was, coincidentally, right next to Clark's.

" This is will be fun. " Lois muttered under her breath, knowing fully well that Clark could hear her. Clark simply rolled his eyes. She was right, though, this was going to be fun. Clark listened intently to Perry and (Y/N)'s conversation. His super hearing is something that he can't just turn off anyway.

Might as well use it.

After a few months, Clark decided to start making his moves. He decided to start with bringing some coffee every morning to them both. (Y/N) was suspicious at first, the Gotham nature in him telling him to not trust because, again, Gotham makes you on guard all the time.

Especially when someone is nice to you. Maybe (Y/N) is a bit more cold, but every Gotham native is like that. If you try to be nice to them, they are a bit suspicious. Can you blame (Y/N)? But, Clark's ambition and patience had slowly been paying it off.

It started with small cups of coffee every morning to get the energy going for writing and editing articles. (Y/N)'s editing skills were insanely good and Clark was more than impressed the first time (Y/N) showed him the finished version.

Then, (Y/N) was being sent out on the field with a camera to capture events and what not. Perry justified with the saying, you are from Gotham, you'll be fine.

And that turned out to be true actually.

One day, while dropping off some photos at Perry's office, his face was bloody and it was clear that there was some sort of brawl or a fight. Clark and the rest of the office was concerned, but (Y/N) simply acted casually, as if nothing had happened to him.

The only thing he is said is, 'You should see the other guy.'

It made Clark think of Bruce and his nature. Tough Gotham nature.

But Clark had a lot of experience with that nature. Again, dealing with Bruce's nature made it easier to navigate (Y/N). And although (Y/N) and Bruce are two completely opposite people in every shape and form, it still gave Clark good points what not to do and what to do.

And slowly but surely, he did it.

He asked (Y/N) to come with him to his house, for some dinner. A nice good, old, home cooked meal. A recipe his mom sent him so he could impress (Y/N).

(Y/N) was pleasantly surprised and decided to say yes. As well, (Y/N) knew that Clark is a father. 2 boys, if he could judge from his framed photos on his desk. One younger and one older.

Conner and Jon if (Y/N) remembers correctly. Jon is younger and Conner is the older one. And (Y/N) remembered that Clark was a single parent.

So, (Y/N) decided to accept and say yes to the call, never saying no to a good, nice, homecooked meal. And Clark was a nice guy too so it wasn't a bad thing. He was cute too and (Y/N) slowly started to like him.

So, entering his place, he was greeted by Clark's sons, Jon and Conner. Jon is a bubbly personality, immediately clinging onto him. (Y/N) thought that he was adorable.

But Conner was a whole another story. He was more cold and calculating and clearly suspicious of (Y/N). (Y/N) respected it. Don't trust people that have just entered your life.

All in all, the dinner went well and Clark and (Y/N) went on a few dates and soon enough started dating seriously. Soon enough, after a few years, the two got married.

However, during that time, Conner and (Y/N) got more and more closer. It was a nice feeling and was rather emotional for them both. Clark was happy and soon enough, (Y/N) had two boys to call his sons, despite not being biologically related to them.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batman x male reader #superfamily #clark kent x male reader

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transvampireboyfriend · 1 year

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part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

#if there's one thing you should know about them is this: they are sooooo dumb <3 #steddie #steveddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things #.#i hope the car configuration isn't too confusing here #also i didn't tag the other ships bc they're so minimal and I don't wanna clog those tags #also this could be platonic. or it could be polycule. you decide :)#i might have a part two but don't tell #also if this by some curse this is seen by someone who was there when i acted like Eddie is acting here SHUT UP #this is fictionalized and NOT YOUR BUSINESS #steddie lake fic

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notjustjavierpena · 7 months

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I have recently watched scenes from a marriage with oscar isaac and my mind which connects everything with hubby javi immediately went to this:

imagine wife’s and javi’s friends are going through a divorce, there’s cheating m, miscommunication etc and just a very hard time.

I feel like Javi and Wife would have a conversation about this due to the proximity of it happening to their friends. One about trust and if they’re happy. It’s not about insecurity or anything just them both communicating effectively and giving the other reassurance that this is not on the cards for them.

I just value their relationship so much.

Reassess

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked your request slightly to fit my version of hubby and wife. Enjoy ❤️ Thanks so much for proofreading, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !!!

Summary: You and Javier’s friends are going through a divorce, and it suddenly makes you wonder about your own marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, talk about divorce, talk about cheating, brief descriptions of piv sex with creampie, hurt/comfort, love!, mention of pregnancy and pregnant reader, cuddling, kisses, Javier is a great husband and you are anxious

Word count: 1.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54352768

Reassess

Jonathan and Mira are getting a divorce. The news had been announced to you by Javier when he entered the dimly lit living room on a Thursday night, looking paler than a ghost after what you had wrongly assumed to be a same-as-always phone conversation about football, work and going out for a beer in the near future.

“No!” You had instinctively covered your mouth with your hand to suppress an animated gasp. Apparently, Mira had come clean about seeing another man a few days earlier and it only took shy of two days for their whole marriage to crumble. The thought was and is terrifying.

It seems to dampen the mood between you and your husband significantly. There are more pregnant silences, longer stares, more hurried kisses, and worried faces in the middle of your daily routines that become opportunities for reflection when doing something mundane as folding laundry. However, the elephant in the room becomes most unbearable when Javier rolls off of you after making love to you a week after the news hit.

He stares up at the ceiling and pants as he tries coming down from his high, reaching up to run his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. You shift on your side of the bed to turn your body towards him, and gently lay a hand on his chest, “That was really good.”

“Hm? What?” He replies, “Oh right, yeah.”

“Honey,” you furrow your brow, “I don’t think I particularly like having sex with you if you’re not here with me.”

“Lo siento (I’m sorry),” his eyes find yours, his voice is genuine, “I can’t stop thinking about Jon and Mira.”

Your eyes soften at that. It is nice to know that he is as shaken by this happening as you are, and in such close proximity to your own marriage too even if it technically has nothing to do with you. It suddenly hits why it has been so hard to start up a conversation about it.

“Me either,” you sigh and scratch his chest gently with your nails and lay your head on his shoulder. He takes hold of your wrist and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in soothing circles, “I can’t believe they ended up like that, who would have thought?”

“And Ava?” Javier sounds devastated and turns his head toward yours so he can rest his lips in your hair.

“She must be so confused,” you mumble back, lost in thought. Ava is Mira and Jonathan’s daughter who sometimes has play dates with Inés, and to think that she has to deal with her parents not being able to work as a couple, especially since Mira apparently had to go sleep with someone else, is a scenario that you find nauseating when your brain automatically starts imagining your own children in the same scenario. You don’t think Lucas would ever forgive you if you caused that much hurt to his father, “I don’t know what Mira was thinking. Ava has to deal with her mom having hurt her dad. Why would she put her through that?”

“Jonathan said she’s in love with this new guy,” Javier argues.

“I suppose sometimes you just fall in love with someone else,” you say without any emotion in your voice except for maybe a hint of disgust.

“Are you happy? With me?” The question has been looming over the both of you since the news hit. It was only a matter of time before one of you would start reassessing your own marriage.

You lift your head up to look Javier straight in the eyes, and even if you knew it was coming, you still feel taken aback by how much it makes your guts turn to even be told to consider it. The answer is so clear, “What? I—“

“That’s not an immediate yes,” he furrows his brow in concern.

“Don’t be absurd,” you say back, “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“But do you ever worry about us?” He continues.

“This is the part where you say you love me too,” you joke without much humor in your voice.

“Are you kidding? I’m nothing without you,” he lifts the hand you still have on his chest to kiss your palm, “Te amo tanto (I love you so much) but I need you to answer the question.”

“I don’t ever worry about us, no,” you answer truthfully and Javier visibly relaxes, “I know you. I trust you. It doesn’t even occur to me that I could have anything different in my life, you know? It feels like I would always have found you somewhere else if not here.”

“Perhaps they looked for something else when things became routine,” he suggests, resting your hand against his cheek.

“It’s never routine for me to tell you I love you,” you tell him with a little smile, “There’s no going back to the way things were before you.”

“The idea of having anything else but this,” he trails off for a second, weighing his words and reaching out for you with his free hand. He cups the back of your knee to pull your leg over his naked body, “It’s just not in the cards for me. I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you.”

“Is this code for you’re stuck with me?” You crawl closer to kiss him on the mouth and tighten the leg around him, “Hm?”

“Sí (yes), you’re stuck with me, baby,” he says against your lips.

“Do you promise that?” You whisper after pulling back a little, smiling softly as you look down at his mouth. He initiates another kiss after nodding.

You kiss for a while without rushing it, deeply until you share each breath in your intense embrace. Despite just having had sex with him fifteen minutes ago, you want him again in a way that has him as hard as when you first got together. He fucks you open slowly with you on your back, makes you come on his cock with an almost pained tone in your whimper. He is everywhere on you, soaking you in love. The way he gasps along with you as he comes inside of you has your heart pounding in your chest.

“No quiero a nadie más que a ti (I don’t want anyone else other than you),” he says when basking in the afterglow. However, you have already gotten out of bed to get cleaned up in the bathroom. In contrast to your husband, your afterglow is replaced by anxiety that you have just promised isn’t there.

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you say while peeing with the door open. Javier moves on the bed to be able to look at you.

“We won’t, te lo prometo (I promise you that),” he is quick to answer. You try to give him a smile but he notices the way you falter, “Anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

“They used to be so happy,” you sigh deeply and get up after finishing your business. You move to the sink and start washing your hands, your back suddenly towards him, “Makes me wonder if we're strong enough to weather anything.”

You hear the weight of him shift on the mattress and a second later, the soft pads of his feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He is behind you, looking at you in the mirror. You feel grateful for the sincerity in his eyes.

“Baby,” he tuts, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. One of his hands goes down to lay on your stomach right below your belly button. You have just started to show, and the both of you have already talked about how early it is that your belly has started protruding but none of you have any clue why yet as you haven’t had your first scan.

Javier kisses your bare shoulder, “This is my life, and I love it, and I would never hurt you… I trust you not to hurt me too.”

You silently turn off the tap to dry your hands but Javier doesn’t let you move. He lifts your chin so he can stare at you in the mirror, “I need you to trust me when I say that ten years with you have only made me want ten, twenty, thirty more. I love you. I choose you every day. Jonathan and Mira didn’t choose each other. We’re not them.”

“I love you too,” you shake your hands dry instead and then turn in your husband’s arms. You hug him close and he walks you out of the bathroom whilst still holding you tightly.

“Three kids so far,” he reminds you whilst guiding you back to bed, “A decade down the line. We must be doing something right.”

“But what if—“

“You worry too much, mi vida (my life),” he says and smacks your ass as you crawl back into your bed. You glare back at him but he just snickers while crawling in too, “Get comfortable and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you say truthfully.

“Of course, you can,” Javier joins you under the covers. He lays down close to you and without saying a word, reaches out to gently and repeatedly stroke his hand over your hair. The warmth of his palm soothes your worry, each caress easing away the weight in your chest.

You wonder if Mira left because Jonathan didn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Javier has done it for ten years. This fact makes sleep find you easily.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up.

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well?

DINGUS: so it seemed.

ARGYLE 😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour.

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe.

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance?

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next?

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve.

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference.

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first.

He’s making no move to get up off the floor.

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.”

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through.

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious.

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you.

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion.

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?”

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.”

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything.

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?”

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.”

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.”

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.”

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms.

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush?

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively.

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.”

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.”

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit.

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?”

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better.

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.”

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.”

“Then consider this your notice.”

Is this what I had always been missing out on?

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning.

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever.

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?”

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.”

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.”

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you.

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there.

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home.

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really.

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions.

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation.

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.”

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?”

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?”

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.”

“What have you guys been doing?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.”

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?”

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says.

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”

“Am I?”

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder.

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.”

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.”

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.”

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.”

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet.

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.”

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket.

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.”

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over.

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now.

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around.

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.”

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night.

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly.

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center.

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well.

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it.

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches.

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now.

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now.

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.”

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.”

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.”

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?”

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t.

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing.

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it.

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to.

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave.

Eddie’s quick to follow.

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure.

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C.

Leaving now is not leaving forever.

But it sure does feel like it.

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave.

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you.

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?”

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?”

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck.

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.”

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you.

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Time. You two needed time apart.

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet.

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away.

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful.

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went.

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart.

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.”

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.”

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat.

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind?

That wasn’t really complicated.

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.”

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes.

You wish you would have kissed him.

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-”

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend.

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours.

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be.

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems.

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted.

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you.

Rough’s a good way to put it.

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it.

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend.

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy.

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress.

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie.

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along.

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless.

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration.

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again.

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two. And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s.

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two.

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him.

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time.

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to.

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears.

EDDIE: Make it home okay?

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now.

YOU: yep. my roommate just left.

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember?

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud.

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone.

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams.

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care.

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened.

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now.

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds.

EDDIE: Ah. I see.

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over?

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems.

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down.

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours.

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos.

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you.

YOU: About what?

EDDIE: I’m not home right now.

Your heart clenches.

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not.

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere.

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is.

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step.

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you.

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him.

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues.

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist.

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.”

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter.

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool.

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?”

“Start over?” you question wearily.

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.”

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves.

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.”

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.”

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you.

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss.

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?”

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.”

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home.

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.”

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #this feels so surreal to post jesus christ #thank you guys genuinely for all the love #i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday #i just #wow #yeah #i did it #again #i finished a fucking fic

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the-one-and-only-duckduckgo · 5 months

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I (finally) finished Season one during my 7 hour long train ride, and since nobody asked, here's a new summary.

The Magnus Archives but I've finished season one (and that didn't help with the confusion)

There's Jon. He's an Archivist, and he got that anxiety rizz™

He also sounds like his life would crumbie in pieces if he doesn't have a seventh cup of coffee before the sun rises.

I can relate.

One of the causes of his anxiety seems to be his least favourite colleague, Martin.

Martin is described as unqualified, suspected to be a ghost and sent into various deadly situations.

He also sleeps in Jalapeño's bed.

I FUCKING LOVE GERARD KEAY

Everyone works in a modern remake of the Library of Alexandria, which would be very cool if there weren't a lot of murderous creatures.

(there are a lot of murderous creatures)

And worms. Would we still love them if they were human? Probably not.

Everything is ruled by a guy named Elias Bouchard. Everyone told me that he's nice.

In what world is a guy named fucking Bouchard nice?

Jane Prentiss is spreading the worm agenda.

SHE DESERVED MORE THAN THAT HELP IS THERE A CHARITY WHERE I CAN GIVE HER A VIRTUAL HUG???

Michael the eldritch horror is very lovely.

OH AND I DIDN'T TELL YOU BUT JALAPEÑO USES THE TAPE RECORDER CAUSE THE STATEMENTS DON'T WORK ON COMPUTER. THERE'S A REASON BEHIND ALL THAT.

That also means that there are statements that can be recorded on the computer and that we therefore don't see. I want to know what they're about.

#JusticeForSasha2k24

I am still lost in the English names.

Gerard Keay still burns books.

But that's ok, cause they're evil books from BLOODY JÜRGEN LEITNER I HATE JÜRGEN LEITNER DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THIS USELESS PIECE OF SHITTY OLD PARCHMENT WHEN HE WAS BORN HIS MOTHER CRIED AND SHOULD HAVE STRANGLED HIM I WISH HE GOES TO HELL ALTHOUGH NO HE WOULD RUIN THE GAY PARTY HAPPENING THERE I WISH HE DISAPPEARED IN THE COFFIN WE SEE AT THE BEGINNING AND WENT ON A CRUISE IN PETER LUKAS' BOAT GOD I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO SAY ABOUT THIS LITERARY DISHONOUR. Fuck you, Leitner.

Hmm, yeah. Sorry. Where was I?

Season one's over, still no trace of the queer rep I was teased with.

Although, that may be a good thing, given the fact that as soon as a gay appears, they get killed/ replaced/ vanished by by some antique object.

Does that mean antique objects are homophobes?

Although these antiques come from Salesa's shop. Perhaps Salesa's the real straight supremacist here.

Selling dangerous items seems like a rentable activity tho. I should do the same.

Starting from now. Does anyone want a totally-not-illegal coffin? Antique dolls? You get your money back if they kill you.

So...uh...yeah. Good show. Amazing sound effects. Watch it. Wahoo.

#duckposting #the magnus archives #tma #discovery of the tma universe #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jane prentiss #gerry keay #why is he called gerry by the fandom?#guess I'll find out one day #seriously listen to tma it's very great

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wandascrush · 9 days

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The family

Summary: Your family is very different from the Romanoffs. Maybe that’s okay.

Warnings: secrecy, criminal activity, mafia inuendos, kissing, lmk if I forgot anything! A/N: This part kinda serves as family background context

Family, family, family. You love em’ or you hate em’. When you really thought about it, your family couldn’t be any more different from Natasha’s. You came from a middle class family, while the Romanoffs were so removed from that life. You two weren’t different just in terms of tax brackets- no, the culture was different too. You had an older brother, your mother, and your father. Nothing really out of the ordinary, and you had family spread all throughout New York- extremely tight knit. Something the Romanoffs didn’t seem like they had.

The business of your two families, that couldn’t be more different. Natasha’s father was the head of the NYPD, an upholding citizen of the law. Your father- well, he ran a corner store with your mother, and as much as all of that was true and honest, they also ran a background business with your Uncles. You had always assumed it was petty goods or something minuscule, unimportant. That was until your favorite Uncle randomly got taken away one Tuesday afternoon at the dry cleaners he ran, and your family quickly cut off all ties with him. As if he ceased to exist. Their business affairs became much more secretive, organized, and quiet after that. That was the first time you ever felt that maybe the underground business your family ran wasn’t so unimportant…or underground. All of that was nearly three years ago, and now you understood the scope of what your family had going on- or that is, at least you thought you understood the scope of what they had going on. Either way, you came from a line of hard workers, entrepreneurs, and a loving home. Not perfect, not always pretty, and not shiny, but there was love in it. And you knew that. The sharp, young mind that you had would have never considered anyone in your family criminals- like truly bad criminals. Real criminals. Unfortunately, that’s not what Natasha’s father, Jon, saw when you stepped foot in their home. He knew all about your little family and their businesses, both above and underground. He just didn’t know what exactly they were doing underground, but he heard whispers of it from colleagues, friends, customers.

Natasha’s father is a man of few words, but his presence commands respect and fear. He’s not the type to show affection openly, and when he does speak, his words carry the weight of unspoken threats. You know he’s not the dad that kisses his daughters goodnight, or watches as they descend the stairs before their first school dance. He’s the type of dad to give you a firm pat on the shoulder, and go back to his study. Meanwhile Natasha’s mother was soft spoken, nice- but not kind, and distant. She was in two places at once when she talked to you, never quite giving her full attention.

On the other hand, your family was so warm, like a fireplace. Your dad was funny and so protective, but sometimes he could be so angry. Sometimes, he scared you. You now know he’s involved in something more than just the legitimate businesses he fronts; the hushed conversations in the study, the late-night visitors who never stay long, the subtle nods of acknowledgment he receives from men who walk with a certain air of authority—they all point to a darker truth. That never stopped him from being a good dad though, your dad. Your mother is equally enigmatic, a woman of grace and elegance who runs the household like a queen. She’s fiercely protective of you, but there’s always a sense of something unspoken, something lurking just beneath the surface of her calm demeanor. And her love for you two is fierce beyond belief. Then there’s your older brother, who’s already being groomed to take over the family business. He’s charming and charismatic, the kind of man who can talk his way out of anything, but you’ve started to see the darker side of him too—the cold, calculating stare, the ruthless determination to protect the family’s interests at any cost. As deep as your love runs for them, sometimes you wonder if you’re safe. Really safe.

Through you and Natasha’s “friendship,” or whatever it was, there were unspoken rules that lingered between you two: 1. Don’t get caught. 2. Never be affectionate in public. And perhaps the most impotent rule of all- 3. Our families can never know. She explained all these rules to you while sitting on your lap in the attic, kissing you between every rule.

#natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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cherrrydragon · 1 month

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE TALK(S)

← back to chapter list

SUMMARY ↳ You get some insight from some friends. And not friends. It's you. Despite everything, it's been you. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none wc: 3.5k

New York welcomes Spinnerette back with open arms.

Several articles span over night, questioning the disappearance and sudden return. They’ll have to keep questioning, because there will be no official statement from you. You’re Spinnerette, not Tony Stark, aka Iron Man.

One of the first things you do is go pick up your order at Delmar’s. It’s been far too long since you’ve tasted heaven.

Pepper comes up with a simple cover story as to why [Name] [L.Name] was gone from public eye. It’s elegant in its simplicity: during the time [Name] [L.Name] was absent from the public eye, they were undertaking an extended philanthropic research expedition abroad, focusing on humanitarian efforts and technological research in developing countries in order to prepare for when they eventually take over as CEO to Stark Industries.

Delmar doesn’t ask too many questions, anyway. He only says how he’s glad you’re back and gives you your order.

You happily munch on it as you watch New York’s sunset. The view from Avengers Tower is always nice. It casts a warm, golden glow over the skyline, a picturesque reminder of why you love this city so much. The gentle breeze carries the distant sounds of traffic.

“Why are you having these thoughts?”

Wanda’s voice is soft but perceptive, her presence a comforting familiarity. She moves gracefully, even in her casual pajamas, and joins you by the edge, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“What thoughts?” you ask, knowing it’s futile. You can try and pretend all you want, but the heart wants what the heart wants. Even without Wanda’s powers, she could’ve easily figured you out.

Wanda turns her head slightly, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing look. “You know exactly what thoughts,” she says gently.

You sigh, taking another bite of your sandwich, buying yourself a moment to gather your thoughts. The flavors are as delightful as you remembered, but they do little to distract from the weight of Wanda’s words.

The sky turns darker, with the sun sinking lower, casting long shadows across the city. Wanda waits patiently, her gaze never leaving you. The silence stretches, comfortable and familiar, but charged with unspoken words.

"I missed this place," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I missed the people, the energy... but…" you hesitate, unsure if you want to voice the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Wanda reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "It's okay to feel conflicted," she says softly. "You’ve been through much. It's natural to question things."

You nod slowly, absorbing Wanda's words. The city below seems to hum with a life of its own, oblivious to the inner turmoil tugging at your thoughts. You take another bite of your sandwich.

"I guess I just didn't expect everything to feel so... different," you admit quietly, gazing out at the skyline. "I thought coming back would be like slipping into an old pair of shoes, but it's more like trying to break in new ones. I got so used to life over there.”

Wanda nods, humming. Her expression softens, voice gentle. “Jon. And Damian,” she echoes softly. “They’ve been on your mind since you came back.” You nod slowly, acknowledging Wanda's insight. Her ability to grasp the complexities of your thoughts is both comforting and unnerving at times.

"Yeah," you admit, a faint smile touching your lips. "They have." You pause, considering how much to share. "It's like... being torn between two worlds," you continue, your gaze drifting back to the skyline where the last vestiges of daylight paint the buildings in shades of amber. "I've grown close to them in ways I didn't anticipate. Jon's warmth and openness, Damian's... well, his complexities," you chuckle softly.

Wanda listens intently, her presence a calming presence amidst the bustling cityscape. "It sounds like they've left quite an impression," she remarks softly, eyeing your bracelet.

"They have," you affirm, a hint of wistfulness in your tone. "And now, being back here, it's like I'm standing at a crossroads, unsure where to go."

Wanda's eyes are filled with empathy. "Sometimes, the heart knows things before the mind can make sense of them.”

You look at her. "I remember when Vision and I were navigating similar feelings," Wanda begins softly, her voice carrying a nostalgic undertone. "He was... different, not just because of what he was, but because of how he made me feel." Her gaze drifts to the skyline, memories playing across her features like shadows dancing in the fading light.

"It was challenging, trying to reconcile our differences and the worlds we came from," she continues, her tone thoughtful. "But in the end, what mattered most was the connection we shared, the understanding that despite everything, we chose each other."

Her words resonate with you, echoing your own internal struggles. "Did it ever get easier?" you ask quietly, seeking reassurance in her experience.

Wanda smiles softly, expression tinged with fondness. "Not easier, but... clearer," she replies, her gaze returning to meet yours. "Love has a way of guiding us through uncertainty, showing us what truly matters." You don’t know about love exactly, but maybe…

"It's like they've opened doors I didn't even know were there," you confess, a sense of revelation settling over you. "And now, I'm standing here, wondering which ones I should go through.”

Wanda nods understandingly, a soothing presence in the midst of your introspection. "The paths we choose often define us," she muses softly. "But sometimes, it's not about choosing one thing over another, but finding a way to integrate both into who you are."

“What would we do without you, Wanda?” you say in lieu of thanks.

She returns your smile warmly. "Anytime."

With a final glance at the city below, you finish your sandwich, savoring the flavors that remind you of home. Whatever lies ahead, you know you'll face it head on.

You find Tony tinkering away in his lab (because where else would he be?) He looks up as you enter, a small grin spreading across his face. “Pass me that wrench, will you?” You pass Tony the wrench, settling into a comfortable silence as he continues his work. The hum of machinery and occasional sparks fill the air, a familiar backdrop to your thoughts.

Tony mumbles lightly, adjusting a few components on his latest project. "Pepper told me about the cover story," he mentions casually. "Philanthropic research expedition, huh? Not bad."

You chuckle softly. "Pepper has a knack for making things sound believable," you comment, recalling how she effortlessly crafted the narrative to explain your absence.

Tony grins mischievously. "She's got a way with words," he agrees, his gaze flicking back to his work. "So, how was it, really? Did you make friends with Superman?”

“No, I made friends with his son,” you jest.

“Well, of course you did,” he nods seriously. “You have a certain effect on people.”

You place your arms on his desk, leaning. “You know, you were my dad there.”

Tony looks up, eyes boring into yours. For a moment it’s silent. “Made up an identity for myself. Had to, of course. Listed you as my rich dad who was on vacation and had left little ole me all by myself.”

"Ah, playing the absent but wealthy father role, I see. I hope I lived up to your expectations as the neglectful billionaire." He leans back, crossing his arms with mock seriousness. “Though a vacation does sound nice.”

You grin. "They bought it though, surprisingly enough. I think they were more curious about figuring out if I’m Spinnerette or not than my supposed absent father." You lean back. “They did, by the way. But it all worked out.”

Tony chuckles, a hint of pride in his expression. "Well, that's my kid—always keeping them guessing."

“You’ll also be pleased to know that I did a "Tony Stark" while I was there,” you grin, coming up next to him.

“That’s not good.”

“I remade your new element.”

Tony raises a brow, but doesn’t look all that surprised. “You’re becoming just like me. Pepper won’t like that.”

“I was gonna use it to power my way home, put it in my watch somehow, but I didn’t get to use it,” you shrug. “Figure it’ll help their world, anyhow. The blueprints you left in the suit really helped.”

“Gotta take care of my own,” he shrugs.

You smile, the warmth of familiarity easing the lingering tensions from earlier introspection. "You did," you reply sincerely, a fondness in your voice. "It was... comforting, having you there in spirit."

As you watch Tony continue his tinkering, a thought tugs at your mind. You take a deep breath "Tony, can I ask you something?" you venture, breaking the silence.

"Shoot," he replies, not looking up from his work but clearly attentive.

"How do you know when you're ready to make a decision that could change everything?" you ask, your voice laced with uncertainty.

Tony looks up from his workbench, his expression thoughtful. He sets down his tools and turns to face you fully, his gaze assessing yet warm.

"You're asking the big questions, aren't you?" Tony remarks, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Decision-making is a blend of gut instinct, logic, and experience. You weigh the risks, consider the consequences, but ultimately, it comes down to what feels right deep down."

You nod, absorbing his words. "But what if both paths feel right in different ways?" you press further, needing clarity on the conflict within you.

“Why should it be two paths? It could be just one.”

Oh. Hm. Guess so.

“Sometimes life’s about finding a way to blend them together, creating a new path that's uniquely yours."

You ponder his words, the gears in your mind turning as you consider the implications. "So, instead of choosing between them, I should look for how they complement each other?" you venture, seeking to clarify your thoughts.

Tony nods approvingly. "Exactly. Integration rather than separation. You're a smart cookie, kid," he says with a wink. “Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

His words echo Wanda's earlier sentiments, reinforcing the idea that perhaps the answers you seek lie within your own intuition. You smile gratefully at Tony, feeling a bit of the weight lift off your shoulders. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Anytime, kid.”

The two of you fall into a companionable silence, the hum of machinery and occasional banter filling the air. As Tony returns to his tinkering and you reflect on your journey, a sense of belonging washes over you, grounding you in the familiar embrace of family, wherever they may be.

Later, you leave Tony’s lab, a sense of clarity guiding your steps as you navigate through the halls of Avengers Tower. Thoughts of Jon and Damian linger in your mind, their presence like gentle echoes urging you forward.

You find yourself drawn to the training room, a sanctuary of sorts where you’ve honed your skills and found solace in the rhythm of combat. The familiar scent of sweat and metal greets you as you enter, the training mats beckoning invitingly under the soft glow of overhead lights.

You start with basic stretches, letting muscle memory guide your movements as you flow through familiar routines. Each stretch and strike brings a sense of familiarity, a reminder of the strength and determination that brought you here.

As you spar with imaginary opponents, the echoes of Wanda’s words linger in your mind. Love, uncertainty, and the paths that lie ahead—all intertwined in a tapestry of choices and possibilities. In the midst of your training, Jon’s warmth and Damian’s complexities come into sharper focus. Their presence in your life has been unexpected yet undeniable, each offering a different perspective and a unique connection that resonates deeply within you.

You spar with renewed vigor, channeling your thoughts and emotions into each movement. The clang of fists against pads and the sound of your own breath become a cadence, a rhythmic heartbeat of determination and contemplation. Hours pass unnoticed, lost in the flow of training and introspection. By the time you finish, exhaustion mingles with a sense of satisfaction.

A week passes. You find yourself hanging out in one of the numerous lounges at Spider-HQ. You and Hobie wrangled some consoles, bean bags, fairy lights and other cozy things in (in spite of Miguel's exasperations) and dubbed this specific one yours. It's a place where you can unwind and escape the responsibilities that come with being the Spider.

Gwen, Hobie and Pav have taken to playing a ferocious game of Mario Kart. You and all your kindness have decided to help Miles with his Spanish homework. Miles listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions or sharing anecdotes about his latest escapades.

You sit down next to Miles, flipping open the textbook with a grin. "Alright, buckle up Miles.. ¿Listo? you ask cheerfully, ready to dive into the conjugations and vocabulary with him.

Miles chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, thanks for helping out with this. Spanish isn't my strongest subject."

You tsk. “Shameful.” He shoves you playfully in retaliation. As you guide Miles through the homework, laughter and banter fill the air, mingling with the sounds of Mario Kart battles and friendly debates over strategy. It's a relaxed atmosphere, a welcome break from the weightier decisions and reflections of the past week.

You sigh eventually, leaning your face into your hand. “How do you do it, Miles?”

“I don’t,” he scoffs, thinking you're referring to the Spanish. “That’s why you’re here.”

You snort, sliding away his assignment. “I mean, how is it so easy for you to just… be you?”

Miles looks at you quizzically, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Being me? It's not always easy, you know," he replies with a hint of sincerity beneath his playful tone. "But I guess I just try to focus on what matters to me, you know? Like family, friends, and doing what's right."

You nod thoughtfully, considering his words. "Yeah, I get that," you say, a small smile forming. "It's about staying true to yourself, even when things get complicated."

"Exactly!" Miles exclaims, his enthusiasm infectious. "You've got to figure out what works for you and roll with it. I mean, look at you—you've got this whole dual life thing down don’t you?”

You chuckle softly, a hint of self-deprecation in your tone. "Maybe not always as smoothly as I'd like."

"But you're doing it," Miles insists, his gaze earnest. "And that's what counts. You're making it work. Just, do your own thing,” he trails off, looking at Gwen. It’s no secret that there is something going on between them.

Well, if that is testament enough, then what is?

“...There’s a first time for everything.”

Later, as the night winds down and your friends begin to disperse, you linger in the lounge for a moment of quiet contemplation. With a final glance around the room, you rise to your feet.

There is one more person you’d like to talk to.

This New York isn’t so different from your own. It looks the same, sounds the same, and feels the same. You even spot a Delmar's while you swing around. The nighttime lights blur into streaks as you move. The rhythm of your movements, the thwip of your webs, and the distant sounds of the city create a symphony of familiarity.

You land gracefully on a rooftop, taking a moment to survey the skyline. There’s an Avengers Tower, standing tall and proud in the distance, a beacon of strength. As you catch your breath, you feel a presence nearby—a silent observer, familiar and comforting.

familiar

“Never thought I’d see you here,” they hum. Coming to a stop beside. The spider symbol on their chest is the same since you last saw it. When they visited you to give you the catalyst back in the other universe.

The Spider that threw you there in the first place.

Strange times, huh?

“I guess you found your way?” they ask, fiddling with their web-shooters.

“I guess I did,” you hum. You gaze at them for a moment, the shared history and intertwined destinies palpable between you.

“So, to what do I owe the visit? Not that I’m not grateful that you’re not body-slamming me on sight, because I am.” That gets a chuckle out of you, and they seem to relax a little.

“I’m not so angry these days,” you explain. “Other things on my mind and all.”

“Fair enough,” they concede, their tone softening. They lean against the ledge beside you, their gaze fixed on the city below. “Seems like you've been through… a lot,” they observe quietly, their voice carrying a hint of understanding.

You nod. Silence settles between you, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. You study their profile, noticing the subtle shifts in their demeanor, the echoes of shared experiences between your worlds.

“I’m sorry,” they finally say, their voice tinged with genuine remorse. “For everything that happened back then.”

You turn to them, meeting their gaze with a mix of forgiveness and acceptance. “I know,” you reply softly, acknowledging the weight of their words. “We both made choices, good and bad. It’s... part of who we are.”

“As Spiders?” they question hands reaching up to hook under their mask.

“As Spiders,” you agree, eyes watching as their mask slips up.

It’s you.

Despite everything, it’s been you.

Your double, or perhaps you can call them your alternate counterpart, nods in understanding, their expression mirroring the mix of determination and conflict you feel within yourself.

“I’ll be damned,” you mutter as your own suit gives away to reveal your face.

“I suspected, when we had that talk. The one where you were probably gonna kill me,” they chuckle softly. “You said you were the only [Name], and it could’ve just been a dumb coincidence…”

“Dumb coincidences don’t really happen to us.”

They shake their head. “No, they don’t.”

You lean against the ledge, feeling tired all of a sudden. “So, who is it? Who captures the heart of [Name] [L.Name]? An MJ? Gwen Stacy? Black Cat?” Maybe you secretly like to suffer, and that’s why you ask.

They snort, head hanging. “Not sure who they are, but since you're asking…”

“...there’s these guys,” they grin softly, sheepishly, “named Jon and Damian.”

And your will completely gives away.

“Jon’s real sweet, complete cutie. Ball of sunshine, and really pretty eyes. Damian’s a rich piece of work, but he’s honest and loyal. Also really pretty eyes.”

You look into their eyes, wide and disbelieving. “Are they… so do… Superboy and Robin exist here?”

They look at you confused. “Batman? Superman?” you implore. “Not even.. the comics?”

They purse their lips and shake their head. “They’re just normal guys,” they mutter softly.

Your counterpart's words hang in the air, mingling with the cool breeze that sweeps across the rooftop. You can't help but laugh softly, shaking your head in disbelief. "Can’t believe it," you mutter, a smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m the one who isn’t normal,” they smile dryly. “They didn’t know anything about me until I got back. They were so worried sick, and I realized how much they care about me. What better time to tell them everything?”

“And it was worth telling them?”

“I love them, of course it was,” they shrug, like it’s just that simple. “They see me now, as both [Name] and Spinnerette. I wouldn’t give that for anything.”

You feel a surge of warmth and hope at their words, realizing that perhaps your own path can lead to a similar sense of acceptance and belonging. "It's good to hear that it worked out for you," you say sincerely.

Your counterpart smiles, a glimmer of understanding in their eyes. "It can work out for you too.”

You guess no one would know you better than you.

“Thanks,” is all you say.

“Anytime,” is all they say, nodding at you with a gentle smile before shooting a web swinging away into the night, disappearing amidst the glowing cityscape.

You remain on the rooftop for a while longer, lost in thought. The skyline stretches before you, a tapestry of lights and shadows that mirror the complexities of your own life. The pieces of a puzzle are slowly coming together, guiding you towards a path that feels uniquely yours.

With renewed determination, you take to the skies once more, letting the rhythm of your swings carry you forward. The night air is crisp and alive with possibility, each movement a step towards embracing yourself and your desires.

As you land on the familiar (familiar, but not yours) balcony of Avengers Tower, you take a moment to savor the view. The city stretches out beneath you, a testament to home. You made it back to a place that feels like home, where friendships and connections intertwine to create a tapestry of support and understanding.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. Jon and Damian are waiting for you.

“Trust yourself and go for it, [Name].”

“I’m ready,” you whisper to yourself, a quiet affirmation that echoes in the night.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

You input a location into your Web-watch.

"It can work out for you too.”

You step into the bright amalgamation of light.

notes: does that parallel i mentioned in chap 14 make sense now? lol

#damian wayne x reader #dc x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #superboy x reader

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pumpkinstrawbrew · 9 months

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*.of all base passions, fear is most accursed.*

(i think, that one of those reasons why i always adored the scarecrow, even as a kid, not only bc of his horror aestetics, but also bc....fear is generally such a facinzting topic. such a vivid, mundane, yet awfully powerful thing. an' jonathan seems to view himself as both the master n' the slave of said emotion. or more so, he claims that he used to be overpowered by it as jonathan crane, but the scarecrow is the one, who holds it within his palm. an' i mean, both of those things are true an' co-exist. but in this instance, i only took the set-ups, where he's a scared, panicked lil animal. just how i like him, aside from him being absolutely nuts and' vicious as hell. bc i very much love those set-ups too!

but ahh, both drawings weren't planned. like not in a way, they are now at least. i was doodling idli an' sorta wanted to draw some sketchy spooked jon, then somehow other jons came into existence lol. so i just made a collage of them. drawing scarecrow an' scarebat stuff is cathartic for me. i just had to commit an' finish them. an' then make another art, just bc it felt right. or more like, i drew jonathan all distressed an' spooked, an' wanted to give him a comfort after being kinda mean to him. an' ah, yeah well….about that. i guess, one can say, that i kinda did it, but it still looks like a nightmare lmao. aka jon's main nightmare, where he associates batman with headless horseman. but it *batman* gives him a bit of comfort this time. it's kinda shippy, but also kinda not fully? as a shipper, i naturally see it as a nod to my otp, but honestly, this also can be just that. the bat being nice to jon, bc he's depressed an' intoxicated by fear an' mumbling things under his breath. at this point, it's my set-in-stone hc, that batman babysits him sometimes, when he's like this. so if i will draw it for like, third time at some point….then, i will draw it for third time, yea.

bc shippy or not, i just want bruce to pat poor sackhead on the shoulder, since he literally have no one to provide him any comfort / sympathy / pity, like ever. an' bruce can also finally see someone, whose life sucks way more than his own, so it's a win'win. not to mention, that batman's saviour complex prob always hella confused around jonathan. like, he's gotta smack him in the face, cuz' jon is evil, but he's also so sad an' kinda deplorable, that bruce wanna *or gonna* lecture his bullies for him lol.)

#batman comics #jonathan crane #scarecrow #batman rogues #batman is kinda here too but y'know #slight scarebat #brew draws

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reareaotaku · 4 months

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Love in High Places

Summary: You never wanted to choose between your two friends, but for some reason it seems like they want to have your attention on them Tw: Clingy Jon, Best friends fight, Mostly Damian x Reader, Unrequited love? Taglist: @6000-fandoms, @eros-kiss, @lucy0976, @crustyowos, @wtvbabes Part I: Superboy vs Robin | Pt III: Apple of My Eye

You may not have always been the brightest, as you were homeschooled by woman who didn't know much about Earth, you still could tell something was off with your friends. They were acting different. You had originally thought that maybe they just missed you or they had changed a little; it had been a year since you last seen them, but this... This was not them.

---

You sat on the roof, before taking a deep breath and running a hand through your hair. You had finally escaped Jon's hold and were now alone. He had been so clingy lately, and while you missed him, it was starting to drive you a little crazy. It didn't help that he had just made a scene at a party.

"But you've been alone for a year? Why can't we just stay like this a little longer?"

You sighed, before looking at the party goers, some of which were now focusing on you and Jon. "Jon, can we talk about this later?" You whispered, hoping that he'd drop it- But he didn't.

He frowns, his eyebrows scrunching together. "What? You don't want to talk about it? What is it? What do you want to talk about? Tell me- Don't make me wait- I've waited so long, Y/n." He practically demanded in an accusing tone, as if you were the bad guy for leaving to train.

You sigh, rubbing your temple, "People are beginning to stare, Jon."

"Let them! What's the matter? Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're being so clingy- Just leave me the fuck alone!" You quickly covered your mouth when the words came out of your mouth. You hadn't meant it in that way- But it was too late. The room was quiet and people were starting to stare and whisper. Jon's face looked as if you had just told him his mother died. And instead of apologizing, you quickly left, pushing your way through the crowd, hoping he didn't follow you.

You scrunched your eyes together. You had only been back a few days and it seems you already ruined the relationship with one of your closest friends. Though, before you could dwell on it anymore, you heard footsteps. You quickly stood up and looked around, your eyes scanning everything.

You felt a presence behind you and quickly grabbed them, before pounding them into the hard tiled roof-tops.

"God, it's just me, Y/n."

You sighed, letting go, when realizing it was just Damian.

"What's got you in such a jumpy mood?" He already knew the answer. Jon had called him when you left the party, begging Damian to find you and talk some sense into you.

"I'm sorry." You say, rubbing your face. "It's been... a rough night."

"I heard."

You groan, leaning your head back and looking at the night sky. You couldn't see the stars because of the terrible pollution in Gotham, but you could imagine what the sky might look like. It was one of the things you hated about Gotham- Besides the growing crime rate. Maybe if they could see the beauty of the night, they would stop the senseless violence. But, probably not, because humans had a thirst for violent. A thirst that could never be filled or controlled. But it was nice to have some hope.

"I know Jon can be a little much," Damian began. He didn't know why he was helping Jon win you over. Maybe it was because he cared for Jon more than he loved you- God, he must really care about Jon. Or maybe, he hated seeing the only friends he had fighting, even if they're fighting could benefit him. Because, whether Damian admitted it or not, he cared about them, a lot. "But he's really missed you."

"I know."

"He talked about you every day- Seriously, Every. Day." Damian exaggerates his hands to prove a point.

You chuckle at his movements, before pushing a hair out of your face. "I believe it. It's just... He's overwhelming, you know?"

"Yeah, well, that's Jon for you."

"Yeah. I should apologize, huh?"

"I'm sure he already forgives you."

You laugh again, this time your head going back, "God, you're probably right. That's so Jon, though. He's such a forgiving guy. A good guy."

"Yeah... He is, isn't he..."

#jon kent x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan kent #superman #batman #yandere x reader #wonder woman #robin x reader

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atlabeth · 7 months

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weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes.

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides.

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard.

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die.

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating.

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down.

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books.

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud.

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.”

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.”

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?”

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?”

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.”

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?”

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.”

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?”

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.”

“How did you get that?” he asked.

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?”

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on.

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.”

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?”

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments.

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.”

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.”

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked.

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.”

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.”

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.”

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you.

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.”

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused.

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?”

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.”

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.”

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.”

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!”

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—”

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?”

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.”

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.”

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.”

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.”

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you.

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know?

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.”

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness.

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.”

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both.

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?”

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?”

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.”

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?”

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.”

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.”

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.”

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.”

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.”

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.”

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.”

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.”

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.”

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.”

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.”

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.”

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?”

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.”

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.”

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb.

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her.

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.”

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges.

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.”

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?”

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in?

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most?

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.”

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly.

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.”

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own.

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked.

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit.

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented.

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element.

He wondered what you would think of Montauk.

“This was one of those times?” he asked.

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.”

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool.

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird.

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened.

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?”

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.”

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.”

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day.

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself.

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again.

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit.

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly.

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.”

“Flatterer.”

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.”

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.”

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?”

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could.

“I look like a stock photo.”

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.”

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?”

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.”

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said.

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.”

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?”

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.”

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed.

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.”

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.”

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.”

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.”

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.”

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.”

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h”

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—”

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.”

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.”

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.”

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.”

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke.

Either worked for you.

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list.

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.”

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.”

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.”

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!”

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus.

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!”

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.”

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.”

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—”

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!”

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.”

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.”

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.”

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.”

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything?

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.”

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.”

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan.

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that.

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest.

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over.

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground.

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid.

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help.

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary.

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium.

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black.

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

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