#when he was hanging out with Rachel all summer

[hermemescabin]

Did Percy see Annabeth on her 16th birthday I NEED TO KNOW

[paradiseprincesss]

Omg omggg I love having people to talk about our favorite supervillain!!!🥹🥹 I want to talk about this concept!! Hehe

Jonathan Crane would sooo love having an innocent gf, like just imagine Y/n being a family friend of Rachel’s, she’s a student teacher (studying to be a kindergarten teacher) and is living with Rachel through her collage years and meets Jon when some of Rachel’s court paperwork gets mixed up with Y/n’s teacher ones, like imagine she’s rushing to get them to Rachel and literally runs INTO Jonathan but gets knocked over and the papers go flying because he is a TALL man lmao. She’s profusely apologizing and Jonathan just has his eyebrows raised in confusion and a frown, which then turns into a smirk when she says she’s looking for her friend Rachel (Jonathan sees an opportunity to use Y/n to get to Rachel) Omggg but like imagine Y/n being oblivious to the danger and is just so sweet and adorable to Jonathan that he can’t go through with it🥹

His court look🔥🔥🔥

Who allowed him to be this gorgeous (and insane) WHO????

tattooed heart - jonathan crane x reader

masterlist

notes: i did not specify the readers major sorry sorry! but i had tattooed heart on repeat while writing this and i was like that song is jonathan cranes gf coded.

word count: 5.9k

summary: you're rachel dawes's college-aged childhood best friend and roommate, and one day your lecture notes get mixed up with her court documents. in a rush to bring the correct papers to her at the courthouse, you bump into none other than doctor jonathan crane.

warnings: smut 18+ mdni, swearing, kissing, p in v, creampie and general smut lol

as you were getting ready for the day, you applied your blush in the mirror, cheeks all rosy and pink, matching your soft pink nails. perfect, you thought to yourself as you added the final touches to your makeup, and looked through your closet for something to wear.

rummaging through your wardrobe, you settle on a white and pink floral print mini dress, perfect for summer, and pair it with some white stilettos. you did your hair up in your favourite hairstyle, and sprayed yourself with your favourite perfume.

you were getting ready to go to brunch with your girlfriends as it was a gorgeous day outside, and the girls from your college were planning to have a little get together. as you were grabbing your purse, your phone started to go off. looking at the screen, you notice it was your long time friend, rachel.

you were currently rooming with her since you were in college full-time, and the two of you were super close - inseparable, honestly. she had told you that you could move in with her, as she had a two bedroom home but she lived there alone.

the two of you go way back - she used to babysit you when you were younger, as her mother was best friends with yours. despite her being almost a decade older than you, you guys got along wonderfully. you had known each other ever since you were young, and the longstanding friendship between you two was something you both cherished deeply.

“hello?” you say, answering the phone.

“hey, so please don't hate me," she whines over the phone, "but i accidentally grabbed your papers instead of my court documents, i must've gotten them mixed up this morning."

"shoot - uh, okay. i'll be there in like twenty minutes and i'll bring them to you. where are they?" you ask her.

"the dining table, or somewhere in the kitchen - gotta go, see you in a bit. love you, your the best!" she says, hanging up.

sighing, you collect her stack of papers from the dining table, and grab your purse as you head out. the drive to the courthouse luckily wasn't too far off from where you were supposed to meet your friends, as the restaurant was only about a five minute drive from there.

putting your car into park, you grab her belongings along with yours, and step out your car, locking it behind you. as your high heels clicked against the ground, you looked around to see if maybe you could spot her. the inside of the courthouse was busy, and you were trying to find her as quick as possible since you knew this was a time sensitive matter.

you look through hallways and doorways, but didn't see rachel anywhere. you continue to pace up and down the halls, peering into empty rooms, trying to spot her. finally - you saw her standing at the end of a hallway near the back of the courthouse, and you rush over to her in your stilettos.

suddenly, with an "oof," you felt the wind get knocked out of you as the papers went flying. luckily, you didn't fall or anything, but every single sheet of paper did. as you glanced up, you noticed a very tall, (and very handsome) man in a suit and tie with glasses - and intoxicatingly blue eyes. the man stood at a good height of around six foot three, and managed to tower over you even with your high heels on.

"i-i'm so sorry." you say, flustered.

the handsome stranger raises a brow at you, seemingly irritated. he didn't appear to be too friendly, and he spoke sharply after you apologized. "you should really be more careful." he says to you, leaning down to help you grab your papers.

"o-of course," you stammer as he hands you the papers, "thank you, i'm sorry again. i was just in such a rush to get these to my friend, rachel, over there." you point to rachel, who finally noticed you, and ushered you over.

"miss dawes?" he asks, his tone shifting to something more curious, "you're a friend of hers?"

"she's known me ever since i was in elementary school. she mixed her papers up with my lecture notes this morning, so hence why i'm here bringing these to her." you say innocently, holding up the court documents. "i'm sorry, again."

he eyed you curiously for a moment, before smirking slightly. "that's quite alright. i never got your name, actually."

you tell him your name, and he responds to you once more, but his tone seemingly shifted into one much softer than before. "beautiful name, really."

before you had a chance to react, who you presumed to be another lawyer had rushed over to the two of you before speaking to jonathan.

"doctor crane, you're needed in the courtroom. mr. zsasz's legal team would like a word." he says in a hushed manner, before making his way back into the courtroom he came from.

"wait, you're jonathan crane?" you ask him with surprise.

you'd heard a lot about his work, it was phenomenal. he had made multiple headlines with his breakthroughs in psychology and psychopharmacology. his name was plastered on papers and articles, and he was very well-known in gotham for his achievements in his field, especially at only thirty-two years old.

"indeed i am." he says softly, and you could've sworn you saw fight back a smile.

"'i've heard about your work, it's incredible what you're doing." you tell him, to which he simply shakes his head.

"i respect the mind's power over the body," he says to you simply, "it's why i do what i do."

for a moment, you swore time stopped as the two of you locked eyes; his electrifyingly blue ones staring right into yours. however, that moment was cut short as a voice you recognized called out behind you.

"there you are!" rachels voice brings you out of your thoughts, causing you to turn around, "i told you to come over there, carl wanted to say hi." she points to carl finch, who was waving at you from a distance before returning to his conversation with someone else.

"right, sorry. i accidentally bumped into jonathan." you say with a smile, glancing at him, but rachel doesn't seem too happy to see him.

"doctor crane." she says as she acknowledges him unenthusiastically, clearly unimpressed with his presence.

"miss. dawes." he says back, just as annoyed, before changing his tone back to sweet and soft as he looks at you. "i'm afraid i have some matters to attend to, however, it was lovely meeting you. perhaps be a little more careful on your way out - don't want you bumping into anyone else." he said almost teasingly, before swiftly going back to where he was needed.

you smile to yourself, staring at the tall man as he walked away.

"don't tell me you bumped into jonathan crane of all people." rachel says, and you raise your brow.

"what? he seems nice, honestly." you tell her, but to that she scoffs.

"nice? god, no. i'm surprised he didn't rip you to shreds for bumping into him." she tells you, clearly irritated at just the thought of him. "i find it strange, you know. every time i try to get one of falcone's thugs locked up, he somehow gets the court to agree that their insane, and puts them into arkham."

as she was telling you this, it was going in one ear and right out the other, as your mind was too busy with the racing thoughts of doctor jonathan crane. his intoxicating smile, his baby blue eyes, everything about him was gorgeous - not to mention his height!

now, jonathan on the other hand, was thinking of you for an entirely different reason. yes, he found you to be pretty - beautiful, actually, he thought you were stunning, but that didn't stop him from seeing you as a means to get to rachel. jonathan crane was an opportunist, he was already plotting the second you told him you and rachel were practically sisters.

he figured that if he got close to you, he would get closer to rachel - meaning it would be easier to take her down and get her to stop sniffing around. he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to do it yet - though he had a few plans that he'd thought of. his first idea was to threaten you, scare you into giving information over about her, perhaps if he scared you enough, you would tell rachel to stop meddling with his plans.

but that didn't seem airtight enough. however...there was another idea that struck him - and it seemed to be the safer (and smarter) option. he would make you believe that he was falling for you, get you to trust him - and then once he had your heart in his hands, use you as leverage to get rachel to stay out of his way.

it was simple, really. he wasn't going to seriously harm you, just kidnap you once you let your guard down, then use you as ransom (hm, more like hostage) to persuade rachel to step down from any current and future cases where he had to act as an expert witness.

"are you listening?" rachels voice brought you back to reality, and you nod while she looks through her papers. "yeah - sorry, i'm late to this thing i have with my friends. i gotta go." you say, waving goodbye to her and checking your phone, realizing you needed to leave.

you swiftly drove over to brunch with your girlfriends, and the whole time, you found yourself fixated on the thought of jonathan. there was something about him, something that made your heart swell. perhaps it was his gorgeous eyes, or maybe it was that stunningly chiseled face - whatever it may be, he had a hold on your heart, that was for sure.

after saying your goodbyes to your friends after brunch, you headed off to the grocery store to run some errands. the sun was shining brightly, and the weather was gorgeous, so you decided to spend as much of your day outside as you could. as you were grabbing some apples from one of the produce bins, you turned around and-

ugh, not again!

you felt your body collide into someone else's, and you internally slapped yourself; why twice in one day?!

as you were about to start profusely apologizing, you noticed that you were eye level with a very familiar suit and tie - looking up, you see none other than jonathan crane; and this time, he's actually smiling.

"clumsy one, aren't you?" he teases, and you blush.

"i just can't seem to escape you, i guess," you say back, your pink blush accentuating the apples of your cheeks, "i didn't expect to literally bump into you again so soon."

"i had to run some errands, figured i'd do it after the whole court thing." he says. "actually, i never had the chance to ask you for your number."

when he said that, you started to actually blush profusely, and you managed to stammer out a response. "o-oh, yeah, right."

"yeah so, can i grab it from you?" he asked teasingly, with a small smile.

"o-oh, yes totally." you say, flustered, and he gives you his phone to put your contact information into. after taking it back from you, he asked you a question. "are you busy at all tonight? i know it's a long shot, but..."

"i'm not, actually," you say back, "i don't have any classes for the next few days, it's a reading break."

"well, in that case - how about you join me for dinner tonight?" he asks softly, and you could feel your heart racing.

"yeah, that works. just text me the details then?" you say.

"will do," he says, shamelessly checking you out once more, "try not to bump into anyone else, seriously." he playfully teases, and you laugh softly.

that same evening, you had finished getting ready for your date with jonathan. you opted for a classy, but sexy, look for tonight, and threw on your favourite heels. with your hair freshly done and your makeup on point, you felt pretty - you looked pretty.

spraying on a few spritz of your favourite perfume, you grab your purse and head outside of your place to meet jonathan, as he had texted you that he was here. you felt your stomach do little flips on your way to his car, and even though you were a grown woman, you still felt like a silly school girl with a crush around him.

you spotted his car parked outside your apartment building - a brand new, 3 series bmw with blackout tinting, and gun metal coloured paint. stepping to the passenger door, he reaches over and pushes it open for you, and you get in.

"wow," he says softly, "you look gorgeous, darling."

his tone (and words, duh) made you blush, and you notice he's still in a suit - just a slightly different one, and this time, no sweater vest. "thank you," you say sweetly, "you look really good, too."

"ah, i appreciate it, darling." he tells you, smiling as he speeds off onto the road, driving ever so recklessly - which you thought was hot.

the night went flawlessly, jonathans plan was definitely working out the way he had hoped. the two of you talked endlessly over multiple glasses of wine and dinner, really getting to know each other on a personal level.

he told you all about his time in college, and why he chose to work in the field of psychology, which you found fascinating. you had always liked a mature, well spoken, and intelligent man. you'd told him about your current major, the classes you were taking and your passion for it, which he found endearing. he thought you were absolutely intelligent and found you extremely well spoken for someone your age.

you were just so...sweet. so kind, affectionate, and innocent. again, even if you didn't look that innocent, your personality shone through your exterior - and my goodness did he think you were adorable. your kindness was unmatched.

now, jonathan had originally set this plan into motion to take rachel down (obviously), but he found himself getting slightly distracted with you. sure, he wanted nothing more than to get rachel dawes to stop sniffing around his rather illegal and criminal activities, however, you were far more interesting than he had originally thought. yes, he thought you were jaw-dropping, stunning, gorgeous, angelic (the list just goes on...) when he first met you, but he simply thought you were a pretty face and nothing more.

but boy, was he wrong. you were so much more than that, you were magnificent in his eyes. he was wondering how the hell you didn't already have a boyfriend, as it seemed someone like you would have men lining up just to have a chance with you.

you were thinking the same thing, unbeknownst to him. it was insane, really. he was undeniably handsome, and my goodness was he smart - a man dedicated to his job and passions, so brilliant and ambitious, but yet he didn't have a woman in his life. you thought surely the universe was on your side when it caused the two of you to cross paths.

it had been approximately a month since you and jonathan had gone on your first date - and many more followed. the two of you were enamoured with each other, unable to leave one another alone. he was a busy man, he worked a lot - but he made exceptions when it came to you. he'd never done that before.

he mentally cursed at himself for acting like a lovesick fool, but fuck, he couldn't stop himself if he tried. for a man with such self control; he lost all his inhibitions when it came to you. he was so cold, so calculated and cynical...was he not? well, not around you. his cold, frozen heart was melting, and he hated it - sort of.

he hated that you happened to be the one person he was going to use as a pawn in order to get to rachel - but on the other hand, he couldn't deny how he felt. he always thought love was a waste of time, why be in a relationship when there is no use for such a thing? hm, well - you changed his mind on that, too. he wanted so desperately to be your man, the one for you. the one who got to hold you at night, for you to be the one he came home to after a particularly stressful day at work, the one with his last name - ugh, he was turning soft! and of course it had to be with you of all people.

tonight, jonathan had been working late when suddenly, a guard had knocked on his office door.

"yes?" he asked curtly, "what is it?"

the officer sighed as he opened the office door, "miss dawes from the DA's office is here to see you. she has more questions."

"tell her that i do not have the time for any more silly questions-"

"she brought that girl you always talk about with her."

"...i will be there shortly." he says, sighing as he puts his glasses back on.

okay so, jonathan may have let it slip that he was going out with you to his coworker a few weeks ago. this one coworker had asked him if he could help file a report, but jonathan had a date with you that night, so he had casually said something along the lines of "no, i've got a date with this girl," and the coworker was shocked.

jonathan crane was going on a date? and he was telling people about it? that was huge news, and it soon turned into workplace gossip. jonathan was seething but i mean, he did it to himself, and this was the exact reason why he always kept his personal life separate from work.

jonathan made his way down from his office to go see rachel and you. he wasn't sure why you were here, but he didn't care. it didn't matter as long as he got to see you.

"miss dawes," he says, walking up to her, whilst softly smiling at you. however, once he looked back at her, his stone cold demeanour returned. "this is most irregular - i have nothing further to add to the report i've filed with the judge."

"i have questions about your report." she says nonchalantly, and you watch the interaction between the two of them.

you had driven her here, as her car was currently at the mechanics for maintenance, you had offered. that's what best friends do, after all. you'd insisted that you wait in the car for her, as you didn't want to come off as intruding on him at work, but she said it wasn't safe for you to wait all alone, in the dark, in gotham at an asylum parking lot. you couldn't lie - she had a point.

"uh, i'm just going to wait in the car, i think." you say to them both quietly, but rachel shakes her head. "nonsense, i'll only be a minute. like i said, i have questions, doctor crane."

"such as?" he asks.

"isn't it convenient for a fifty-two year old man who has no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he's about to be indicted?" she sneers, and he stares at her with a cold, emotionless stare.

"well, as you can see for yourself, there's nothing convenient about his symptoms." he says smoothly, and you notice behind the glass window, who appears to be carmine falcone is on a medical bed, incoherently mumbling to himself.

the two of them continue their little verbal quarrel, and you couldn't help but feel a little out of place, and perhaps, a little awkward as well as you watched the man you were falling in love with and your best friend argue over this.

eventually, rachel had threatened him saying she had paged another doctor at county general to go over falcones toxicology report, as she wanted to know exactly what crane had put him on. jonathan looked like he was holding his tongue, and you could tell he was getting irritated - you could see it in the way he was clenching his jaw silently.

he softly looked over at you, saying your name sweetly. "would you care to join me downstairs, darling?" he says, then turns back to rachel, looking annoyed. "perhaps we should discuss this another time, miss dawes."

"she is not going anywhere, especially with you." rachel sneered, and you huffed.

"okay, enough. i think we should all just take a breather, and just chill for a second. i'll be back, okay rachel? i told jonathan- er, doctor crane, that i was intrigued about his work here. he just wants to show me around; i asked the last time i saw him." you tell her, looking between her and jonathan.

rachel knew that you had been seeing him, and she was supportive (well, as best as she could be) since she adored you, but she despised him. she just couldn't wrap her around how someone as diabolical as him could get along with someone as sweet as you.

"fine, okay." she sighs, and jonathan softly takes your hand in his, leading you to an elevator that looked to be quite old and rigid, but you pushed it aside.

he took a key and turned it, as wherever he was taking you was clearly a restricted access area, and the two of you stood side by side, hand in hand as the elevator went downstairs.

yes - this was all part of jonathans plan to cut rachel out of the picture, to get her away from his criminal plans and secret toxins that he had been putting into gothams water supply. he was going to gas you next, as he knew rachel would come looking for you, then hold you for ransom (again, more like hostage), until rachel agreed to stop getting involved and dropped her involvement in any cases he worked all together.

as the elevator dinged, he stepped out first, leading the way with his hand resting gently on your back; the feeling was electrifying. his hands on you - it was driving you crazy. jonathan wasn't a very trusting person, so the two of you had gone on countless dates - but he didn't ask you out yet, ask you to be his, and you guys hadn't actually had sex yet, which you found a little endearing, if you were being honest. it seemed like he respected you and wanted more than just a quick hookup.

"this way, please." he says, his voice saccharine as he talks to you. as you follow his lead, he then takes your hand in his once more, and pushes a large, heavy, metal door open. you followed him, hand in hand, and continued to go along with whatever it was he was doing. you didn't think twice about it; you never felt a sense of danger near him.

glancing down from the top of a cascading staircase, you see what appeared to be inmates or patients of arkham asylum, in their jumpsuits, working with various chemicals and pouring them into some sort of water supply - a sewerage of some sort, maybe? you blink a few times, but eventually you look over at him with an innocent and adorably confused expression.

jonathan pauses for a moment, looking down at you and your small frame in comparison to his, and takes note of how cute you truly were. god, you were so pretty. sighing, he continued, trying his hardest not to let you affect him in any way. "this is where we make the medicine," he says, "perhaps you should..."

he trailed off before he could say "have some," unable to finish his sentence, and you look at him with that adorable pout that you had many times before.

he couldn't go through with it. this was the final part of his plan! he was supposed to hold you hostage! how else was he going to get rid of rachel dawes and stop her from meddling? you were like, his last resort, or something along those lines.

sighing, he shook his head. "no, i can't do this to you." he says, his voice soft, matching his expression.

"what are you talking about?" you ask innocently, as if you were oblivious to the scene around you. one thing about you was that you tended to see the good in people; even if others found them distasteful, you managed to see their best qualities.

therefore, when jonathan took you into some kind of illegal, criminal chemical distribution and production centre for his fear toxin, you innately looked past it - a typical you thing to do. they do say that ignorance is bliss, right?

jonathan eyed you curiously - were you serious? "do you know where you are right now?" he asked, tone still soft as he spoke to you.

"yeah, arkham asylum." you respond cutely, and he almost laughed. you were so adorable - so sweet.

"no- like, where we are right now, as in where we're standing." he clarifies, hoping you would understand.

"a lab?" you ask hopefully, and he nods, looking at you with a small smile.

"something like that, yes," he laughs softly, "you don't see the problem here?"

you tilt your head to the side to really emphasize your confusion, and jonathan feels this strange sensation in his chest - almost like there were butterflies flying around freely in there. "well, should i see a problem with this?" you ask innocently.

"yes," he says, "yes, you should. does this not bother you at all?"

"not really, no."

"but why?"

"cause i like you." you say, and he goes quiet.

you like him? you like him? you like him. for some reason, this makes his heart beat about a million miles a minute, and he gets flustered - nearly choked up. jonathan crane of all people wasn't one to ever be at a loss for words, but love changes us in ways we wouldn't dream of.

for a moment, you thought you'd really fucked up this time. he was quiet for so long, you thought perhaps you should take it back - save yourself before it was too late; confessing your feelings when they weren't mutual was one of the most embarrassing things that you felt could happen to you. but, before you could take back your little confession, his hands were on your waist, pulling you close to him.

his expression was something you'd never seen before, almost like he was searching your eyes for any trace of a lie, really trying to see if you were being honest with him. vulnerability didn't come easy to jonathan, and his walls were up so high - they were almost unbreakable.

almost.

as he pulled you close, his hands rested on your waist gently, pulling you flush against his body as he looked down at you. "you have feelings for me?" he asked quietly, and you nod.

"of course i do, i thought it was obvious..." you say just as quietly, your eyes trailing over his pink, plush lips.

suddenly, he was pulling you into a gentle kiss, which you immediately melted into, letting yourself fall into him. neither of you fought the fall this time, especially not jonathan.

"i need you," he whispered against your lips, "i think i-" he stopped himself, his heart skipping and his brain short circuiting from the thought of finishing his sentence.

"hm?" you ask cutely, pulling away from the kiss.

"i think i love you." he says quickly, and you smile sweetly at him. "i know i love you." you reassure him, and he smiles back at you. "darling, you truly are something else."

before you knew it, the two of you were sneaking away as if you were teenagers again. he took you through the staff only parts of the asylum, and eventually led you to the underground parking garage. the two of you were laughing amongst yourselves, acting like two high school students in love.

you had asked a security officer to hand the keys to your car to rachel, so that she could drive home, and shot her a text that simply read: "i owe u, pls dont hate me ok ily bye."

she sent back the following: "ughhh fine"

like jonathan, she also had a soft spot for you, even when you did things like this - you were like a baby sister to her, she adored you even if you were trying to sleep with the "enemy." well, her enemy anyways.

it was quite cold on this particular night, even though it was the middle of summer. as the two of you walked through the parkade, jonathan noticed that you were shivering slightly, and he quickly took off his suit jacket. wrapping it around your shoulders, he pulled you close, placing a few chaste kisses on your neck and behind your ear, as the two of you rushed to get into his car.

jonathan and you swiftly got in his car, his hand on your thigh as the two of you sped off to his place. the minute you two got out and stepped into his apartment building, the both of you were pressed up against each other. the two of you sharing sloppy kisses as you tried your best to hurry up and get into his apartment from the elevator, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on each other.

as he closed his apartment door and locked it behind him, you pounced on him, locking your lips with his in an instant. he needed you - and you needed him. both desperate and needy, you make out feverishly, hungry for more. it was meant to be - it must be. the way the moonlight shone through the big, glass window of his bedroom, illuminating you both as you made the moment yours.

you rush to help him out of his clothes; sloppy, hot kisses being shared between the both of you. he pushes you back onto his soft mattress, and he tugs your clothes off of you, pawing at your breasts through your lacy bra. once you were in just your lacy bra and matching lacy panties, he groaned at the sight.

"fuck, look at you, darling." he groans, and you feel your cheeks heat up from his words. "i've wanted you for so long."

his hands travel up your body, reaching for your bra clasp before undoing it, your perky breasts out for him to see. wasting absolutely no time, he slides your lacy panties down, too. you could see the tent in his boxers, and you smirked to yourself.

"please fuck me, jon. i wanna feel myself getting stretched out by your cock." you say to him, looking up at his face as he crawls onto you.

jonathan was almost at a loss for words - for someone so sweet and so innocent, your words were so filthy.

"yeah, is that what you want, darling?" he asked, pulling his boxers down to reveal is hard cock, dripping with pre cum. "d'you want me to fuck you stupid, hm? until you can't walk?"

his words made you moan, you were unbelievably turned on right now. you felt the tip of his cock line up with your drooling entrance, and you snake your hand down to your clit, teasingly playing with it while he watched. you moan, and he takes a hold of your hand. "you're fucking naughty, aren't you?" he asked, pinning both your wrists above your head as he forcefully thrusted his cock into your tight, warm cunt.

"jesus, you're fucking soaked." he groans, setting a fast and brutal pace as he fucked you. you arch your back at the feeling of his cock hitting your cervix already - so deep you couldn't decipher whether it actually hurt or not.

"f-fuck, so good, ugh-" you moan, the sound of your voice mixed with his cock sliding in and out of your dripping cunt filling up the room.

"y-yeah?" he asks, moaning your name, "darling, fuck. this cunt is all mine, understood?"

you nod frantically, feeling his thick, fat cock sliding in and out of your spongy walls, stretching your tight little cunt out. "mm, uh-huh. o-oh, jon..!"

he continued to fuck you mercilessly, pounding your pretty pussy with such force, you knew he wasn't kidding when he said you wouldn't be walking tomorrow. you were a mess under him, screaming his name at this point, and he loved it. oh, how he loved seeing you fall apart underneath him.

"j-jon, baby," you moan, "i-i'm gonna cum."

"drench my cock, darling," he says, still fucking your soaking cunt with his thick cock, "show me, fuck- show me who you fucking belong to."

his words sent you over the edge, your mind going blank as you screamed his name out over and over, your legs shaking as he fucked you into oblivion, your release crashing over you like a wave. your soft walls enveloping his fat cock even more, tightening up around him.

"god, you're unbelievably tight-" he moans, "m'gonna fill this pretty pussy up, darling."

you started to babble incoherently, lost in the moment. "mm, f-uck- i love you." you gasped, the words coming out of your mouth before you could stop them.

your saccharine, desperate voice sent jonathan into overdrive, and he was certainly starting to lose his composure. "i love you more." he groaned while painting your walls white with his cum.

he stayed on top of you for a moment, the both of you catching your breath and processing what just happened. eventually, he rolled off of you, and immediately pulled you into his embrace. you snuggled into his arms, your head laying on his chest; listening to his heartbeat as bliss consumed you.

jonathan subconsciously knew he couldn't go through with his plan as soon as he fabricated it, as you'd captured his heart instantaneously. you were so sweet, so oblivious to the fact that he was so imperfect, so dangerous. maybe you knew, he thought, or maybe you just chose to see the good in him, he wasn't entirely sure. he wasn't a saint, and he definitely wasn't a good man by any means, but for you; he would try to be better. he promised that to himself.

you'd dozed off while he was lost in his thoughts, and he looked over at you, snuggled up in his arms as you slept peacefully, and he held you a little closer - a little tighter. he never wanted to let you go.

your name had been tattooed onto his heart from the moment he had met you - permanent and forever there.

my taglist has been giving me issues so i apologize if it doesn't notify you when i've tagged you, as for some reason tumblr won't allow me to tag more than 5 blogs unless theres a space between them lol

my taglist (join here!):

@kpopgirlbtssvt @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet

@abigailinterrupted @ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby

@aprilsfrog05

[coolprettyleo]

fit my poems like a perfect rhyme - everything has changed au

wc: 3k

tw: talks of sex. angst. drinking. lmk if more!

gabe perreault x oc

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

rachel summers was a girl everyone around her was drawn too. she was the cool it girl who seemed to be blessed, in just about every aspect of her life; she was.

she was born and raised in california, where her hobbies included surfing and hanging out with friends. in high school she was the popular girl who dated the star quarterback, and of course they won prom queen and king.

she even had her two best friends, that too the average eye; were her minions. together they were the hottest trio in school, it was iconic in a way. sadly, those minions chose to have a mind of their own, and stay on the west coast.

whereas she did not. Rachel. who of course went by the name 'summer', committed to a school on the easy coast; boston college.

she had flowy blonde hair that fell to her shoulders and a heart of gold that made her easy to love by just about anyone who met her. so when she moved into a new city, knowing no one but her beloved cat, she wasn't all too nervous.

"no I dont want to know who he got with tonight mary" rachel rolled her eyes as she face timed one of the minions, who she wanted to call a friend, but wasn't. mary was across the country at college and it happened to be the same college as said quarterback boyfriend, who was now her ex.

mary felt the need to update summer on just about everything he did. of course including the fact he got with a new girl every night.

at least he's finally getting what I couldn't give him.

"i'm not telling you this to be evil summer! I'm telling you this so you don't feel guilty, to go live a life. don't be a nobody, its gross" mary's voice said on the phone seeing as she was in thought. she had a bit of a point.

"I dont feel guilty to go out!"

"then go out!"

rachel thought for a moment, she could go out.

she had a neighbor, who seemed to love going out. that is, if she had been observing right, her neighbor would go alone? maybe she wouldn't mind a companion? they seemed to be around the same age and she seemed cool.

"anyways, I gotta go. love you babe" mary said before kissing the camera and hanging up, not even waiting for summer to mutter a goodbye.

it's like mary only called her, to rub in how much fun college had been going for her. summer on the other hand, was going through a nasty breakup for the beginning of it.

I do need to enjoy it

rachel was left nervously juggling the idea of whether or not she should ask her neighbor.

what do I even say

"wanna join me for drinks?" summer practiced pacing in her living room.

"hey! were neighbors can I join you?" too forward.

"lets have a blast tonight!" what's wrong with you?

what if her neighbor liked to go out alone? or what if she didn't go out alone, and just met up with friends? no summer was sure of the fact she did these activities alone. maybe she's just an alcoholic.

she decided to man up and shake off the nerves and just ask. the worst that could happen, would be she says no, and they go about their lives.

while we awkwardly avoid each other for our rest of co-existency.

summer decided to just go ahead and knock on her neighbors door.

"in a minuite!" she heard rustling and things knocking down on the other side for a minute, before the door swung open and there stood a brunette girl with going out boots. she is going out

the girl seemed to be surprised and confused. summer deciding start the conversation, before the girl thought she was just some creep.

"hi! were neighbors, my names rachel, but like everyone calls me summer" she nervously smiled.

"yeah! I've like seen you in the hallway and stuff sometimes" the neighbor nervously rambled.

"yeah me too. look, I don't know if this is weird or anything, but I was wondering if you would be down to get some drinks some time?"

yes summer! you sounded cool and chill!

the neighbor had not been expecting that. she had thought she was going to open the door to her situation ship , ending things with her, for the crap she pulled last night. but when she opened the door to find summer, she thought she was going to get confronted for the fact she had sex in the middle of said hallway last night. she wasn't proud of that fact either.

"oh! uhm. yeah, that sounds nice! -actually, i'm going out right now, did you want to join?"

"yes!- I mean- yeah sounds cool. super cool" summer cringed, realizing she scream 'yes' and seemed far too desperate.

"let me just get changed real quick" she added.

"okay slay! wear something cute! oh! and by the way my names frankie" the brunette smiled.

"sick name!"

"thanks I was gonna say summer's sick too!" the two girls told each other excitedly. this really felt the start of something new and good for the both of them.

____

the two girls hit the town with a sense of belonging. frankie had been searching for the feeling of a girl friend since she moved in, and summer was the ultimate coolest person you can find.

summer was finally happy she built up the courage to talk to her neighbor, that frankly intimidated her.

"wait so that guy from the beginning of the year wasn't even your boyfriend!?!" summer exclaimed as they got off the uber. she remembered seeing a tall boy in the hallway alot.

"nope. i thought he was gonna fall in love with me over time, news flash, I was wrong"

"he's a douche and love is fake"

"got that right" frankie said smiling.

"so... you got a love life?" frankie asked curiously, she was excited to have the bond of girl hood.

"not really, its kinda dead at the moment. I had a boyfriend, but college happened and everything" summer said kinda sadly.

"im sorry, but I mean we can get you laid?" she smiled wiggling her eyebrows.

summer wasn't the type of girl for hookups. she knew frankie was, she often saw them, but she didn't know if she could throw all her eggs in one basket like that. no-hate but she didn't even let her ex-boyfriend do anything to her till it was the summer of their senior year, ad even that didn't go all too well.

frankie saw her in thought and rewinded.

"oh my god! are you a virgin? i'm sorry. we'll find you just love, then!" frankie said hoping she didn't weird out the poor girl.

"no- I mean- well... kinda. its complicated" summer said, red in the face.

"you dont have to tell-"

summer cut her off by whispering something in frankie's ear. something that made her eyes go wide.

"your half a virgin!" frankie whispered yelled.

"oh shut up franks" summer said as the girls got giggling and gave the bouncer there very fake ID's. frankie knew they were going to be a duo.

___

the bar was frankie's favorite and summer soon understood why. it was a cool vintage bar that kind of resembled a dive bar.

the girls ordered themselves some shots and quickly downed them, needing to feel the feeling sooner than faster.

"oh my god, the boys hockey team just walked in" frankie said, turning and facing away from the door.

"why does that matter, their kinda cute" summer said tilting her head as the filed in sipping on her vodka cranberry.

"the douche guy is a hockey player" frankie told her.

"ohhhh. now I get it"

"I also have a little thing with one of his friends" frankie guilty told her.

"the guy from last night?"

"you saw that!" frankie said, embarrassed as hell.

"please. your not exactly quite either" summer told the girl as frankie wanted to die.

"it's not the guy from last night" frankie told her overall guilty as summer gasped.

"I slept with a BU guy last night. but I mean ryan keeps saying were not anything" frankie said shamelessly as summer had her hands over her mouth.

"do the guys know you" summer asked seeing as alot of them kept looking over at the two.

"yes" frankie said scared to ask why she was asking that.

"oh god four of them are coming over" summer said to her wanting to run away. she hated confrontation.

"your staying with me" frankie said grabbing her shirt before she tried to leave her.

"frankie! missed you at the game tonight" will said being petty, they were pissed at her.

frankie turned and looked at all of them, and by the look of their faces they were mad at her. ryan's face made her want to crumble. they weren't together, he made that very clear, but a girl like frankie had needs.

"it was meaningless" frankie told them, avoiding eye contact with ryan.

"he brought it up on the ice" ryan said to her, frankie now noticing he had a light black eye and busted up lip.

"ry-"

"we need to talk" he said, looking the most serious frankie had ever seen it.

frankie turned to look at summer who saw how frankie wanted to fix things between them. she wasn't going to get in the way of that, just because she was afraid to be left alone.

"go" summer urged her. as she gave her a sorry look and walked out behind a fuming ryan, leaving her with three boys.

"well that was uncomfortable" summer joked to the three boys. all of them eyeing her trying to figure out who she was, frankie didn't have friends.

"i'm her neighbor by the way, summer" she added, not wanting to seem like some nosy person as they nodded.

"jacob" a ginger haired guy said

"will" the blonde one said.

"gabe" a boy that summer found unbelievably handsome said.

"you go to BC?" a gabe asked.

"yeah... I know you guys do, good game today " summer said. she had been watching it on ESPN before she went to frankies apartment. they all smiled and thanked her as they got to talking. even though they looked intimidating they were overall nice goofy guys.

"you think lenny's letting up?" jacob asked as he noticed they were still outside.

"I don't know, he was pretty pissed" will said looking at the door.

"did he get in a fight over her or something" summer asked feeling like she was missing out on something.

"yeah. she has him on a leash and they're not even dating yet" gabe said chuckling.

"well they're not official" summer defended.

"they basically are, they hang out everyday" will said

"she said he's made it very clear, that they're not together" summer said.

"that doesn't give her the green light to sleep with other guys though" gabe argued.

"guy. just one. i think you guys are just mad it was with a BU guy" summer said to them.

"I mean obviously! before the champion ship game is crazy too. he was just trying to get in our heads too, especially lennys. hughes is smarter than that" will said while the other two nodded.

they have to be full of themselves, for them to think this is about them!

"all that over... hockey?" summer said confused. hockey was the not a big deal in the oc, where she grew up. but then again, she remembers the quarterback from the cross town rival school, claiming to have her nudes; he didn't.

so I mean they could be right... but that seemed very high school to summer; this was college.

"why'd you say hockey like that" gabe said to her, not liking she said 'hockey' with a tone of disgust.

"I just don't think it's all that serious" summer said, trying to not offend them. obviously still getting under ones skin though, specifically gabe.

"hockeys not important?"

"no! I mean it is for people like you guys-" summer said trying to save herself but failing horribly.

"like us? what's that supposed to mean?" gabe said. he felt summer was some stuck up girl and even though he had found the girl to be quite attractive he didnt know if he liked her all too well.

"not like that. i mean it's important to hockey players and stuff, but like its not someones whole life, you know?" summer didnt even know if she knew exactly what she was trying to say.

"so now you think we have no life?" gabe said honestly just wanting to pick on the flustered blonde.

"oh my god, im just going to shutup" summer said taking a sip out of her vodka cranberry as will and jacob laughed. they decided they liked the girl, gabe not so much.

"do you even know anything, hockey related?" gabe asked still wanting to bicker with the girl.

"not really. I honestly forget its like a real thing out here" summer said.

"you don't think hockey's a real sport" gabe said as will and jacob rolled their eyes. they knew their friend and if they didn't know any better, they'd say he was flirting?

"who doesn't think hockey is a real sport!?!" frankie said, as her and ryan rejoining the group, seemingly on good terms. gabe pointed to summer.

"nice! I knew I liked you!" frankie said giggling as the boys rolled their eyes.

"I didn't even mean it like that, its just I grew up in california. and over there, the closest ice rink is probably three hours away"

"isn't there hockey in california? they have three NHL teams" jacob asked.

"californias big. where'd you grow up?" ryan asked the girl as he had an arm wrapped around frankie.

"the oc. newport beach" summer answered. god she missed her hometown.

"can you surf?" will asked her,

"yeah, pretty well actually. when I was sixteen i got a silver medal for it too" summer answered casually.

"OMG! you have to teach me I've been trying to learn for so long now!" frankie said excitedly, remembering the memory of her and her brothers failing miserably. it wasn't like wake boarding on the lake.

"you guys are free to join us anytime. my parents are traveling across europe, for like a year, so the house is just sitting there, its on the beach too" summer told them as the boys and frankie agreed.

gabe on the other hand just couldn't stop his thoughts of thinking summer was some stuck up girl. everything that came out of her mouth, just now, wasn't helping either. 'its on the beach by the way' who says that! gabe thought.

the night went on, frankie and summer unknowingly becoming the best friends they've always needed, ryan finally happy that him and frankie made it official, and the other three boys creating a friendship with the two girls, it was all just so college.

right now though, the night was close to finished and the boys were taking the two very drunk girls back to their apartments. girls who thought everything in that moment was the most hilarious thing in the world.

the group stumbled on a large hill and it didn't take long for the two girls to want to roll down it.

"frankie and summer don't you dare!" ryan said speeding up, seeing as the boys had been walking a couple meters behind the two girls.

the two girls ignoring his please and giggling. ryan turned his head to look at his friends as if he was giving them the mom look for help. gabe huffed and went to help him, with summer.

"one-" frankie started off as the two girls sat side by side holding each others hands

"two" summer said giggling

"GO!" frankie screamed seeing as the boys were right behind them.

the girls began to slide as ryan missed his attempt to lunge at frankie, while gabe not so much. he attempted to grab summer but lost footing and down he went along with them.

only causing the girls to laugh ten times more, at gabe. summer was laughing loudly, a sound that gabe didn't know if he hated or loved.

"you good gabe?" she said as she held a hand out to him, trying to hold back a giggle.

gabe obviously holding his pride, ignored her hand and got up on his own.

"you are absolutely insufferable" he huffed as he walked past her.

"c'mon perreault! don't be mad at summer! she's just a girl" frankie said as she saw gabe began to walk back up the hill towards the group.

"yeah! its not my fault you ate shit!" summer said, before the two girls unleashed laughter, once again. both taking breaks as they walked up the hill.

"you guys pissed gabe off, him and jacob left back to the dorms" ryan told the two as will began to hold summer up.

"I don't think he likes me very much" summer told them.

"well, your lucky I like you enough to help you" will said as she began to slump herself onto him.

"gabes just being like that because he thinks he's flirting" frankie said against ryans back as he decided to haul her up over his shoulder.

"ewwwww" a drunk summer let out. as the group laughed.

it had been a great night for them, except gabe of course.

[niamh-writes-things]

dbd pjo ideas!!!

so, first of all i think it's pretty obvious that edwin is a son of athena, but i think it could also be cool to make him a son of a minor god/goddess like Oizys (goddess of despair) because it would be ironic, but i still think that athena works best

charles i'm not too sure about because he definately could be a few of them, if we want to go for irony then make him be percy and be a son of Poseidon (him and percy feel very similar both backstory and personality-wise so i'm tempted to go for poseidon)

for crystal i thought maybe psyche (goddess of the soul) or again, apollo because of her visions which could be changed into being prophecies, or she can be the rachel elizabeth dare of the series and have no godly parent and just be the human,mortal oracle who hangs around during summer hbut also i think she should be a half blood because then she gets to come on more adventures, she also could be hecate (godess of magic)

Niko was the trickiest for me to come up with but i think she could be a child of Aphrodite because of how much she loves love in the series. either that or iris (rainbow) becasue of all the bright colours she wears

charles can keep his bag - a nice Hephaestus camper made it for him and he loves it

will either update this when i've had more ideas or make a poart two so keep an eye out

[hallietblr]

here with me | j.fisher

a/n: first post!! a mini tsitp angtsy fic just because:) i hope you all have an amazing and beautiful day<3

warnings: cheating, swearing, angst.

—

“y/n, wait!” i can hear him exclaim behind me as i quickly walk adjacent to the fisher’s summer home and away from the pool.

my heart is thumping loud in my chest and there’s a slight ringing in my ears as i sniffle, trying to prevent the threatening tears from falling. i tuck the hanging pieces of hair behind my ears as i silently beg for my legs to move faster, rushing to the empty streets of cousins.

unfortunately, the golden curled boy was much taller therefore quicker than i was despite him being in his pool for a night swim… with her. i struggle to take a deep breath as his footsteps approach from behind.

“please, baby” jeremiah pleads, attempting to grab my wrist, “it’s not what it looks like, i promise.”

i stop in my tracks, my wrist in his larger hand. once he realizes that i’m no longer going to try to run from him, his grip on me slowly softens. at this point, the two of us are in the middle of the road. only sounds of crickets filling the air and the shimmering summer stars up above keeping us company.

i don’t even dare to look him in the eyes, his beautiful sky blue eyes that i adore. i know the second our eyes connect, that i will break. the cries that i have been trying to keep down will arise.

i look down at my beaten white converse, “then tell me what it was, jeremiah.

because to me, it was very clear that i just caught you hooking up with belly in the pool.” i spat out, my voice laced with betrayl, “it’s always been her… hasn’t it?”

i turn so our chests are facing one another, my gaze slowly crawling up from my shoes to his stunned expression. the tears are welling up in my eyes and i don’t even try to hide it anymore — he’s at a loss for words, his eyes dancing across my face as he searches for something to say

“i-” he stutters out. my head drops, slowly shaking in disbelief to myself,

“i always knew it. ever since we were seven, you’ve only had eyes for her but a part of me always hoped that you will notice me someday.” i say sadly, “all i ever wanted was for you, my best friend, to see me.”

his hand gently grazes my arm before settling onto my shoulder, “y/n, love… i do see you. you’re my girlfriend after all.”

i scoff in response, “right, so i’m your girlfriend but i’m not enough for you since you’re kissing belly.”

the moonlight shines brightly on his caramel curls, highlighting the lighter features of it that it got from being in the summer sun. every inch of my body wants to melt into his strong arms — but i know that if i allow myself to do that, that i’m giving a piece of my heart away to someone to clearly wants someone else.

how could i be so stupid? thinking that after eight years of jeremiah loving belly, that his feelings would suddenly change and love me instead. at the same time, it felt so real.

it was last summer, when the three of us were fifteen, was when he confessed to me on the beach. we had just finished a morning surf session, something only jeremiah and i would do together. he and i sat on the soft sands of the beach, completely alone as the entire world was just waking up. we watched the waves, my head on his shoulder like always when he put his hand on my cheek.

jeremiah told me that since our last summer at the beach house, he couldn’t stop thinking about me. and not just in the best friend sense. he said me that he wanted us to be together, that it was just right. how it was always meant to be us two in the end, how it was written in the stars.

it felt so… real.

we have been together since, tagged as the it couple of cousins. we surfed together, partied together, played volleyball together, essentially been attached to the hip. susannah, laurel, and rachelle (my mother) claimed they always saw it coming since we were babies. they say they always knew that their children will end up being together, or maybe that’s just what they dreamed about so that they will be sisters officially.

i snapped out of my trance of reminiscing our relationship, i look at him. my jeremiah. i could tell behind his eyes that he knew exactly what he had done, what was missing from his eyes was the sight of regret. something i had silently begged to see, because maybe, just maybe we will be able to recover from this.

“jere…” i sigh, his hand brushing small strands of hair out of my face so he can see me better. a tear slips from the corner of my eye, travelling down my cheek, “tell me that it’s hasn’t always been her.”

“y/n”

this was the make it or break it point. i pray that if he tells me that it genuinely meant nothing, then we would maybe be fine.

my lip quivers, “please just tell me that i’m the right one for you, that’s it’s just you and me until the end.”

his mouth opens slightly, but then closes.

shit.

i sharply inhale, trying to collect the racing thoughts in my head, “jeremiah, please… for us. just tell it meant absolutely nothing and that you don’t have feelings for her still.”

“y/n…”

“you owe this to me,” i cry, the tears falling faster than ever as i feel my heart starting to break, “just tell me you don’t see her like that anymore. i swear, if you just say that you only want me, i promise i’ll drop this all.

i will never mention this again. we can forget about this a- and we can go surfing tomorrow, we can take the jeep to get th- the muffins for everyone” i beg him, his thumb swipes the tears away from my cheek as his head drops, “just say you’re here with me.”

“you know i can’t say that” he whispers, almost as if he’s scared that someone else will hear him. or maybe because he knew that this was the ending point.

broken.

i step away from him. i stare at him, the boy i love more than anyone — but it’s not him. my legs feel like jello and my knees feel like they’re about to give out,

“i knew it.” i breath out, swallowing sharply, “god, i’m so fucking stupid.”

i can feel his eyes on me, but he says nothing. any ounce of our relationship that could possibly be saved if he could just say something to pick up the broken pieces.

but, nothing.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” jeremiah says sadly, “i never wanted to hurt you like this, sunshine.”

i roll my eyes as tears continue to roll, “you have no right to call me that. don’t even think about calling me when belly tells you that she doesn’t see you like that. you and i know goddamn well that she loves conrad. she only kissed you because he’s been brushing her off.”

with that, i turn away from my ex-lover and start walking away back to my own home. without even a glance back at where he stood alone on the empty streets, knowing that he had just lost the best girl he would ever have.

[thecapricunt1616]

Dad!Carmy x Beach Day

Okok guys more Dad!Carmy brainrot! It’s time for a walk *gently grabs your hand* okay okay so your first is away at summer camp for the first time, that was it’s whole ordeal (Carmy cried the whole first week they were gone intermittently bc he missed them esp. after you put your littlest to bed bc ‘the routine just feels odd babe we’re missing one’) so to turn his frown upside down you had been planning little outings so he wouldn’t just sit by the mailbox every day like a sad puppy waiting for the letters your kid sends home. Todays outing: A beach day! 

(More BTC 🫶) 

So as soon as your Toddler got up that morning and told you she wanted to make sand castles that day, the choice was easy. Seeing your sexy man carrying your little girl on his shoulders while you relaxed and enjoyed premium beach snacks that he’d pack for you and get some well needed tanning time? That was always a good day. 

By this time - Carmy has gone full dad mode because having a son old enough for sleep away camp and a daughter out of diapers that’s about 8 years of dad-ing, he has it all. Meaning, the man has yes - he’s gotten a truck. *Keep walking don’t look at me that way* because imagine he’d be like 

‘Babe- think, when we take the kids camping, or when we go on trips- we need something with a lot of space, plus it’s so comfy inside! And seat warmers! So you won’t get cold in the winter. And I can get a snow plow for the front so i don’t have to keep spending hours doing the driveway in the winter, and grocery shopping! Whenever we go to Costco we never have enough space and it’s so much safer you should see the safety ratings on this thing the guy really sold me on it. Unc was for it babe! He told me to go for it’  

Like he would have an endless amount of reasons but let’s be real. Little man, big truck - plus your son would think it’s cool. So you’d be all comfy up front with your cooled seats, your daughter in back in her little princess sunglasses and flip flops chewing on bubble gum to be like dad because after 6 years he’s just replaced cigarettes with nic gum and he hasn’t even considered quitting. Of course she’d have one of those little screen things on the back of the seat and bluey is on deck, or Ms Rachel if he’s feeling particularly educational that day. 

He would of course stop at Starbucks when you and your daughter ask and get her a lemonade and a cake pop, get you your signature drink he’d already have memorized for years and then a black cold brew for himself - I still can’t picture the man having anything in his coffee he still seems like a black coffee dude to me!!! 

When you get to the beach he has the whole set up. I’m talking he has the truck bed loaded, he has a beach cart and everything. You are a beach cabana family you are that family. Because let’s be real if Carmy is anything he’s prepared and every family needs that guy so Nat and Richie and all the nieces and nephews would also come hang!! He’s researched and found you the comfiest beach chairs, he has a timer on his watch and is carrying the baby to the tent and baptizing her ass in sunscreen but it’s funny because you have to force him to let you get his back 

He would totally be the sand art uncle, he would help his daughter make the sickest sand castle ever, he would teach Evie his ways too like he’d have a whole method with adding water to build a base he would be in there. Oh!! And he would loooove taking his daughter hunting for seashells. Like imagine you’re just watching as he walks back and forth with her on the shore, bright blue bucket in one hand and her little hand in another, crouching down whenever he finds a cool one and doing the same when she finds one she wants to show and bring like

“Wow! That’s a pretty one baby, I can’t wait for you to show mama that one!” He would be so supportive omg. Also teaching her how to write her name in the sand 🥹. Don’t even get me started on him bringing her swimming. She would absolutely love the game of holding onto his back while he dives under the water and he’d tell her like “take a deep breath we’re gonna go under ready!” And he would just tire her out within a few hours so that she could take a nap on his chest in the cabana after you have lunch and get a chance to talk. Premier sandwiches of course, Carmy has mastered the beach sandwich. Doritos, the whole lot. 

Oh!! Oh!! And he is a total grill master. He has a little charcoal grill he makes you guys smash burgers on the beach and you get to hang and watch the sunset, around the 4th he would always bring sparklers for the kids they would be heavily supervised of course because Carmy plus fireworks is a nervous wreck but sparklers are ok 

And of course on the way home your daughter would beg to stop for ice cream and he would be suckered in because he is absolutely the pushover parent. 

To end the day if you came home and checked the mailbox and there was a fat letter from your son detailing all of the stuff they’ve been doing that week along with a ton of pictures from the polaroid camera you sent him with it would be a day he gushes about literally forever ingrained in his memory. 

Okay, I hope you enjoyed our walk 🫶

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 23

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | AO3

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They're on the front page for about a week.

They run the stories of Hopper and Henry Creel simultaneously - honestly, Eddie kind of thinks the fact that Hopper was presumed dead and is now back makes it easier for people to believe a previously assumed dead guy is the top suspect for the murders.

Eddie gets barely a mention clearing him of all charges. There's a couple of articles about him and Steve fighting off Henry Creel, but the focus is more on Steve than anything else.

Steve bitches about it, about how they did the same thing after Starcourt, but Eddie's kind of glad his name isn't plastered all over the place anymore.

He and Steve are down in the kitchen scrounging up celebratory snacks and beers - Steve has a clean bill of health, and Eddie's stitches are coming out in a few days - when the phone rings.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve speaking," he greets.

Eddie barely has time to decide he's absolutely going to tease him about that later when the response comes - loud enough for him to hear it.

"Steven, my boy!" the voice booms, spirited and affable.

Steve closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Hi, Dad."

"We just heard the news!" Steve's father says. "Why didn't you call to tell us? Did the earthquake damage anything?"

Part of Eddie thinks he should leave. Or at least back away, so he can't hear everything that's being said - but the other part of him thinks that Steve'd push him away if he didn't want him here, and with how tense Steve's gone next to him, Eddie can't bring himself to pull away.

"The house is fine," Steve says. "Loch Nora didn't get hit at all."

"Good, good," Mr. Harrington says. "Your mother hears you and Rachel have been volunteering with the relief efforts?"

Eddie didn't think it was possible, but Steve goes even stiffer.

"Robin," he corrects, his tone smooth and entirely void of inflection. "Yes, we've been coordinating donations."

"That's what I want to hear!" There's a sound like a loud clap. "I'm glad to see you're taking this seriously. You had a lot of ground to make up for, but it seems giving you a dose of reality has paid off. We'll be able to have some real talks about your future soon. What? Oh, your mother wants to talk to you."

There's a shuffling noise, then a quieter and much less friendly voice greets, "Steven."

"Hey Mom," Steve's posture relaxes a little. "I told Dad we made it out okay."

There's some kind of response, but Steve's mom is too quiet for Eddie to make it out.

"No, of course I didn't file charges. I knew you'd want to handle it if anything else happened." A pause. "Yes, that Carver. Mom, it's not - yeah. Yeah, okay. No, it's just him. I think he's just mad that people listened to me and not him. Yeah, I - all right. Bye."

He hangs up the phone, leaning in with one arm braced against the wall, a long line of tension.

"Steve?" Eddie says quietly.

Steve turns to face him, giving a little crooked smile. "You can ask if you want. I don't mind you and Robin knowing. It's… easier sometimes, if she expects it, and it's probably the same with you."

Eddie aches a little. "What was your dad talking about? What ground to make up for?"

Steve makes a face. "I did a lot of damage to the Harrington image the last bit of high school, you know. Stopped caring about my reputation, didn't get accepted into any of the colleges they wanted me to go to, kept getting into fights."

"But that wasn't - did they even ask you what actually happened?" Eddie asks.

"They don't care what actually happened," Steve replies. "Just what it looked like. Like I said, it's all about appearances with them. My dad's the main reason I worked at Scoops instead of being a lifeguard again last summer - he says it's because I needed a real life experience, learn what it means to work at the bottom, but he was just pissy and trying to humiliate me. He talks a big game about working hard, but all he really cares about is how I make them look. Now that I've gotten good press twice, he's happy again."

Eddie's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "He didn't even ask if you were okay."

Steve shrugs. "I looked fine in the papers."

Right.

Appearances.

"Will you be mad at me if I punch your dad if I ever see him?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a surprised little sound like he's startled by it. "No," he says. "But only if I get to punch yours for leaving you."

Oh.

If Eddie was thinking about it, he'd have moved slowly, making sure to telegraph what he was doing so he didn't startle Steve, but he reacts on instinct and pulls Steve into a hug.

Steve doesn't even flinch at the sudden motion. He just melts into it, letting Eddie wrap him up and hold him tightly. His arms come up to cross over Eddie's shoulder blades, the placement automatically mindful of his injuries in the way only someone who's bandaged them multiple times could be.

"Sometimes I wish they just wouldn't call at all," Steve admits, face buried in Eddie's neck. It comes out in a rush, like he hadn't really thought about it before he said it, but he's getting it out anyway. "That they'd just cut me out of their life, instead of stringing me along."

"Fuck them," Eddie says. "I've got you."

He can hear Steve swallow, and Steve hugs him tighter.

They stay like that for a long while, until Eddie finally pulls back.

"Hey," he says softly. "I'll get the food and stuff. Go upstairs and see Robin."

Steve looks uncertain. "You sure?"

Eddie hugs him one more time. "You've got two soulmates," he murmurs. "Let us take care of you a little, okay?"

Steve squeezes him tight, then lets go with a nod before heading upstairs.

Eddie dithers in the kitchen for a bit, taking an extra long time. Whatever his complicated feelings are, it doesn't bother him at all to give Steve and Robin some space like this.

They're talking when he comes back, which isn't a surprise, and he hears his own name as he gets closer to the bedroom. Eddie pauses, even though he shouldn't, listening through the cracked door. He'll feel worse about it later, probably, but right now the masochistic side of him can't resist the urge to know what they're saying about him.

"I want him so much, Robs," he hears Steve saying, low and soft like he's trying to be quiet.

"I know," Robin replies, her tone somehow managing to be both gentle and snarky at the same time. "It's kind of pathetic."

Steve lets out a muffled groan. "Not helping. I don't exactly have the greatest track record at being able to get over people! I thought, with my soulmate-"

He cuts off, and Eddie can't help the bubbling anger that springs up. Steve thought? Has he stopped for one second to think about how Eddie might feel, only ever having a platonic soulmate? Wanting him just as bad and not being able to have him, not being able to have anyone?

"-someone else?" Robin is saying, like she's reading his thoughts, and Eddie has to hold his breath as he makes sure he hadn't accidentally said that outloud.

"I don't want anyone else," Steve says miserably. "Just him. I think - I think it's always going to be him. Fuck, why does this have to be so complicated?"

There's a heavy, thick silence, and Eddie's anger simmers and crackles under his skin, the way it always does when there's a hefty mixing of guilt in it.

"Do you think-" Robin starts, then stops. "Do you wish-" She stops again, voice thick with emotion. "Would it be easier if we-"

"No," Steve says, cutting her off at the same time that Eddie realizes what she's probably trying to bring herself to ask.

There's the muffled sound of shuffling, quiet hitching breaths - probably the motions of Steve trying to reassure one of his soulmates that he wants her, and he imagines him gathering her close, pressing soft kisses anywhere he can reach, cutting off anything she tries to say with a deeper, fiercer kiss.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper to keep himself from making some kind of sound to give himself away. He hates that he doesn't know what he's feeling - hates that he thinks he's jealous of Robin just as much as he doesn't feel jealous of her, not really. He's jealous of the images he conjures when he thinks about them together, but he's never actually jealous when he's with them, when he watches them.

That reminder makes him shift, peeking through the cracked door so he can see them. They're sitting facing each other, legs all tangled together. One of Steve's hands is covering Robin's heart, and the other is curled around one of Robin's hands, pinning it to his chest over his own heart, and their foreheads are pressed together.

Something in Eddie settles in a way he can't explain, all thoughts of jealousy gone.

"There's no me without you," Steve is saying. "You're a part of me, Robs, I can't do this without either of you."

She says something too muffled for Eddie to make out.

"I'm happy. I really am, I promise. I love you, I love us, exactly the way we are. And with Eddie-"

Eddie leans forward, too desperate to know what he's going to say to worry about being caught.

"I don't need anything else other than just him. However I can have him. If it's never romantic, if this is us forever - it doesn't matter, not really. I just need you and him, and the kids, and I'm good."

There's silence, the two of them just completely wrapped up in each other, and fuck, Eddie - he thinks you know what, if this is it, if what he has is Steve and Robin and the kids forever, then he's good, too.

"I love you, Robin Buckley," Steve says. "In a way I never realized was possible, until you and that dumb kid showed up in my life and taught me that you don't have to do anything to earn someone's love. That sometimes, it's just unconditional."

Steve was sixteen when he fought his first demogorgon, Eddie remembers that. Which means he couldn't have been any younger than that when he started really spending any time with Dustin or Robin, which means - the same thing that Eddie went through when he first moved in with Uncle Wayne, the thing that was so impossible for him to believe at twelve, Steve wasn't shown until he was probably seventeen.

Fuck, his heart aches.

"Does Henderson know he was your first true love?" Robin asks, her voice a little wet, but obviously trying to make things a little lighter.

Steve laughs, the sound just a bit thick. "No, and he'd be insufferable if I told him."

There's the faint sting of a new lie being written on the back of his calf, and the second he registers it, he hears Robin's startled laughter. Eddie pulls back from the door, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to get himself back under control.

"Oh my God, Steve, you did tell him! When?"

He can hear Steve sputtering and deflecting, the sound of Robin smacking him and Steve scrambling - probably trying to avoid them - and if there was ever going to be a good time to announce his return after shamelessly listening in for too long, now is probably it.

Eddie pushes open the door, six pack under one arm and bags of popcorn and chips under the other as he shoots a hopefully only slightly manic grin at them. "What's Steve lying about now?"

"Nothing!" Steve says too quickly.

Sloppy, for him, considering Eddie knows how good Steve usually is at using sarcasm or half truths to avoid telling lies, so Eddie tosses the bag of popcorn at him.

He catches it easily, of course, but it means he's now vulnerable to Robin's attacks, and he has to swerve to avoid another slap to his shoulder.

"Steve's trying to pretend like we both didn't get that lie, too," Robin says.

Steve groans. "Fine, Jesus. It was back when we were waiting at the camper, and Dustin was upset. I told him that he was the first person who was ever just - there, in my life because he wanted to be, even after he didn't need me to fight demodogs. No one could ever replace him."

"You're such a sap, Steve," Eddie teases him as he comes to sit next to him and Robin.

"Shut up," Steve grumbles. "That's it, I'm picking the movie."

—

The next day, Lucas and Max swing by. Steve hauls a basketball stand out of the garage and sets it up in the driveway, and Eddie sits at the kitchen table, eating a bologna sandwich while he watches them play.

It's safer inside, where there's no one to see if he gets affected by Steve's tank top and shorts.

Or at least, he thought it was safer inside.

"Do you love Steve?" Max asks, plopping down beside him.

Eddie chokes on his Coke, and she stares at him unsympathetically until he manages to breathe again.

"He's my soulmate, so." Eddie shrugs.

Max gives him an unimpressed look, and yeah, okay, he figures they both know soulmates aren't a guarantee of anything. Eddie's parents were soulmates, after all, loved each other more than anything else in this world, and that still hadn't been enough.

"I wanted him to be my soulmate before I knew it was him," he admits, because that's a more true answer without actually having to say yes or no. "Nothing's happened since to change that."

She gets this look on her face like she's trying to decide if that's an acceptable response. After a moment, she rests her chin on her knees, staring out the window, and Eddie figures he's in the clear.

"Steve has two soulmates," she says after a while. "You don't. Doesn't that make you feel - I don't know, like you aren't enough?"

"Jesus Christ, Red, you're not pulling any punches today, are you?" Eddie swears.

He doesn't actually want to have this conversation. It's not something he's completely sorted out on his own, yet, even though he's done a lot of thinking on it, and he's tempted to tell her to mind her own business.

But she won't look at him, and he knows why she's asking. She's not talking about him and Steve and Robin, not really.

He thinks about telling her something standard about soulmates, or maybe even the advice that his uncle gave him, but it doesn't feel right.

"It's not what I always imagined," Eddie admits slowly.

Max doesn't say anything, but he watches the way she starts to unwind a little, how she doesn't hold herself so stiff, tilts a little to actually listen to what he's saying.

"You know Steve and I talked to each other when we were younger. We thought the same way about a lot of stuff, and I had this idea in my head that he was some little outcast like me, in another small town somewhere out there, that we'd move to a big city and find each other. But then we stopped talking."

"How come?" Max asks, looking caught up despite herself.

Eddie grins at her, wide and self depreciating. "I found out he was probably some rich, popular jerk, and decided I hated him."

And there's that unimpressed look again.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie grumbles. "Let's just say there might be some truth to not talking with your soulmate before you actually meet them. Point is, for almost five years, I hated my soulmate. Thought the best I could hope for was that we'd meet when we were thirty and ancient, and maybe then he would have changed. Then a little while ago, I met Steve."

Max's brows furrow. "You met Steve way before that."

"Nah," he says. "I knew of Steve. I had a lot of assumptions about him, knew what I thought he was, but I didn't know the real Steve. That Steve I met when he helped explain all of this to me and didn't make me feel stupid for not picking up some of it right away, even after I held a broken bottle to his throat."

She snorts, but looks like she's considering that. "I met him when he was putting himself between me, Lucas, and Dustin and a hoard of demodogs, a couple of hours after calling them dickheads and me some random girl."

Eddie salutes her with his can of Coke, half in understanding and half to cover the way his heart wants to melt again. "That Steve was nothing like I imagined my soulmate to be, when I was daydreaming about him or hating him. But I knew I didn't want anyone else, and Steve having another soulmate doesn't change that. I don't think it makes what he feels for me any less than what I feel for him, and I don't think it means I'm less important to him than he is to me."

Max frowns. "Really, or are you just saying that?"

"Really," Eddie says, though he hadn't actually been sure it was true until he heard himself say it. "I'm not saying it's not hard sometimes. And sometimes I get in my head about it. But I wouldn't change it. Steve wouldn't be the same without Robin, you know? He wouldn't be the Steve that made me want him to be my soulmate so bad."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, "Would you be saying that if both of his soulmates were romantic?"

Eddie's glad he stopped drinking, because he knows he would have choked again. For a split second, she wonders if she's picked up on - but no, that still isn't what this about. "Are both of yours romantic?"

Her jaw juts forward, arms hugging tighter around her knees. "What if they were?"

Fuck, he doesn't know what to say to that. "It's okay to like both guys and girls," he says, because he feels like that's the most important bit. "I do. I mean, mostly guys, but sometimes girls."

Her grip loosens a little, but she still doesn't say anything.

"It sounds like maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to about that," he says carefully.

She scowls. "I talked to Steve already."

Right, of course she did.

"What did Steve say?"

"Steve said he thinks the line between platonic and romantic soulmates isn't as straightforward as people like to pretend it is. That sometimes what you might think should be romantic is actually platonic, and sometimes what you think should be platonic is romantic, and sometimes there's going to be things that blur the lines and you don't really know which one it is. He said it was okay to have two platonic or two romantic or one of each or, like, any combination." She makes a face here, like she's not entirely sure what he meant by any combination - or like she was sure, and didn't need that much detail. "That as long as everyone was communicating, it was okay to do whatever worked for us."

Eddie swallows. "Steve sounds pretty smart."

Max rolls her eyes. "He has his moments."

"So… are you communicating with Lucas and El?" he asks.

She picks at a rip in her jeans. "I talked to Lucas."

He waits, but it seems like that's all he's going to get. He starts to ask what Lucas said, but… he gets the feeling that it's not necessarily about what he said or not.

"But it's Lucas," Eddie says. "And you wanted to hear how someone else in a familiar situation felt."

Eddie gets that familiar, itchy feeling that he does when he wants to run, and he only barely resists the urge to bounce his leg up and down. It's not that he wants to run from Max, or even from this conversation, it's just - it's starting to make him think about things, and he really, really doesn't want an audience for this. He wants to lock himself in a room and pace, listen to some music, maybe scribble out his thoughts, something to get his hands moving and his brain in some kind of order -

"Even if Steve wanted both of us romantically," he says, knowing it's close enough that it's not a lie. "I would still rather be his soulmate than anyone else."

Max looks at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment. "I'm gonna ask Steve if you lied about that."

Eddie fixes her with an unimpressed look right back. "You think I'd do that to him?"

"You better not." There's an edge of menace in her tone, but she lets it go, so Eddie figures she doesn't really think he'd lie about something like that knowing it would be etched on Steve's skin forever.

Silence stretches between them, and Eddie follows her gaze out the window, watching Steve and Lucas playing basketball.

"I've put him through so much already," Max says, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

Fuck, Eddie is so fucking soft for these kids.

"You have not," Eddie says immediately. "You haven't done a goddamn thing, Red. Both of you have already been through so much, and it's not because of something either of you did. It's fucking Hawkins."

She doesn't look convinced, so Eddie pushes his shoulder against hers.

"Lucas is smart. He's more emotionally intelligent than I am-" Max snorts at him, and he's reasonably sure he hears her mutter something along the lines of like that's hard, but he ignores her. "He knows what he can take and what he can't. All you have to do is believe him when he tells you it."

She's quiet for a moment, looking contemplative. Then she asks, "Does that work for you?"

Right, yeah, okay, he deserved that one. He thinks about deflecting, but -

"I'm trying," he admits quietly. "What do you think, huh, you gonna let me beat you there or are we gonna do this together?"

Max glances out the window again, then turns to look back at him, her chin jutting out. "Steve loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often. I don't think he really believes that we love him as much as he loves us, even though we do."

She says it like a threat, like she's saying if you tell him I said that I will kill you or maybe if you hurt him I will kill you. Either way, he'd be dead.

"I'll talk to Lucas and El, and you make sure you don't disappoint him."

Goddamn if that doesn't stab right to the heart of him, lodging itself beneath his ribcage and sticking right into the parts that'd already made him want to run from this conversation.

"Okay," he manages to get out, because he's not sure he'll survive any other answer.

Max nods. "Good talk," she tells him, and then she pushes herself up and she's gone.

Eddie stays there, mulling all of that over. He doesn't think she'd actually tell Steve anything they just talked about, nor does he think she really has any idea that Steve had asked him to make their bond romantic and he'd turned him down. Honestly, Eddie could probably get away with patting himself on the back for actually managing to give some decent advice and be the person she'd needed him to be for just a little while, then go on being a very devoted platonic soulmate for Steve.

Except even if Max doesn't really know, Eddie does. And now Eddie's thinking about things he doesn't want to, and wondering how much of a hypocrite some of the advice that he gave her makes him, and -

"Hey," Lucas says, and Eddie yelps.

Lucas raises his eyebrows at him.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that," Eddie bitches.

There's a little smirk, but fortunately, Lucas doesn't actually comment on it. "You talk to Max?" he asks instead.

"Yeah," Eddie replies, narrowing his eyes at him.

Lucas lights up, though, his whole face practically beaming with his smile. "Good. I figured it'd help her to hear that your soulmate cares about you no matter what from someone who wasn't me."

Eddie raises one eyebrow. "How do you know that's what I said?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Because you're Steve's soulmate. If that wasn't the way you felt, Robin would know, and she'd have already murdered you."

Eddie considers that. "Okay, fair."

Lucas makes his way over to the fridge, yanking it open and standing in front of it as he peers in. "So what did you tell her?"

Eddie sits back, waiting until Lucas turns to look back at him so he can shoot him a wide, smug grin. "If she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

He gets a glare in return, but Lucas doesn't protest that, just leans back in to grab a pair of Gatorades from the fridge. He twists the top off of one, taking a long swallow before he shuts the door and starts back out of the kitchen, giving him a little nod as he passes.

"Hey, Lucas?" Eddie calls before he can leave.

Lucas pauses, looking quizzically at him.

"I'm guessing you talk to Steve like Max does, about all this." Eddie makes an exaggerated gesture between them and out the kitchen window, meant to loop all of them in together. "But, uh. You know. If you ever want a different perspective, from someone in kind of your position."

He motions to himself, then splays his hands out all ta-da.

Lucas hesitates, lingering in the middle of the kitchen before he seems to make a decision.

"I was kind of upset about it when I first found out Max's other soulmate was El," he admits. "It was right after Billy died, and their soulmate bond was new, and Max kept letting El in while she was shutting me out. And I was angry, and jealous, and then when El had to leave and Max kept pushing me away, I just kept thinking that if El was here Max wouldn't be by herself so much, that the wrong soulmate got to stay in Hawkins."

Lucas pauses, twisting the Gatorades in his hand, but Eddie gets the feeling it's a gathering his thoughts pause more than a waiting for Eddie to say something pause.

"Eventually I realized that El could help Max in a way that I couldn't, and that maybe that was the point. I started calling El a little, too, when the phone wasn't busy, and just - El was grieving, too. I didn't want to feel jealous over something that helped them both anymore. It's been good with El back, really good. I don't know if I like El like that, but if Max does-" he shrugs. "I guess I kind of already got over the jealousy bit. It doesn't really matter to me if they kiss while they're having sleepovers or not, as long as they don't exclude me."

Now it seems like a waiting for Eddie to say something pause, so he gives a soft little hum. "What do you do if you end up feeling excluded?"

Lucas blinks, like he wasn't expecting that question. "Uh. Well, before, I talked to my parents and sometimes to Steve or Robin or Dustin. It's hard talking to Mike or Will about it because they're not all that objective about El stuff. I don't… really know if I want to tell my parents about Max and El like that yet, so I guess… talk to Steve or Robin or Dustin." He pauses, then, more tentatively, "Or you?"

Fuck, these kids keep getting to him. "Or me," he agrees easily. "But you should probably also add talk to Max and El to that list."

Lucas makes a face, but doesn't disagree. "I don't think a lot of the others know about Max," he says instead. "Just me and Steve and Robin, and now you."

There's an edge to his voice, like he's pretty sure Eddie must be safe if Max told him, but he's ready to fight him about it anyway.

"Max knows about me, now, so we're even," Eddie replies, pleased that the effort he puts into making sure his voice sounds steady pays off.

"Yeah?" Lucas asks. "Who else knows?"

"Steve and Robin. And now Max and you," Eddie replies.

Lucas lights up a little. "Cool."

"Cool," Eddie echoes, even though he feels a little shaky from the fact that he's now said it twice today, which is double the amount of times he's ever said it before at all.

There's a comfortable silence for a moment.

"It's complicated, being in our position," Eddie says after a bit. "I think it's always going to be complicated. But if we let it - I think it could be really great, too. Most people only end up in pairs, but us? We get a whole damn party of interconnected soulmates."

"A party of soulmates," Lucas says thoughtfully, then grins. "Yeah, I like that."

"You're a good kid, Lucas," Eddie tells him, not sure if he really needs to hear it, but he still remembers the way it made him feel when Uncle Wayne said it.

Lucas ducks his head, looking a little pleased, even though he follows it up with a sidelong look. "Even though I'm kind of a jock?"

Eddie shrugs. "My soulmate is a whole jock. I guess that means I've got a little jock in me, too."

Lucas's expression shifts, turning mischievous, and suddenly he looks like the fifteen year old boy he is, and not a world-weary adult. It's nice, it's wonderful, Eddie loves to see it, except it makes him realize what he just said far, far too late to do anything about it.

In his defense, they were having a serious discussion, and -

Yeah, he's got nothing.

Maybe it'll be fine? Lucas is probably the most mature out of all of the boys, maybe -

"I don't know, man," Lucas says, slowly, like he's actually considering that. "We've all heard the rumors about Steve. I don't think it's something little you're gonna be dealing with."

Eddie gapes at him.

"I said you were mature," he bemoans, flinging his upper body over the top of the kitchen table just to make Lucas laugh harder. "I told Max you were emotionally intelligent! Begone from my sight!"

Lucas takes his Gatorades and leaves, still laughing at him.

—

"Max cornered me in the kitchen to threaten me today," Eddie says.

Steve snorts. "Of course she did. What about?"

Eddie shrugs, waiting for Steve to look at him so he can waggle his eyebrows at him. "She also threatened to kill me if I told you."

Steve shoves him, and Eddie falls back dramatically, sprawling out on the couch. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Steve, but he doesn't seem inclined to actually push him to reveal what he and Max talked about. Instead, Steve goes about shutting down for the night, checking to make sure all the windows and the sliding glass door are locked.

"Soulmate stuff," Eddie says. Or more like blurts out, before he can change his mind, to force himself to have to keep going. "She told me what you said about the line between platonic and romantic soulmates. Made me think about some things."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, stopping by the couch to look at him.

"Do you still want me, Steve?" Eddie asks, his heart in his throat.

He isn't prepared for Steve to shut down, for the way his face goes cold and hard and blank.

"Not cool, Eddie," Steve says, turning away and going back to the windows in the living room.

Eddie pushes himself up off the couch, then immediately doubts himself and sits back down. "Steve, what?"

Steve won't look at him, and he can hear the window locks rattling with the force that Steve's using to check them. "You're being a dick, man, come on. You can't ask me stuff like that."

"I-" he starts, then stops, his mind scrambling a little. Is he too late? Did Steve move on already, even though he told Robin that he wasn't going to? Is Eddie so easy to get over that even his fucking soulmate couldn't keep him? "What happened to it's always going to be him, huh?"

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, incredulous, and Eddie kind of wants to cry a little because he knows that Steve has started saying that more because of all the time they've spent together. "You were listening to me and Robin? What the fuck, man, you still think it's fair to throw that at me?"

"Fuck you, Steve, I know it wasn't a lie when you said that. Am I so fucking easy to just stop wanting, or are you that fucking fickle?"

"Eddie, goddamn, is this - were you testing me? Is this you lashing out at me again? Because I can't, okay, not about this, I can't-" he cuts off, one hand scrubbing over his face. "I told you, I can't."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

"Steve, no, I wasn't teasing, I - it was a real question."

Steve stills, pausing right by a window. The light of the moon catches on him, highlighting parts of him in pale silver while the rest of him is warmed from the soft yellow of the living room lamp. "Seriously?"

"Come on, Steve. I just picked a fight with you instead of asking what you meant, and you're surprised I'm not sure you still want me anymore?"

Eddie can hear Steve breathing out, then in, then back out again, watches as he lets some of the tension bleed out of his body. "I think I picked some of that fight right back. I'm sorry, I just - all right, let's go back, and I'll listen without making assumptions, okay?"

Yeah, okay, Eddie can do that.

"Max told me what you said," Eddie starts again. "And it made me think about how smart you are." He wishes Steve were closer, so he could see his face better, at the same time as he wishes he couldn't see it at all. "How brave you are. How when you know what you want, you go for it, how you fight to keep it, how you own up when you make a mistake, how you work so hard to make all this work."

This is Eddie trying to be brave, he thinks. Trying to go for what he wants, to accept that they're going to have to work at this, that he's probably going to get hurt, that he has to trust that Steve will be willing to work past whatever it is that springs up.

It takes him a little too long, though, because after a few moments, Steve gently prompts, "Eddie?"

"Do you still want me?" he asks again. He didn't mean to, but it comes out anyway, all small and tentative.

"Eds," Steve breathes out. "I'm always going to want you."

He loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often, Max had said, and Eddie swallows down the urge to ask him if he means it, if he'll still mean it the next time Eddie picks a fight, or every time he's an ass.

"I'm always going to want you, too," Eddie says.

Steve's hands twitch, and he looks like he's waiting for something - for a lie to show up on his skin, Eddie realizes, and Eddie knows he's going to have to do better than that.

"I want you," he says again. "Steve, I want you. I'll take you any way I can get you, but I just - this is stupid, I'm stupid. I'm making us both miserable because I was scared."

He's not surprised that's what gets Steve moving, and he comes over to sit by him on the couch.

"You're not stupid," Steve replies. "Not for being scared."

Eddie shakes his head. "No, but I am for giving into it. So I might get hurt, so what? I'm already hurting, wanting you so bad and not getting to have you, knowing you'd probably let me kiss you and not letting myself go for it."

Steve's looking at him, eyes all sharp and intense, like he's really listening to Eddie's every word, and hell if it doesn't make him feel just a little bit drunk on it.

"Talking with Max made me realize that I trust you. I trust you, with my life, with - fucking everything. I trust you to work through this with me, to figure out what works for us."

Steve runs a hand over his jaw, going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yeah?" he asks after a moment. "You really - you want to do this?"

"So fucking much," Eddie says.

Steve's whole face lights up in a smile, and he leans in, one hand resting on Eddie's knee. "That mean I can kiss you now?"

Eddie barely manages to get out a please before Steve's other hand is sliding over his jaw, slipping back to push his fingers into his hair and cup the side of his face. Steve holds him there as he kisses him, and it's-

It's not Eddie's first kiss. But it's his first kiss that's ever really meant anything, and the soft brush of Steve's lips against his makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Steve gives a little hum, low in his throat, and then he's tilting his head to get a better angle, and holy shit.

Eddie pushes forward eagerly, deepening the kiss until they're both panting for breath, and even then they don't pull away. Their foreheads press together, lips parted and just barely touching as they share the same air. His eyes have closed at some point, but now he opens them to find Steve looking back at him, and Eddie smiles.

"How long do you think until Robin notices we haven't come up?" he asks.

"I'm okay with figuring that out," Steve replies, closing the tiny bit of distance between them to kiss him again.

I've got a pretty good handle on the outline for the rest of this now, so I'd say we've got about four more parts left!

-----

Part 24

Tag list (always happy to add more): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

[valewritessss]

I saw someone on TikTok say that Percabeth is one sided and all I could say is that it looks like someone didn’t read Mark of Athena. Then I did some research and I found out they’re a Pereyna shipper(I had no idea that existed).

Personally, I don't get it, Reyna literally just tried to make a move on Percy but he rejected her and neither of them thought about it again so I don’t really see it. Either way, that's not the issue because I don't really care what people ship as long as it's not weird or creepy (I'm looking at any Artemis x Percy, Luke x Percy, Annabeth x Luke, or Percy x Nico shippers).

But back to the Percabeth is one sided thing, I’m a little bit confused. Because, did they miss the Annabeth pining silently but obviously for Percy for YEARS, Annabeth being jealous of Rachel partly because she liked Percy, Annabeth telling Athena that Percy is everything to her, Annabeth driving herself crazy those months Percy was gone and searching for him without giving up. So “Percabeth is one sided” where???

Then upon further research I found that of course, turns out they are an Annabeth hater(they don’t admit it but it’s obvious for apparent reasons). Some of their reasons: Annabeth's nickname for Percy, “seaweed brain” is degrading and implies he is stupid, Annabeth is mean to Rachel, and Annabeth is scared of Percy which made him feel like he deserves to die.

1. Annabeths nickname for Percy started out as teasing but became endearing for the both of them, just like the nickname “wise girl”. Percy even gets mad at Thalia for using this nickname because he considers it something solely Annabeth can use. In no way has Percy ever said or even mentioned that he feels put down because of the nickname. Also, Percy never hesitates to call anyone, even gods, out on their shit, so if it was really bothering him, he would most likely say something.

2. Honestly, the whole deal with Rachel was never that deep. Like, it did have a deeper meaning for Annabeth than many could comprehend but the whole catty part was never that big. A few snide remarks, sure, but it's not like she was bullying Rachel. If anyone thinks otherwise, that's okay, but in my opinion it was meant to be funny and it came off as such, and even Rachel and Annabeth themselves moved on and became fiends. Moving forward, considering the context of Annabeth's jealousy, it makes total sense for her to feel resentment towards Rachel. I'm not saying it's justified, but if a boy she'd been crushing on for years and is destined to die soon spends his last summer with another girl who is closer to normal than Annabeth could ever be, in what world would she not be mad? In fact, some of it was just teenage pettiness. And that's fine, she wasn't hurting anyone. Being a teenager with a crush is hard, and it's harder when you're a demigod with a huge prophecy hanging over you and your best friends heads. So is her anger justified? Maybe. But is she valid? Absolutely.

3. This is the most ridiculous reason yet. First of all, has Percy ever told Annabeth he feels like he deserves to die? I don't think so. Especially not before he almost let himself die with Jason there. I don't know if that person was just expecting Annabeth to guess, or what. Secondly, they were in Tartarus, and Percy did something scary. So of course, Annabeth is going to be scared. If Percy feels like Annabeth being scared makes him want to die, that's not really Annabeth's fault. And to expect Annabeth to make him feel better about something she is still recovering from herself doesn't make much sense, does it. At this point it just felt like they were going to hate Annabeth regardless, and these weren't actual issues they had with her they just saw a reason to hate her and went for it.

Hey, ship whatever you want and hate whoever you want, but don't come with false interpretations(that I know was easy to comprehend) as evidence for why you are right, please.

[tarisilmarwen]

RobStar Week 2024, Day 4 - Downtime

(Summer vibes here we go.)

---

The summer sun was out and not too hot. Crime was taking a lull. There was nothing pressing that he had to work on, no reports, nothing to inventory or re-order for Tower supplies, no paperwork to file.

So Robin had invited himself along on Starfire's trip to the mall, turning it into a bit of an impromptu date.

They bought cinnamon sticks from a vendor in the food court and sat under the skylight, yellow sun streaming down on them and warming the otherwise cool air of the mall.

"This is nice," he sighed, sneaking an arm around her waist in contentment.

"Indeed," she agreed. "It has been too long since we just did the hanging out together."

Robin munched on a stick until there was enough left to just pop in his mouth and swallow, then leaned back on the short wall with one hand. "What's left on the list?" he asked.

Starfire pursed her lip, staring into the distance blankly as she mentally ran over her tasks. "There is a new vampire suspense novel that I wished to purchase for Raven," she said. "And then I wished to see if the new Rachel Tanner album is out." She set the empty cup down, twining her fingers sheepishly. "And then... perhaps..." she trailed, blushing a cute shade of pink, "...since you are here... I may try on some dresses at the Gold Gala?"

Robin's brain quit functioning for about two seconds and then he cleared his throat loudly, averting his face and feeling heat rush to his cheeks. "Uh, sure Star," he squeaked. "Whatever you want."

She giggled and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I do so love how flustered you get," she teased.

"What?" he grumbled, crossing his arms. "You're gorgeous and it does things to me."

"And it is adorable." Starfire rose to her feet, grabbing up the cup and stepping the three feet to the trashcan to dump it. Then she held out her hand, a gentle, affectionate look on her face.

Robin ducked his eyes again, but reached up to take her hand, letting her pull him up. He moved immediately into her personal space, wrapping an arm around her waist again and keeping her close to his side.

Wordlessly, with an unspoken signal, they began making their way across the food court.

This was... comfortable, Robin thought, leaning his head a bit into her shoulder. He loved moments like this with her, moments where he could forget all the pressures and worries of hero life and just be normal.

If he closed his eyes, blocked everything out, he could pretend they were just two regular kids having a date.

The hustle and bustle of civilians in the mall around him settled into him like pleasant white noise, lulling him into a sense of calm and peace.

-TT-

He let Starfire pull him from shop to shop, because of course they didn't only visit the bookstore and the music shop, her endless curiosity had her dragging him into multiple other shops because something caught her eye, and he watched her press her face and hands up to the glass of windows or squee over a cute plush toy or watch in fascination as a clerk demonstrate how to make the bar soaps she sold.

God, she was pretty.

They'd been dating almost a year and his heart still thudded to a stop at the sight of her, very evident when she finally led them into the formal dresswear shop and began sampling merchandise for him.

Dark sapphire blue was definitely her color, he decided, as he gaped slack-jawed at her, at the shapely form-fitting sparkly number with the leg slit up to there that was like a sledgehammer to his brain, making him incoherent jelly.

When he finally wiped the drool away and collected himself, he bought it for her while she was distracted with another section, admiring the strappy sandals that were currently on sale.

Not too long afterwards, he held her hand as multiple shopping bags bounced between them, the sunlight tickling on the back of his neck, pleasant and warm. They walked along the sidewalk, leaving the shopping complex, enjoying the summer air and the quiet and each other's company.

He slid his eyes towards her, shyly, heart warming at how calm and happy she looked.

"I had a good time," he told her, speaking up and breaking the comfortable silence.

"I as well," she murmured. "Thank you," she said. "I am glad you chose to be with me."

Warmth and happiness bubbled under his sternum at the words, and he wanted to say something super cheesy in return, something about how he would choose to be with her every single day if she'd let him.

But instead he just enjoyed her vibrant presence, and their footsteps tapping on the pavement, the quiet waft of the sea-tinged breeze and the pleasant sunlight and said nothing.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter twenty-eight | wide awake

percy jackson x fem! reader

Finney’s screaming echoes up the stairs and through the walls.

Rachel’s yelling doesn’t cease.

Your father’s crass words do not stop, weighing in on your heart at an astonishing amount of kilos.

The Caesars’ Jerk It Out plays so loud you know for sure that either your dad or Rachel will come up the stairs and throw open your door and demand you turn it off, that it’s making Finney upset. You won’t tell them, either of them, that your music is the least of baby Finney’s worries; his screaming parents are the ones hurting his ears.

Usually, you would rush to Finney’s side and pick him up where he’d be crying in his bassinet, desperate to make him stop in his distress. But lately, there is much less a longing to comfort him and more a longing for all of them to shut the hell up. It isn’t fair on Finney, leaving him in tears. But you’re tired of playing parent. You’re tired of playing mom.

The end of the song comes around too quickly, and you pause, waiting for the sound of footsteps. Drawers slamming echo from the kitchen below your bedroom, telling you they aren’t finished with their argument. Neither one will win—they will go to bed in silence, and wake up the next morning as new people; no apologies; no talking. They will just go. Go on.

It all started over a piece of pizza.

“Anyone else want the last piece?” You’d asked, reaching across the glass table for the last slice.

“No thanks, babe,” Rachel dismissed. The food aeroplane flew to Finney, and he giggled, chubby legs kicking in his high chair. One slipper lay abandoned on the cold tile floor, the other barely hanging in there on his chubby foot.

The night before the Big Move. Pennsylvania to New York City. Everything was packed up in boxes and cushioned with styrofoam and bubble wrap, ready to be transported across the country. New York, your father said, would be a good move for business and the family. The Upper East Side would be like your dream come true, he’d convinced you. You’d love it.

New York, he promised,

would

change

your

life.

In the later years to come, he had been right, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. In many ways, you were very, very grateful for your father’s selfish move. The idea of New York, at the time, was loud and scary, but it brought you to the next chapter of your life, filled in gaps you didn’t know existed yet, and bridged the way to new friends and family. You would forever be grateful to New York for all that it gave you and all that it stood for.

You fell asleep to the sound of a vase smashing, peaceful with violence.

—

Two years later, a summer in Australia once would have seemed like a dream. After a good few weeks at Camp Half-Blood, having made new friends and uncovered the side to you that always felt missing, a summer relaxing in Sydney felt right. Of course, the occasional monster popped up here and there as Travis had warned you they would; when you became aware of who you really were, the monsters became more aware of you, as well.

It was nothing you couldn’t handle, though: small creatures with gills and sharp teeth swimming in your toilet water, and a strange creature digging it’s way up from a beach’s sand to bite you. When they had been eradicated and sent back down to Tartarus, you could enjoy the rest of your days in confidence and peace.

“You should come up some time,” you lay on the floor of your room, on the phone to Travis. “It’s really nice here. My dad’s in a better mood, too these days. Rachel’s kinda moody but—Rachel? My stepmom. And Finney’s just—Finney? He’s my brother…”

At first, it was calm. Your dad seemed in better spirits, and Rachel liked her job. Finney’s first birthday had passed by without you, an occasion you thought would have affected you more than it did.

Your first night home, you slept soundly. Rachel woke you with your favourite pancakes and toppings. You flicked through the tv in your new bedroom and basked in the bright sunshine streaming through your open window. Australian heat was a different kind of heat, but one that was very much welcome, and your days became heaven on earth. Bright blue waters and sunny skies, and white sand so hot it almost burned your skin.

Only one thing spoiled your summer vacation—the moods you had forgotten all about, and ones you’d grown less accustomed to. Your father’s sudden snapping, and razor-sharp tone; his demands and never-ending list of chores.

“Why don’t you ever do the dishes?” You sighed one evening, as the sun began to set. “Or, like, look after Finney?”

“That’s a woman’s job, really,” he’d answered briefly, texting on his phone at the dinner table—something only he was allowed to do. “And the women take care of children. It isn’t much of a man’s job. Haven’t you noticed, yet, hon?”

The more the weeks rolled over, and September was drawing to a close. And things only grew more tense. After a whole day of watching Finney from dusk until dawn, your father also in the house, your striking point came at the sight of dirty dishes piled up in the sink, only straight after you had washed and put away the last ones.

“Oh, come on!” You exclaimed. “Dad, seriously?” You worded your next sentence carefully. “Could you wash up your stuff, please? I’ve got things to do. You’d be helping me out a deal, really.”

Only silence met you in response. From the kitchen table, in the open-plan area, Rachel raised her eyes from the baby to you, a warning.

“Rachel can finish the rest, then.”

Something struck your heart hard, and strangely, anger accompanied the feeling. “Why? They’re your dishes. We’ve finished.”

And, long story short, as per usual, an argument occurred. But this time, it involved smashed porcelain, and cuts across your bare feet.

The next morning, her car was missing.

“What’s going on with Rachel’s car?” You asked, standing at the dining table, plucking blueberries from the plastic bowl. Oddly quite was the house, much too early for Finney to be awake, and Rachel who slept beside him every night.

Dad flicked the page of his newspaper. “Head gasket’s gone. The garage said to just scrap the car.”

You nodded along, and walked away, as quietly as possible on the tiles. You couldn’t miss the uneasy feeling in your stomach, though, that something was horribly wrong.

The next weekend, you proposed an idea.

“There’s this thing in town I saw earlier,” you said, hanging around the end of the kitchen counter.

“Oh yeah?” Your dad looked your way, smiling briefly. He flipped over the bacon in the pan, sizzling away.

“Yeah, some pizza place. I thought we could all go out tonight, maybe? It’d be nice to get out for a while.” You watched his face for any changes. There weren’t any. Because he hadn’t been listening.

“Hm?”

You blanched. “What do you mean, huh?” You laughed it off, trying to make light of it. “I just told you!”

“Yeah…go grab the plates for this, will you?”

It didn’t come as a surprise to you when only weeks later, heading into late October, things went too far, and you called Travis Stoll for a bit of advice involving credit cards, plane tickets, and the act of stealing.

Days later, his birthday arrived. Around other family members, he was a changed man. You tried explaining to the one person you felt might believe you.

“He loves you,” your grandma squeezed you. “He’s your dad. All parents love their children.”

Into her shoulder, you mumbled, “‘Has a funny way of showing it.”

“That’s just your dad. He’s such a kind man. Of course he loves you. Don’t doubt it.”

You thought of the smashed window in your bedroom, and the dirty dishes in the sink; your plate of cooked food taken from your hands just because he wanted it—he’d take from his children first. Your thoughts turned to Rachel and her roses trampled into a mashed up mess in her bedroom, and Finney in tears.

“He doesn’t love me,” you shook your head. “That’s not love.”

—

The man in the leopard-print shirt sipping a can of coke looked up, unbothered.

Eyes wide with annoyance, you waved your hands about. “Where’s Chiron?!”

“Hello to you, too,” Mr. D. drawled. He flipped over a couple of cards on the table. Behind you, chaos roared. “How rude. Is that how you say hello to somebody?”

“Hello! We’re going to die! Where’s Chiron?”

Mr. D. considered it, tilting his head side to side. You wanted to scream at him, but that for sure wouldn’t get you anywhere. Dr. Thorn’s monsters were onto you, and you were outnumbered.

“About to die,” he mused. “How exciting. I’m afraid Chiron isn’t here. Would you like me to take a message?”

You looked away, unable to believe it. “We’re done for.”

Thalia, gripping her spear, shook her head. She looked more determined now than she had done the whole journey. “Then we’ll die fighting!”

“How noble,” said Mr. D, stifling a yawn. “So what is the problem, exactly?”

“The problem is that you’re an a—!”

“There’s this thing, the Ophiotaurus,” Percy cut in, literally barging into you to get into the god’s sight. “We think it’s…”

He went on to explain Bessie and his powers, and how you thought he was the creature which needed hunting down and killing, all this time.

You observed Mr. D. observing the cards in his hands. “Hmm. Is that it?”

“You don’t even care!” You screamed. Zoe hushed you. “You’d rather watch us be shot to death!”

“Let’s see; I think I’m in the mood for pizza tonight.”

You’d become so angry you practically buzzed on the spot. Percy pulled you to the side so quickly you almost got whiplash.

You considered channeling your inner-Ares and letting your anger go on the pudgy, old god, but before you could, Percy gasped, pulling you tight to him, back-to-back. You were surrounded by Thorn’s monsters, decreasing the space between them and your friends much too quickly for your liking. The manticore threw off his coat and transformed into his real self, chuckling in such an animal way that it sent chills down your spine.

“Excellent,” he said, eyeing the Iris Message. “Alone. Without any real help.”

“You could ask for help,” Mr. D. mumbled down your ear. Glaring at him from the side, you tried harder than you ever had to contain your anger. “You could say please.”

“The day I say please to you will be the day I’m on my deathbed!” You hissed. You felt Percy turn his head, ruffling the back of your hair. “There is absolutely no way in hell I will ever say please to you! Ares would have a better chance of being on the receiving end of my begging!”

Zoe readied her arrows; Thalia raised her spear, and Grover prepared his reed pipes. Percy’s elbow dug uncomfortably into your rib, and you knew then that Percy would not let any of you go down without a fight, without trying to protect you.

Though where the thought and the confidence in your best friend had come from, you could not tell.

Fury burned in your bones, and you were about to wave your hand through the misty air beside you, when you caught sight of Thalia, crying. And it suddenly occurred to you that this had happened before, to her. She had been cornered in life, and driven to her death by ignorance.

And if you were to let it happen again, if you were to let your anger and stubbornness get in the way, you too would die. There would be no saving Annabeth, no making it right with Rachel, and no last look at the best friend who you stood with back-to-back, trusting wholly in one another.

So you inhaled and exhaled quickly, and looked to Mr. D.

“Please,” you ground out, sure that every emotion showed in your eyes. “Please, help us.”

Of course nothing happened.

Your organs plummeted to your feet, and Thorn grinned.

“Seize Zeus’s girl. She will join us soon enough. Kill the rest.”

The men raised their guns, and something strange twisted the air. It was as if the pressure plummeted. Everything tinged purple—the sunlight, the ground, your skin, and everything smelled of expensive wine.

SNAP!

It was the sound of minds breaking at the same time. One of the skeleton men placed his gun between his teeth and ran away on all-fours. Another suddenly dropped to his feet as his bony body fell apart. The others followed suit.

“No!” The manticore roared. “I’ll handle you all myself.”

His tail bristled, but before he could make a move, the wooden planks beneath his paws erupted into grass and grapevines, wrapping around the monster’s body, growing and growing and wrapping until he was completely covered in vines and bright green leaves. The manticore was covered, and suddenly, all noise and movement stopped. And you knew for certain that somewhere in the vines and leaves and mess, the manticore was no more.

In silence, you all turned to Mr. D, rifling through his refrigerator.

“Well, that was fun.”

An eerie feeling had settled pretty quickly in your body. “How—why—how—”

“Such gratitude,” he rolled his eyes. “The mortals will come out of it. Too much explaining to do if I made their condition permanent. I hate writing reports to Father.” His attention turned on Thalia, hardening. “I hope you learned your lesson, girl. It isn’t easy to resist power, is it?”

Thalia blushed as if she were ashamed.

“Mr. D!” Grover was in awe. “You saved us!”

“Mmm. Don’t make me regret it, Satyr! Now get going, Percy Jackson. I’ve bought you a few hours, at least.”

“The Ophiotaurus,” Percy asked desperately. “Can you get it back to camp?”

Everyone waited for Mr. D’s reply, watching for an answer. He rolled his eyes.

“I do not transport livestock. That’s your problem.”

“But…where do we go?” You asked.

He looked at Zoe. “Oh, I think the huntress knows. You must enter at sunset today, you know, or all will be lost. Now goodbye! My pizza is waiting.”

Just as your small gang began to get itself together and get going, Percy spoke one last time.

“Mr. D?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“You called me by my actual name. You called me Percy Jackson.”

“I most certainly did not, Peter Johnson! Now, off with you!”

He waved his hand, and his image disappeared.

All around you, the manticore’s men were still acting insane, and you figured you only had a while before they were after you again.

“What did he mean, ‘you know where to go’?”

Zoe’s face was the colour of fog. She pointed across the bay, past the Golden Gate. In the distance, a single mountain rose up above the cloud layer.

“The garden of my sisters,” she said. “I must go home.”

——

Sorry this one took so long, guys! What do you think of y/n and her dad’s relationship so far? I rewrote that part so many times. I’m interested in how you guys are going to perceive it. There is of course more to come for y/n and her family, and more to show for before her days at camp. There’s also more Percy scenes, more Travis scenes to come, and a whole lot of the sense of feeling like she belongs.

Thanks for reading ! :)

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky @emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl @crackerphobic20 @mata0-0mata @jccc1000 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

[youkissedareaderinthedark]

i need more gay percy jackson fics. i need male best friends to lovers with Percy Jackson. i need slow burn. pining. tension. THE WHOLE 9 YARDS. I’m literally gonna do it now

. Male bff and Percy meet at camp in the first book. Boom. Instantly best friends

. Fuck the rule of “only 3 demigods per quest” Grover and Annabeth can come too, but Bff goes on every quest with Percy because they are chaotic yet brilliant when they work together

. Around Titan’s Curse, Percy and bff start developing feelings

. Percy just wants to be with bff all day long and not deal with all the godly stuff

. Bff worries more then usual about percy

. The fourth book is where things really start to escalate

. When Percy goes missing on Calypso’s island, bff goes feral

. Nobody is able to stop him from searching for Percy

. He searches new territory every couple days to make sure he isn’t missing anything

. Bff is heart broken when they declare Percy is dead

. He isolates is his cabin and only comes out for the funeral

. It’s only when he and Percy meet eyes he stops sad crying and starts happy crying

. Annabeth hugs Percy but his eyes are on bff

. After Percy leaves the big house, he instantly goes looking for bff

. He finds him sitting by the lake, a spot they usually hang out at together

. Ik it’s cliche but it’s like time stops and it’s just the two of them

. Bff tackles Percy in a hug and focuses on trying not to cry

. They missed each other :(

. But the happiness doesn’t last long because Percy has to leave for the labyrinth and bff can’t come with him

. They see each other again when Percy comes back from the labyrinth right before the battle but they didn’t get a chance to talk and it was torture for the both of them

. Tension was high when bff and Percy met again after the battle

. Bff thinks Percy and annabeth are a thing, and Percy is just awkward

. They kind of avoid each other for the rest of the summer at camp, and it hurts the both of them

. Bff does go to the birthday party, and it’s like all tension is lost

. Don’t ask me to elaborate on that, they’re boys, I don’t get it either

. They hug and I feel like that’s when their feelings are actually established

. Percy’s like “damn I really missed you all this time, not just in a best friend way tho”

. And bff is like “pls never leave again I missed you too much. Maybe more than a best friend should”

. I think about a year passed between Battle of the Labyrinth and Last Olympian

. And in that time, bff and Percy visit each other as much as possible

. By now, bff and Percy are both 100% certain of their feelings, they just need to tell each other

. Tension continues to grow, especially when Percy tells bff of his and Rachel’s friendship

. Right before Beckendorf comes to get Percy, Bff leaves for camp half blood and he stays there until he has to go to Manhattan for the battle

. Before the battle of manhattan begins, bff and Percy seek each other out, just to see each other again before everything changes

. During the battle, Percy makes sure bff is near him at all times

. Bff has gone all these years without any serious/possible life threatening injuries, and Percy intends to keep it that way

. sike

. We’re gonna switch Annabeth for bff, so he takes the hit for Percy instead of Annabeth

. A wave a guilt hits percy when he sees bff nearly dead on the lounge chair

. In the moment when bff touches Percy’s Achilles’ spot

. They both feel the surge of electricity when bff makes contact with his skin

. The next day, right before the battle starts again, the boys takes one look at each other and are forced to accept that this could be the end

. Kronos’ army attacks and all hell breaks loose

. Percy and bff fight the drakon together

. While Percy goes to Olympus, bff was still fighting with the rest of the camp

. When Percy gets back to the street, bff is sitting wounded upon the Empire State Building

. Percy fixates on bff and and rushes to get him inside the lobby where he can hopefully find some healers

. But bff is too stubborn and insists he go with Percy to face Kronos

. Bff fights Kronos with Percy, Grover, and Annabeth

. During Luke’s final moments, bff and Percy are holding hands, a small gesture to make sure that they are actually here with each other

. The 2 of them stayed as close as they could to each other while they assessed the damage that the war brought

. When Zeus offered Percy godhood, Percy immediately thought of why he shouldn’t give up mortality

. and the boy standing outside helping wounded campers was the reason why

. They rode the elevator down from Olympus to the lobby, hands intertwined and shoulders brushing, but silent, because after that day, they both needed a second

. hahahahaha you thought

. Before they can express their feelings for each other, Nico tells them that Rachel went to camp

. So Percy, bff, Annabeth, and Nico go to Camp Half Blood via hippocampi

. They deal with the whole Rachel thing and start recovering from the battle

. Bff spends some time with his cabin while he lets Percy process everything

. But they reunite after dinner when bff gives him Percy his birthday gift

. It was a photo album

. “I thought it’d be nice to look through some happy memories, especially because of everything that happened today”

. Percy looks at bff like he is the whole world

. And to Percy, he is

. So he repays him in the only way Percy knows how

. He kisses his best friend

. He puts all 5 years of knowing this boy, his best friend, his light, into that kiss

. Making sure he knows that Percy loves him with all his heart

. Bff knows, because he whispers “I love you” without having to worry about his feelings not be reciprocated

idk how to end this

omg this turned out to be so long. I have no regrets though. Also, I’ve convinced myself to write an actual fan fiction of this. It’ll probably be on Wattpad, but it’s not gonna be done for a LONG time, and that’s if I even decide to go through with it. Props if you actually read this

[whitherwordswither]

05: Wrapped Up For Your Dreams, Again

Old Town, one of my favorite districts in the whole city. I had a lot of fond memories here. From hanging out at the local pizzeria and brew pub, to wandering aimlessly along the waterfront. The cherry blossoms in spring, late drunken summer nights and questionable choices.

Today, the streets were empty. Abandoned. That should have been somewhat concerning, but the sun was sparkling in the sky and a nice breeze was drifting along. It wasn't my focal point, so it didn't come off as out of place at all. My attention was glued on the two sophonts I was walking with.

These were friends I hadn't seen in I don't know how many years. We were idly chatting about our thoughts on the latest animatronic body horror jazz club ghost inception movie, Hyperbole, while we made our way toward one of the city parks. That was where Rachel's new house was. In a tree. She was very excited to have the owls over for tea and board games. My other friend, also Rachel, said we should all form a book club and read Derrida.

I wasn't sure he had all the words to keep the water wheel turning.

It wasn't long before I found myself losing focus, the Rachels faces becoming blank and featureless as their words turned from coherent to muffled gibberish. The world slowed and my vision tunneled toward an alley up ahead. All manner of vegetation and vines crept around the sides of the buildings, spilling out in to the streets like a thick viscous sewage from an old drain pipe. Pink and purple flowers blossomed between large, leafy fronds. Thorns pierced concrete and asphalt. Time froze. Everything aside from myself and the plant growth turned lifeless and gray, a scene of cement statues. My friends crumbled to dust.

The city followed suit in a cacophony of screaming birds. The vines beckoned patiently despite the collapse and chaos. I raced ahead to greet them as the dream destabilized behind me. They seemed delighted as they reached out, wrapping around my wrists and ankles, my waist, lifting me up and pulling me in to the alleyway. A very large, voluptuous venus flytrap was growing out of a pile of nondescript rubbish. It opened its maw in a yawn as I was brought toward it. I felt no fear response. No panic rose with bile in the back of my throat when the gaping mouth closed around me. The trigger hairs on the inside of the plant's lobe tickled my exposed skin and… I happily let it swallow me whole.

My next moments were spent tumbling down a membranous sinkhole of darkness, walls of silk squeezing around me, pushing. Further. Deeper.

The world turned upside down and inside out. Scenes and places from dreams I had superb recollections of… and also ones that I had forgotten through the years spiraled around me. I felt the distinct impression that I needed to choose one. I reached a hand out and grasped at the first scene that called to me. Ironically enough, it was a dream I had as a child. The setting was the house I had grown up in, my father's residence on the outskirts of the small town where Trimixthis had saved me from myself. The only difference was, in this dream, exactly as it had been before… the interior of the house was covered in wonderful and vivid flora. Small pools surrounded by crystals and minerals were in the spots in the living room where the furniture would have been. The windows still looked out over the deck and the pond below.

Thick fisherman's netting stretched across the arch leading to the kitchen, the island table strewn with all manner of urns, vases and pots of varying color. Succulents of all sorts grew, shivering and breathing in a more animate living state. The scene was so very surreal. I imagine I had chosen it because it reminded me of Trimixthis. It felt right.

And there they were. In the middle of the living room, connected with the dreamflora, smiling that strange and wondrous smile of theirs. I settled before them, looking up in to their all at once reflective yet depthless eyes, a few of their thinner vines caressing my cheeks and tracing the line of my jaw. When they spoke, it reverberated through the entire foundation, rippling outward. It made my skin crawl in a uniquely tantalizing way. "I am always amazed at how certain things remain so elegantly engrained in the human psyche. You haven't had this dream in…"

"Twenty-nine years or so…" I found myself answering, tethering on the entrails of their words.

"Fascinating, truly~" Trimixthis emitted what I took for an approximation of a chuckle as they smiled down at me.

A silence stretched between us, each caught momentarily admiring the other. I did notice a difference in the dreamscape then. It was much more than it had been, where as I only could recall the particulars of the scenery, how things looked and felt. Trimixthis presence seemed to add another level of life and flourish to it. Their song permeated through everything. If I wasn't careful I knew I would lose myself in that music, so I let my perception branch out… almost as if I could feel along their vines as they could. The house hummed its own song of being. Plants rustled in a calm wind that blew in through the open windows. The trickle of the stream that fed the pond and the bluegill grazing the surface of the water. Even the gentle sway of the large pines along the water's edge.

I ended up losing myself in a multitude of different songs until another rhythm broke me from my expanding absorption. A single vine tapped my left shoulder. I didn't notice it at first, but its continued persistence eventually brought me back to the living room and Trimixthis. They were still smiling. That same vine caressed my cheek. "My, my~ How easy you get tangled in the whirling essence of everything~"

I felt a heat rise on my cheeks as I dropped my gaze to the floor, hands idly occupying themselves with a still tendril that rested upon my lap. "Sorry," was all I could think to say.

"Don't be, sweetling. It's quite pleasant to observe. And quite a useful skill to have if you hone it correctly and not allow yourself to disperse in to obscurity." Trimixthis seemed to ponder something for a span of seconds. The notion was filed away as they shifted closer. "Earlier I asked if you had any questions. I believe you were a little too… wrapped up… to answer?"

My face scrunched in thought. Questions? I tried to retrace my morning despite the brainfog. Once I was able to pull apart the sparse memories of clothing myself and climbing up on to the couch where things really started to fuzz out, I found the inquiries I had not voiced at the time. They all jumbled together and came floundering out of my mouth at once. "Are we on… and the terminal… ship… space and… the doors lights?"

After that mess my mouth hung open in utter disbelief of its own transgression. How did words even? My brain hurt itself in its confusion.

The boisterous, beautiful sound that echoed through the dream was Trimixthis laughing. Flowers blossomed along their figure, vibrant and glowing. The sound carried on the wind and once more reverberated through the dreamland. They set a leaf beneath my chin and closed my mouth proper. "Oh, my stars… you darling thing~ Lets try that again. One at a time, shall we?"

Their vines smoothed through my hair and patted my head and I giggled sheepishly. It wasn't entirely my fault I was a pastiche of hazy recollections! But, oh what a joyous thing to feel their laughter. Every hair on my body stood on end. It was like being hugged by static that was giddy with warmth.

I cleared my throat with a nod and tried again to piece my words together in an order that would make sense for the both of us. "On… your terminal. There was a… ship. Departing…?"

"Yes. We are that ship. The terminal was displaying our trajectory leaving Earth. We should be arriving in orbit around Venus soon. I had Maraxus throttle our speed so we had time to get you a little more acclimated to things. I am afraid I have been… slightly careless with your xenodrug regimen. Honestly, I'm somewhat surprised you've maintained a modicum of self in all this. It was not my intention to foster an entirely vacant floret~ I only wished to pluck all the…" Their vines shifted much like I did with my hands when I couldn't conjure up the words I wanted right off the bat. "…unsavory petiole from your stem. Give you a… fresh start, so to speak."

I wondered about all that. Really. It took some effort, but a cursory poke around my addled mind revealed some disquieting blank spaces where I'm fairly sure, at some point prior to all this, existed… something. At the same time though, I wasn't overly concerned. The tiniest speck of a voice not unlike my own screeched pitifully from a far off void, begging for remembrance. I paid it no mind and even gave it the nudge it needed to plummet deeper and disappear. I didn't like the vibe it held. I didn't want to feel whatever it insisted I needed to feel. Instead, I beamed up at Trimixthis and clapped my hands together. "I thought never I'd get to going space!"

My head was patted again. I liked having my head pat. Trimixthis continued to smile. It was a such a lovely smile. "Chloe?"

"Yes?" I tilted my head and gazed up at them.

"Rephrase." They tapped my head once more.

Oh. Right. The words belonged in particular spaces in order to be understood. I licked my lips and thought real hard before allowing the words to leave my mouth again. This time though, I plucked them out of the air and arranged them accordingly. Because this was a dream and I could physically manifest my words if I felt like it! "I… thought… I would… never get to… go to… .." I hung on the last word, looking back over my sentence to make sure it was correct. "Space."

"Very good!" Trimixthis nodded. "I thought a nice trip off planet might be healthy for you. Now, do you want to know why we're traveling to Venus, sweetling?"

I had been curious about our destination. Venus was in no way shape or form hospitable for human life. But the affini were essentially plants, weren't they? Did Venus have something plants liked? A useful resource? I was trying my hardest to remember what compound Venus was in excess of, making strained little mouth noises as I tried to pluck the answer from the empty space between our bodies. Trimixthis pulled me on to their lap, and I cuddled up against them as I shrugged my shoulders, giving up. They seemed excited about it so all was well in my world.

"We've begun construction of an orbital platform for the collection of planetside resources. Primarily concerning the rich carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. Along with the sulfuric acids present in the cloud layers, these two compounds are highly beneficial to promoting cultivation. We've developed some lovely technology that allows us to utilize them in regenerative growth." They spoke as they let their vines worm around my dreambody, stroking and petting as they saw fit. "Carbon dioxide is by and large considered a waste product by your species, I believe. What is that cute little Earth saying? One organism's trash is another organism's treasure?"

My head bobbed with affirmation. Ah! Venus was rich in those things, wasn't it? Humanity, to my knowledge, had a passing interest in the second planet for a while. The abandoned HAVOC project from NASA came to mind. Which really hadn't gone past the theoretical stage… and after further discovery, any deep exploration ideas were scrapped for other ventures. I was intrigued by the idea of a station though, my brain immediately wandering off to dredge up fragmented memories of the first anime I'd ever seen in my grade school days that had featured an orbital ring that surrounded the Earth. Tekkaman Blade, I think it was. I wondered if I still had those DVDs somewhere…

"That is not an entirely incorrect vision of what it may come to look like, sweetling~" A light trilling fluttered in Trimixthis' throat.

I just blinked up at them. Wait. Could they read my…?

"Oh, petal~ We're in your mind. Of course I can. Silly thing." Their delightful laughter trickled across the scene, this time causing the vegetation to shift through an array of pleasing colors.

I guess that made sense. I wondered what the station was going to be like.

"Currently, there is a sizable portion that is cozy and habitable. More is being grown as we speak. I'm sure you will find it quite incredible! It is also, however, part of my job. I am an interface engineer. One of my primary duties is to make sure all our systems can connect and speak to one another. So I may become rather busy. But… not to worry." Trimixthis lifted me up above their head like a puppy, smiling up at me. I more or less dangled there and grinned down at them. "I have arranged for you to meet a number of playmates to keep you out of trouble while I'm working. While I am able to do most things remotely, I prefer onsite inspections when it comes to the more delicate bundles of sensory passthrough and~"

A distant chime sounded, something foreign. Trimixthis' attention was instantly pulled away. I could feel it. Like they were suddenly in another place, only faintly tethered to this dreamform. I tried to focus on the sound myself, because it felt so out of the ordinary. This just led to me getting caught up in the web of sensations, the flux and flow of the dreamscape like before and this time there was no tapping vine to bring me back from the ledge. I felt myself disconnect and dissipate in to the whole of everything. It would have been an ultimately strange experience had I been able to maintain cognitive recognition. Alas, the fog began to roll in through… the trees…?

I blinked, looking around. I found myself laying on a bed of soft, sweet smelling grasses in the clearing of a forest. Tiny yellow flowers dotted the small glade. I knew this place. It was usually a buffer space I envisioned on nights where I needed to coax myself to sleep. The trees stood like guardian silhouettes, the fog a comforting shroud.

Trimixthis was gone. I felt a bit of sadness that began to well in to an awful sense of desertion. Their song still echoed in some awkward proximity, but it wasn't quite enough. It was like the entire foundation of being had been suddenly ripped out from under me. I curled in to a ball and shut my eyes, rocking back and forth on my side as I began to hum the song. To keep it near. To not forget. I didn't want it to go. Why had they left me alone here?

The forest was beginning to not feel like the safety net it was supposed to be. I couldn't concentrate, the song fading by degrees. The abrupt snap of a twig had me bolting up and scanning the immediate area. Fear began to blossom within the tiny beads of sweat on my brow. I could wake up now, right? Please?

"Trimixthis…?" I whimpered under my breath.

Another twig snapped to my left and I whirled about in attempts to keep whatever it was in front of me. A huffed breath and a faint clicking noise echoed off the bodies of the trees. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The temperature dropped like my mood, my breath expelled in wispy ghosts that drifted up toward the fractures of night sky barely glimpsed through the canopy before the fog grew more dense and only a few feet of grass remained visible.

I didn't like this at all.

A soft, almost chittering-like noise came from my right. I turned again, scrambling backward as a shape took form in the fog and crept closer. The chill I was feeling was pushed back by an intense warmth extruding from whatever it was. In its own way, it was calming and my rising panic was lulled to a more manageable state. I sat up on my knees, trying to wipe the fog away by waving my hands through the air. A futile effort. I just… I wanted to be able to see…

That thought alone spawned a decrease in the atmospheric obfuscation. Oh, big words. My brain was working.

Crouched no less than two feet before me was a creature I'd never seen before. Certainly nothing I'd ever dreamed up before, either. I tilted my head to one side and it mimicked the movement. The elongated muzzle curved with a toothy grin as we locked eyes. It had a very canine-esque appearance that was somewhere between a quadruped, giving the look of its hindlegs, and a full on anthropomorphic embodiment, noting the more humanoid forelegs. It brandished six limbs altogether. A slightly smaller set of arms accompanied their main pawsy-grabbers. It also had a rather short tail that barely touched the grass that was currently twitching back and forth. That was a good sign, right? Not that I should be applying terran-dog logic to this dream-canid. I took a breath and managed to find my voice. "Hello…?"

"Hello?" It repeated. The voice was strangely pleasant. Just this side of sultry. Playful even, with overtones of mischief. Or maybe I was projecting because of the uncanny way the entity was smiling at me. It had a double set of triangular ears and two antenna upon its head.

"Who… are you…?" I asked, and unsurprisingly, it echoed the inquiry right back at me.

When it moved forward I found myself frozen in place, either severely unwilling to take my eyes off of the creature, or entranced in its gaze. I couldn't determine which. It circled once around me, leaning in close to sniff as if we weren't in a dream and scent was real. Could you smell things in a dream? I wasn't sure if I ever had olfactory senses in any slumber-space.

The dream-dog-thing settled back in front of me, raising its forepaws and placing them under my chin, tilting my head up as it looked me over. It tilted its own head from side to side as if inspecting a specimen. It's front bappers were more like hands than paws, I noted. It's smile widened, and my eyes did the same. "M-m-my… wh-what um… sh-sharp teeth you have…"

I had always wanted to use that line in some version of reality. This was probably a good enough place as any for it to be utilized. Mostly because I had no idea what to say and had more or less just blurted it out as I remained motionless in the creature's hold. The smile faltered on its twitching lips before it leaned back and barked a laugh. Before I knew what was happening it had plopped on its haunches and wrapped all four arms around me in a tight hug as it cackled, one of the paws petting my head. A series of trill-growls, strained crackling squeaks and chuffing noises were made. It sounded like an organic dial-up modem. But then the caniform spoke.

"Eeehee~ Mixi said y'was aaaaah-durable~ Rrrright as usually, they is!"

My brain completely glossed over the usage of a nickname for Trimixthis as I wriggled in the canid's grip, managing to gain enough leverage to lean backwards in its arms. I rather wanted to look at it while I spoke than mumbling in to its… distractingly super soft chest-fluff. Which my hands were totally, definitely not playing in. So warm. So soft. So inviting! Oh, right. I needed to focus. "Heh… I don't know about… um… any of that, but. I'm…"

"Chloe, yessss? We are Viremia! Pleasurable greetings!" Any fear that had cropped up in the last few minutes was all but washed away at this point. The manner in which the entity spoke and enunciated was oddly uplifting. I quickly found its demeanor to be infectious, in a good way. Even stranger was my inability to keep my hands to myself, as if I needed to explore every soft nook and cranny of this awkward alien-canine-valley of fur. And the smell! It weaved between peony and roses and fresh earth and something else that was indescribably enjoyable to breathe in. I guess that answered my question of dream-scent.

I buried my face in Viremia's neck as we tangled together and flopped over on to the grass. Trimixthis had said there would be playmates. Was this one of them?

Viremia made a content murring noise, stretching out and allowing me to more or less entertain myself in the daze of sensations their body offered. "We's been assigned t'keeps ya company while Mixi dealsss with ssssomethin' came-up-bruptly like. If y'wants t'bein'in th' waking-place, jus' say words. Rrrf~"

A reply of mumbled nonsensical acknowledgement sputtered from my mouth, my brain simply registering that I had been given a wonderfully soft waggy-tail organism to snuggle with while Trimixthis was doing Trimixthis things.

I could absolutely live with this.

[autisticlancemcclain]

cw for suicidal thoughts, ideation, & attempt

———

It starts again with the bone dread.

That sounds dramatic. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s making a big deal of something that really isn’t that huge, in the big picture.

But Lance can feel it, the dread seeping from his heart to his head to the marrow of his bones, feel his skin become leather and his feet leaden. He can feel the Grey coming, like he has for years, like he will for as long as he lives.

He is being dramatic.

He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care about much of anything.

It’s started, the apathy. It’s not even a struggle that he’s losing, because you can’t lose if you’re not playing.

He hasn’t touched his skincare routine in months. He can’t remember the last time he looked at his console. He’s starting to forget the sound of his own voice. It’s getting increasingly harder to force himself out of bed.

Lance is very, very afraid.

———

He thinks he was twelve when it first started happening. He’s not sure if he should blame the move from Cuba at such a plastic age, or the hormonal imbalance everyone starts getting at that age, but it really doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t remember exactly when it started. He didn’t document the slow descent, didn’t know to watch carefully for the signs. He has no idea when it truly began.

He does remember, with startling clarity, laying in his bed the morning after his twelfth birthday and thinking to himself: “Six more and you’re done.”

The next clear memory is overwhelming relief.

———

He hated snow from the minute he saw it. Despised it. It was beautiful when it was fresh, breathtaking from a distance, but quickly became tainted and slushy and cold and so, so empty.

Fitting.

He never understood why they had to move from Cuba to fucking Vermont, of all places. Anywhere else would have been better. Hell, he would’ve even taken Texas.

But no. Vermont was where Mamá’s work had moved her, so Vermont is where they went.

The summer they arrived was fine. Lance was grouchy, sure, but that’s because he had left his family and friends and life back in Cuba for stupid America, and he was upset about it. But he enjoyed mucking around the big forests with his siblings, and was excited to cart himself all the way to Arizona for flight school.

Flight school! So he could be a pilot!

The uniforms were ugly and the desert was plain, but classes were interesting and he had a roommate, which was totally different from sharing a room with Rachel. (Hunk was cool, and he was nice to Lance. Two things Rachel could never claim to be.)

He threw himself into his studies with a vigour, and several clubs besides. He hung out with Hunk every evening, even meeting some other friends and hanging out with them, too. The rec room had a pool table, and Lance had just recently learned what hustling was.

He was great at it. (Hunk was great at sending victims Lance’s way. They split the profits and used them to pay for weekends at the local town, which meant plate after plate of nachos and ridiculously fast go-karts that made Hunk blow chunks every time without fail.)

Things started to get hard, the longer the year stretched on.

The sun was fully set by five-thirty.

Lance didn’t know why that started to make his chest hurt.

He stopped going out on weekends, first. Lied to Hunk that his family wanted him on Skype calls, even though they’d never wanted that before. He didn’t know why he said it.

Hunk looked unsure, but smiled tightly and told Lance he’d miss him on the tracks.

Lance slept the whole time Hunk was gone.

He was…tired, all the time. He couldn’t look at his bed without thinking about how nice it would feel to be wrapped up in the blankets.

He stopped going to the rec room, next. First he made up a story about a cold he didn’t want to spread, then about grades that were slipping (they weren’t) and studying he needed to do. Then he invented a friend who lived in Australia, who Lance had to call every day and the time difference made it hard.

Hunk stopped questioning. They still hung out, after all, in between classes and right before curfew. For all that Lance had dropped all his clubs and rarely left his room, his grades had never slipped — all Garrison classes were group-based. Lance couldn’t let his group mates down.

Everything else was fair game, though.

Week after week, month after month, Lance went to classes and then went to bed. He didn’t even go home for the holidays, lied to his family and told them the Garrison didn’t have them.

He slept through Christmas. He didn’t even realize it was Christmas, actually. If he left his bed it was to shower occasionally. Time passed — or it didn’t — and Lance was none the wiser. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

It started after his twelfth birthday, but it kept on going, really. So long as he was conscious, every time he caught sight of himself in the mirror, he’s sigh, deep and long, and remind himself he only had a few years left before it was over.

Eighteen.

Eighteen.

Eighteen.

It’s not like he had any plans, or anything. He didn’t know why he was so sure he wouldn’t have to worry past eighteen, but he knew in his heart it was true. Probably made the whole piloting career a bit of a waste, but that didn’t matter. It was better than public school.

It happened on a random day in April.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk had said, digging through his closet for a hoodie. “I know you’re not huge on it, but a bunch of us are gonna go play pool in the rec room. You wanna come?”

A little surprisingly, Lance found he did want to come, actually. The sun warmed his skin from where it bled golden through their dorm window, and he was feeling kind of antsy.

“What are you talking about? I love pool. Think we can scam some juniors out of forty dollars?”

Hunk grinned.

———

He didn’t feel nearly so tired in the next few weeks. He must have been going through a growth spurt — although Hunk happily reminded him he was still a shrimp, for which Lance happily kicked him in the knee — and needed a lot of sleep. He felt a lot more energized now, though, and the air outside smelled so good. It made him want to run around.

He and Hunk went back to hustling older kids at pool, going to town every weekend. It was fun. Even when the desert heat started up again, Lance couldn’t find it in himself to complain. And when June came, and he and Hunk put in their roommate requests for next year, he was so excited to get home that he probably could have run the thousands of miles himself.

He missed everyone. He couldn’t remember why he didn’t go home for Christmas. He was a little guilty about it, too — did he really sleep instead of calling his Mamá?

The summer passed in a whirlwind of hiking and running and swimming and bothering Veronica at her new job. It was great. The heat settled heavy over his skin, even in stupid Vermont, and the sun burned his scalp and bleached his hair. It was wonderful. The joy carried him through the months, even when boredom seemed to drag, and he was itching to get back to Hunk and the Garrison by the end of it. From what he remembered of the last year, it had been decently busy and fun. Winter was a little fuzzy — finals stress muddles your memory, Marco claims — but he was ready to go back.

He couldn’t wait for the first day of school.

———

The next time the thought hit, it kind of…startled him.

He and Hunk had climbed their way to the roof, watching the sunset after a week of brutal midterms. They’d taken a million pictures of the clouds that they’d never look at again, but it was the principle of the thing, anyway. They’d stayed out right until the sun dipped below the horizon of sand and brush and cacti, until the stars twinkled out above the sky.

“Oh, fuck,” Lance had cursed, scrambling to his feet. “It must be late as shit. Did we miss curfew?”

Hunk checked his phone, and then huffed a laugh. “Nope! It’s only six, bud. We’re good. Man, I always forget how quickly the days shorten, huh?”

Lance swallowed. All of a sudden it felt like the lightness of the evening had evaporated, and a heavy ball of something settled in his stomach.

“Yeah,” he said, voice dry.

Hunk got up anyway, brushing the dirt from his pants. “We should head in, though, you’re right. It’s gonna get cold.”

He slung an arm around Lance’s shoulder — he’d somehow grown more over the summer, which was rude, because Lance had not — and headed towards the door.

“You want to head to the rec room for a bit? I think the RA rented a movie, or something. Might be cool.”

“I’m actually really tired,” Lance said, and it was true. He was. All he could think about was the warmth of his bed, of curling up in his blankets for the night.

“Aw, man, but it’s so early!”

“Feels like midnight.”

“I guess so,” Hunk relented, and squeezed his shoulders one more time before letting go. “You just gonna go to bed, or are you gonna go right to sleep?”

“I think I’m gonna pass out, honestly. Might be coming down with something.”

“Alright, Lance. See you in the morning. Love ya.”

“Love you, too.”

As he walked back to their dorms, he started to feel guilty. It was one thing to make his mom and siblings love him — that was kind of their job, he couldn’t really help it — but was it really fair to make Hunk love him? He wasn’t going to be around in a few years, after all. It was kind of unfair to have him stick so much affection and time on a guy who wouldn’t even be there once they graduate.

He froze, as he closed the door behind him.

Why wouldn’t he be there? It’s not like he was sick, or anything.

You just won’t be. It’s okay, though. It’s too late to change it now. Might as well enjoy it while you can.

That was fair, Lance supposed. Five years was a long time, anyways. And it was selfish, but it wasn’t like Lance would be around to feel guilty after, anyways.

———

The next year, shortly after Lance turned fourteen, his physics teacher left the room, and the guidance counsellor walked in.

“You’re all going through some pretty major changes,” she’d started, and Lance barely held back a groan.

Was this a sex talk? Were they really getting a sex talk right now? Lance had already endured the most painful one of his life over the summer. He couldn’t look his mother in the eyes for a week, after. Horrible. A general glance around the classroom showed the rest of his peers in a similar state of despair, even though everyone was desperately avoiding eye contact with one another.

“A big one of those is hormonal changes,” she continued, and everyone groaned.

She smiled wryly. “I’m not hear for that talk, as amusing as it would be to watch you all suffer.”

She…wasn’t giving them a sex talk? What the hell else does ‘all your hormones are changing’ mean?

“I’m here to talk to y’all about mental health. Your brains are in the most vulnerable state they’ve ever been in right now, and I’m willing to bet that none of you know the warning signs of trouble. None of you have parents watching out for you here, either, and as much as your instructors will try, it’s just not the same. Your best bet is to be able to recognize the signs of mental illness in yourself and in each other, and then ask us for help. Okay?”

The guidance counsellor was kind, but firm. She spent the next two hours systematically going over half the goddamn DSM-5, warning them off harmful stereotypes that take away from true symptoms.

“People who are depressed are not just puddles of tears who wail about their sadness all time time,” she said. “Most of them feel empty, if anything. Long periods of blankness, inability to do basic things like be social and even shower or get out of bed. Sometimes the blankness gets overshot by irritability, so watch out for that, too. But most dangerous, and the thing that requires immediate attention — watch out for suicidal thoughts. If you’re contemplating suicide, seek help immediately, even if you think it’s stupid. Am I understood?”

Everyone muttered some equivalent to ‘yes, ma’am,’ but Lance sat there in shock.

That couldn’t be him, right? He’s not suicidal. And he never misses class, even though she mentioned that depressed people often shirk responsibilities. And it’s not like he has a reason to be depressed, for fuck’s sake. He grew up in a loving home, more or less financially stable. There was bullying, of course, but who hasn’t been bullied?

He’s not fucking depressed.

He’s just growing. That’s all.

———

“Lance, buddy?”

“Mhm.”

Hunk sighed. Lance felt a little bad, but he didn’t have the energy today — class had dragged on so long. He just wanted a nap.

“I need to talk to you, Lance. You have to get up for that.”

“I’m really tired, Hunk. I had a long day. Can we talk tomorrow.”

“That is the problem, Lance. You didn’t have a hard day. Classes were light, we had lunch outside the caf, and you don’t have any assignments due. You’re tired for no reason.”

Lance summoned the energy to roll over, facing Hunk for the first time. He narrowed his eyes.

“I’m growing, Hunk, you know that. It takes a lot of energy.”

Hunk bit his lip. He spent a long moment staring at his hands, long enough that Lance considered rolling back over and going to sleep, but then Hunk steeled himself and looked straight into his eyes.

“Lance, I think you’re depressed. You need to talk to the counsellor.”

“Ha. Okay, sure.”

Rolling his eyes, Lance pulled the covers back up to his nose.

“I’m serious, Lance. You sleep all the time, you blow off clubs and stuff — I talked to your mom, you even blew off Christmas again this year — you get snappy randomly, and…”

Hunk trailed off for a moment.

“Well, dude, I’m worried you’re suicidal. You never talk about your future.”

In a burst of energy Lance hadn’t felt in weeks, he shot straight up, throwing off the blankets and glaring at Hunk with more vitriol he knew he was capable of having.

“I am not suicidal, Hunk. I’m not fucking depressed, either.”

Hunk held his gaze, unfazed by the venom in Lance’s voice.

“You are. You fit all the symptoms.”

“Maybe you should get checked out, because you’re apparently fucking delusional —”

It was Hunk’s turn to glare now, arms crossed and unflinching.

“You either go to the counsellor yourself, or I tell her I’m worried. Either way you have to talk to her.”

“Fuck off. No you won’t.”

“I will, Lance, I care about you and I’m worried —”

“If you really cared you’d leave me the hell alone! I am not fucking depressed!”

“You’re going and that’s final, Lance. If you don’t go, I swear to God I’ll tell the counsellor and I’ll tell your mother that you slept through winter break.”

Lance stilled. He looked at Hunk, examining his expression for any sign that he was bluffing.

He found none. Hunk was serious.

Lance’s face hardened. Well, he was fucking serious too.

“I’m not going. And if you go and snitch, I swear to God, Hunk, I will never forgive you as long as I live.”

With that he turned back over and shoved his pillow over his head. He couldn’t believe Hunk was pulling this shit — he thought they were friends! Did Hunk fucking want Lance to be medicated until he was brainless, or locked in a psych ward?

Apparently.

Whatever, though. There was no way Hunk was serious. He looked serious, sure, but eventually he’d drop it and they could move on.

Or, that’s what Lance thought would happen. It would be an understatement to say he was shocked when he was called to the counsellor’s office in the middle of class the next morning.

He looked at Hunk in shocked betrayal. Hunk, to his credit, looked guilty.

But he didn’t look sorry.

“Lance,” said the guidance counsellor warmly as he sat stiffly in the seat in front of her. “I’m concerned about you.”

Lance said nothing. She couldn’t diagnose him with a goddamn thing if he shut the fuck up.

She, unfortunately, looked unphased. “Your friend told me you sleep, a lot.”

“I’m growing,” Lance snapped.

So much for staying silent.

“I’m sure you are,” she said gently. “But it’s not normal to do this every year. To sleep more than you’re awake.”

“I don’t. I go to every single class. I do all my homework. I call my mother. I’m not depressed, and with all due respect —” that didn’t mean a lot, but he was spitting a good amount of attitude right now and as much as he very much was angry, he didn’t want shit for insubordination — “this is a massive waste of time. My friend is a worrier. I’m fine.”

She was quiet for a long time. Contemplative. Her hands were steepled in front of her, half-covering her face where she rested her head on them, but her eyes never left his.

“Do you think your friend will stop pushing this?” she asked eventually. “If I dismiss you, if I take you at your word, and you walk out of here, do you think your friend will accept that?”

Lance thought of Hunk, the most stubborn person he knew, determined to be an airforce engineer even though the sims made him sick.

“No,” he said petulantly. “He won’t.”

“Let me run a diagnostic, then. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you are just growing. Answer a few questions for me and we’ll see, okay?”

It was a long process. Long enough that it wasn’t even finished within the day — he had to make several more appointments with her, on top of seeing a specialist. Every visit made him angrier, all the time, and there was hardly a moment where he talked to anyone without snapping.

“Here’s the final deal,” she said, days later, making him miss a stupid class again to deal with this shit. “You’re right that you don’t have regular depression.”

Ha!

“You do, however, have one of the worst cases of seasonal affective disorder I’ve ever seen.”

Less ha.

“What’s that?” he asked irritably, somehow more annoyed than when he came here for the first time.

“It’s also known as seasonal depression,” she said, well used to his shit now and easily able to handle his moods. “The lack of sun makes your mood plummet. Your brain stops producing adequate amounts of stimuli, especially serotonin and dopamine. It’s as if your energy goes down with the sun in the winter months.”

Lance wanted to argue. He wanted to push and fight and deny, because that’s such a dumbass disease to have — really? His brain doesn’t work because the sun is too far away? What is he, a reverse vampire? — but that…makes an alarming amount of sense.

His energy does go down when the sun goes down.

“Fine,” he said sullenly. “I’m good now? I can go?”

“Not quite. I want to go over warning signs with you, and then your treatment plan. Then you can go, okay?”

“Whatever.”

She looked at him sternly.

“Lance.”

He deflated.

“Sorry,” he muttered. As much as this sucked, royally, it wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t at all fair to take it out on her. That, and she was an adult. If Mamá heard him talking like that to a grown-up she’d tear him a new asshole.

Besides, if there was one person to be mad at it was Hunk. If it weren’t for him and his snitching mouth, Lance wouldn’t even be in this mess.

“Are you going to listen to me, now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, I’m sure this symptoms will be familiar to you as I talk about them, but it should be helpful to have an outside source point them out. Do you have a pen and paper? I want you to write this down.”

Lance frowned. “I don’t need to.”

“One of the symptoms is a foggy memory,” she said, looking at him pointedly. “Remember how you told me you always forget how shitty your winters are when you get home? That’s not just willful ignorance. Your brain is actively refusing to store a lot of the memory you take in, right now. That’s also why your finals are so hard for you. Write down what I’m telling you, Lance.”

Lance scowled as he pulled out a pen and paper, even though what she was saying made sense.

Whatever.

“Alright, fine. Shitty memory. What else?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, kiddo. I know you’re frustrated, but I’m only trying to help.”

Lance bit back tears, because at the core of him he knew she was right, and he was being a huge douchebag, but it was like he didn’t know how to stop!

“Sorry,” he choked out again.

She softened immediately. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s hard. But we’re going to get you medicated, okay? It should help. It will make things way easier, hopefully.”

This time he listened carefully as she listed the warning signs, writing them down dutifully.

Exhaustion. Apathy. Unwillingness to leave bed, even if you’re not tired. Wonky appetite. Dread, from every part of your body, for no reason. Easily overstimulated on the rare occasions you do walk out of bed. Loss of interest in things you love. Feelings of desperation when it starts to get dark.

“And, most importantly — suicidal thoughts, or ideation. If you get that you come right to me, okay?”

Lance nodded, and she handed him a bottle of pills.

“Read over the label. These are antidepressants. You don’t have to take them all year — you’ll take them now, because you’re in the middle of an episode, but in the future you’ll only need to take them when you start feeling the symptoms with greater frequency. If you have trouble identifying that, start taking them in the first week of November. You’ll come here every morning after breakfast to grab them, okay?”

Lance furrowed his brow. “Come here? I don’t take them with me?”

“Think about it, Lance,” she said softly. “These are SSRIs. As much as they’re helpful, they can kill you easily. Do you understand why I can’t let you have the whole bottle?”

Lance scowled. “What, so I come here like a baby every morning for the rest of my life?”

“Not every morning. Just for the winter months, and maybe some of autumn and spring.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I get to be treated like a child for the rest of my life!”

“Not for that long, either. Technically we can’t withhold them from you past 18, although I would prefer it if you would allow us.”

Lance stilled.

Eighteen.

Another thing to look forward to, for that year.

“Do you understand, Lance?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I just have to let your mom know, and then —”

“You can’t tell my mom!”

The counsellor looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t have a choice, buddy. You’re a minor. She has to know about your medical treatments.”

Lance bit back a comment about how this wasn’t a fucking medical treatment — it was a waste of time — knowing it would only dig a deeper hole for him.

“She’s going to freak out. She can’t know.”

She smiled at him, although there was no joy behind it.

Pitying.

Lance wanted to throw up.

“She only wants the best for you. Promise.”

Lance refused to look at her. She sighed.

“Let’s just get it over with, okay? The number we have for her on file isn’t working. I need her number from you.”

That was right — Mamá changed her phone number in September. His file was outdated.

Suddenly, he had an idea.

“She never has it on her, doesn’t answer much,” he lied.

“Still need the number, kiddo. I can leave her a message.”

Heart pounding in his throat, Lance rattled off his own phone number.

They would never know.

How would they know?

“Alright,” said the counsellor after she wrote it down. “You can head back now, buddy. Come back first thing in the morning, alright?”

Lance muttered his compliance and stomped back to his dorm. Hunk smiled tightly at him with he walked in.

“How’d it go?”

Lance ignored him. He’d been doing that a lot, lately.

Hunk sighed. “I’m sorry you’re struggling, Lance. But you know I had to.”

Lance said nothing. Hunk sighed again, looking away. He looked hurt.

Lance couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about it. He told Hunk what would happen if he snitched — Lance has to be coddled by the staff, now, for dumbass pills that weren’t even going to work. It’s forever on his file.

He told Hunk. He did.

———

Three weeks later, Lance had to swallow his pride.

The pills did work, unfortunately. Turns out it’s a helluva lot easier to care about life when your brain works properly. Go figure.

(And, with all this newfound emotion, Lance has plenty of time to feel intensely angry at himself for being so broken. Not, like, in an emo way or anything — a disease is a disease, yadda yadda yadda — but did his have to be so stupid? What kind of brain relied entirely on the amount of time a giant ball of gas was in his eyesight? Real depressed people have a fucking reason to be depressed. Lance’s brain just fucking decided it wouldn’t work properly for six months of the year. It couldn’t even be broken year round! It had the capacity to work like it goddamn well should, it just chose not to. What a fucking joke.)

Now that every waking moment wasn’t consumed with the greyest of all apathy, though… Lance felt a lot of guilt.

A lot.

He’d been ignoring Hunk for upwards of a goddamn month, treating the guy like shit, and for what? Because he cared about Lance?

Lance had never been so ashamed in his whole life. Now he was avoiding Hunk for a while different reason — he couldn’t look the guy in the eyes.

But that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Hunk had that kicked puppy look every time Lance ducked around a corner to avoid him.

As much as it sucked, Lance had to own up to his shit. Their friendship was probably ruined, and Hunk was likely done with him, but still.

Responsibility. Lance could do with taking some.

“Hey, Hunk?” he said, well aware his voice was shaking. Hunk looked up at him in shock, surrounded by his friends in the rec room.

Lance swallowed roughly.

“Can I talk to you?”

Hunk stood immediately, wordlessly following Lance back to their dorm. He shut the door behind him, staring at Lance with wide eyes as he fidgeted.

“I’m sorry,” Lance blurted, after several minutes of tense silence. He felt the tears that had been stinging his eyes spill out at the same time as the desperate words.

“You were just being a good friend, just trying to help, and I was being a surly jackass and you’re right I am depressed but that’s no excuse for how I treated you and you deserve way better and I’m just really, really sorry and —”

“Oh, Lance,” Hunk said, and the next thing Lance knew he was being crushed in a set of strong arms. “Oh, Lance, I know. I forgive you. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Lance sobbed. “I treated you like shit for weeks. I ignored you.”

“I know. And that was shitty. But… you’re taking your meds now, right?”

Lance nodded, smearing tears and snot into poor Hunk’s sleeve.

Gross. So much for not making Hunk’s life hard anymore.

“Good. You’re getting better, okay? You’re doing your best. I forgive you. Okay?”

Lance nodded again, shuddering in Hunk’s arms. He still felt guilty, but it was no longer all-encompassing.

It was a hopeful kind of guilt, really. The kind of guilt that inspired you to move forward.

———

Lance’s next few years were pretty decent, all things considered. The meds really did help, as wildly dehumanizing as it was to sulk over to the counsellor’s office every morning with all the other fucked up kids to get his daily make-my-dumbass-brain-work-right pills. He learned to forget about the wounded pride as soon as he left, move on with his life.

He used that list religiously. Memorized the symptoms, repeated them endlessly in his head.

Apathy. Loss of interest. Exhaustion.

Suicidal thoughts.

He was never suicidal, he doesn’t think. Still isn’t. He never made a plan to kill himself, never wanted to jump off a bridge or anything. Sure he refused to think about his future, sure he thought idly about it ending it occasionally, sure he joked about throwing himself off the roof during midterms. But that was normal. Everyone made those jokes, everyone looked curiously over the rail on the highway. But he dutifully made his stupid way to the stupid counsellor’s office when the Grey — that’s what he’d taken to calling the stupid disease, because that’s how it made everything feel — set in.

He was careful.

Hunk was supportive, too. He knew to watch out for Lance, although he trusted Lance to watch out for himself, by now. Still, it felt nice to have someone care for him.

Mamá still didn’t know, and everyone else didn’t know that she didn’t know. Which was fine by Lance. The less people to know about his embarrassing shit the better. Plus, he only really saw her in the summer months, anyway, so she never had any reason to worry. It was fine.

He was fine.

He was handling it.

He had everything under control.

———

The very day he turned eighteen, Lance marched to the counsellor’s office and demanded his pills.

She was reluctant.

“You know it’s safer for me to keep them,” she said.

“I am not going to kill myself,” he responded.

“I know. But isn’t it easier to not have the risk? To keep it here?”

Lance folded his hands together and looked her dead in the eyes. “Words cannot explain how much I hate the stupid parade I have to do here every morning,” he said seriously. “It makes me wish I shut up and stayed quiet when I was fourteen so I never had to take the stupid pills to begin with. I’ve been working with you, ma’am, for four years, but I’m tired and it’s my right. Please give them to me.”

She sighed, but complied. Lance closed his fist around the ugly orange bottle and walked out without another word.

He sat quietly on his bed for a moment, when he got back from his dorm. He didn’t feel the Grey yet. He knew it was coming. It came every year.

But he wasn’t fourteen anymore. Did he really need to drug himself? He knew the symptoms, now. Knew what to avoid. When the Grey set in, he could just… not spend his time in bed. Go on more walks. Spend more time with Hunk. He knew how to handle himself, now.

Back then he was so uninformed. Of course he had depressive episodes. He didn’t know better.

But he knew, now.

Nodding resolutely to himself, he stuffed the bottle in the back of his sock drawer. He’d just do a trial. If he started to struggle again, he’d just take the pills. Simple.

He had this under control.

———

“You are, without a doubt, the worst pilot I’ve ever had in my class, McClain,” Iverson said coldly. “Get out of my classroom. Come back when you pull your head out of your ass and remember how to think.”

Lance did. He walked slowly back to his dorm, pretending he didn’t see Hunk’s sympathetic look as he exited the classroom. He took his time down the hallways, stopping to watch the streetlights flicker in the darkness out the windows.

What the fuck was he doing?

He’d been avoiding it for four years. Laughing away any question about his future.

But really, what did he have waiting for him?

He used to have his grades. But ever since he got bumped to fighter class, his grades had fucking tanked. He was dragging his team down with every fuck up — there weren’t even people relying on him anymore. Hunk had been needling him to come with him to town, to no avail. Lance just wasn’t feeling it. He’d been ignoring all Mamá’s calls, too. For no reason. He just hits decline before he thinks.

He was a bad student, a bad pilot, a bad friend, and a bad son. What the hell was he doing here? Why was he wasting time, wasting resources?

For years, his mantra had been eighteen. Eighteen, and you don’t have to struggle. Eighteen, and this’ll all be in the past. Eighteen, and you don’t have to worry about it anymore.

Well, he was eighteen, now. His birthday came and went. What the fuck was he waiting for? An invitation?

He told his counsellor he wasn’t suicidal, and he wasn’t. This was different. He was never supposed to live past eighteen, he knew that in his heart. You can’t be suicidal if you were fated to die anyway.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached towards his sock drawer. He searched around blindly — he hadn’t bothered with the lights — until he found what he was looking for.

He sat back against his pillows, turning the orange pill bottle around in his hands. It rattled — mostly full.

Strong pills.

He was pretty scrawny. It wouldn’t be hard.

Don’t overthink it, the thought to himself. Take a few, see how you feel.

He rummaged around in his bag for his water bottle, popping the lid and bringing it to his lips. He counted out six pills, threw them into the back of his throat, and swallowed.

He waited a moment.

What was he feeling?

Nothing, really. The Grey had long set in, he knew it, but couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about it.

He swallowed a few more pills.

Then a few more.

He kept going until he choked down the whole damn bottle.

It was disgusting. He felt that. Tasted like plastic soup, with all the nasty coating.

He carefully put back his water bottle, then shoved the empty pill bottle deep into his jeans pocket. He settled down into bed, over the covers. He was kind of hot, actually.

Should he write a note, or something? For his family? For Hunk?

No. That would be unfair. Might make them feel guilty, or something. Better to let him think he died randomly in his sleep.

He stayed where he was, drifting in and out of consciousness for God knows how long. It couldn’t have been more than an hour, because Hunk wasn’t back yet.

Damn. In the movies it’s a lot faster, dying.

His stomach starts to cramp, but he ignores it. He didn’t exactly expect it to be painless. He put a lot of foreign chemical in his body, after all, it made sense that it was trying to fight it off. It’d lose the fight before long, and Lance could sleep.

Only, he didn’t drift off, and the cramps didn’t fade. They got worse.

And worse.

And worse.

The worse the got, the more panic began to set in. God, he was going to die, wasn’t he? He’d never see his mamá again. Or his siblings. God, fuck, how was Luis going to explain this to the kids? Their brains were still developing. What if this traumatized them? Fuck, what if their brains get fucked up because Lance killed himself?

Lance scrambled out of bed. Oh, this was bad. This was really, really bad.

He sprinted to the bathrooms, but he was kind of dizzy. He couldn’t see well, he kept tripping over nothing. He finally collapsed over the nearest toilet, immediately shoving his fingers down his throat until he gagged.

He threw up, some.

But not enough.

His stomach was in agony.

He knew at once that he was fucked. Pills dissolve fast, and — fuck! He could barely think. He had to — he had to get to a hospital, or something. But he couldn’t call anyone. They couldn’t know.

With shaking, spit-soaked fingers, he opened the Uber app. The nearest hospital was only a twenty minute drive. It was fine.

He limped his way outside, blinking desperately to stay awake. He kept gagging, but nothing came up. He tried to remember some breathing exercises, calm himself down — it couldn’t be helpful to freak out any more than he already was. He’d just have to stay calm until the Uber arrived.

He stumbled over to it when it finally pulled up, not even bothering to check the plates. Hopefully it was the right car.

“To the hospital, dude? Should I… get a teacher, or something?”

“I’m an adult,” Lance rasped. “Please just go.”

The driver didn’t need any more instruction, hastily pulling out of the parking lot and whipping down the highway.

Well, Lance supposed he couldn’t feel any more nauseous.

They arrived to the hospital in what was probably record time, if Lance was not too out of it to actually record the time. He barely noticed when the pulled into the hospital parking lot, except to yank open the door and dry heave until he sobbed.

“Do you need help?” the driver asked worriedly. “Like, checking in or anything?”

“I’m good,” Lance lied, throwing himself out of the car and making a crooked beeline for the ER door.

He managed to hold himself together long enough to speak to the attendant. Explain what happened. Tell them what he took and how much. Hand them the bottle he had thankfully kept in his pocket.

Then he remembered collapsing onto the dinky plastic chairs of the waiting room.

And then nothing.

———

When he woke up again, he was groggy and confused, and his heart was beating way too fast. He felt like a hummingbird, like his heart was speeding quickly enough that it just sounded like one long hum. A beeping noise sounded from his left, and before he had the time to look to see what that was a nurse pulled back the curtain and approached his cot.

“You need to calm down,” she said gruffly.

“What happened?” Lance rasped.

She raised an eyebrow. “You tried to off yourself,” she said, like he was stupid.

Lance didn’t even have the wherewithal to flush, even though he was embarrassed. He was busy focusing on trying to breathe properly.

He didn’t notice as she left, drifting in and out of consciousness.

“We got a Snowy,” he heard someone say, voice floaty and underwater. “I’ll check him out. Cot three?”

Next thing he knew a hand was resting on his shoulder.

“Lance?” said a bland, deep voice. “Can you wake up for me?”

“‘M awake,” he mumbled. He voice shook, as did the rest of him. He couldn’t stop trembling.

“That’s normal,” said the man, who Lance assumed was a doctor of some kind, as he noticed Lance staring at his violently quaking hands.

“You took a truly mindbreaking amount of pills. I’m shocked you’re alive, although I’m sure you are too. We had to pump your stomach.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. Well, I have to check your vitals, and you have to stay in the ER until you’re stable, and then we’ll move you to the ICU. They’ll decide where you go from there.”

Lance swallowed, throat dry.

“C’n I ‘ve some water?”

“Sure.”

The man continued to check Lance’s vitals, leaving without another word. What felt like hours later — could have been minutes, or days, Lance could barely even remember where he was — a different nurse from before came in, handing him a tiny paper cup. It wasn’t nearly enough for his throat, which was drier than the desert, probably, but he took it anyway and thanked him.

Well, he probably did.

He passed out again after. Time went kind of fuzzy. He vaguely remembers trying to get up, to stay awake. He remembers spending a lot of time either sleeping or staring into the space in front of him, unable to blink. He remembers snippets of overheard conversations:

“It’s just so selfish, you know? There are people with real issues who don’t have a bed now. It was his choice.”

“God, is he making his fucking heart race on purpose? I swear I’m checking his stupid monitor every ten minutes.”

“Would he stop staring at me? What a freak.” Giggling. “I got a picture, look. What a creep.”

He remembers a lot of terror swirling in his stomach. He remembers that he wanted, above all else, to go home.

He remembers feeling afraid.

———

“I need you to wake up a moment, love.”

This voice was much kinder, and the cold fingers pressing gently on his forehead remind him of his Mamá. He forced his eyes open, blinking at the bright hospital lights blinded him for a moment. A middle-aged nurse was smiling at him when he could see again.

“We’re moving you to the ICU, kiddo. That alright?”

Lance nodded.

“Alright.”

She began untangling the various wires attached to him, then started to wheel him away.

“I can walk,” he protested, cheeks colouring.

He hesitated. “You sure, Lance? You’ve still got a lot to work out of your system. It might be better if I just push you.”

“I can walk,” he insisted. He wasn’t honestly sure if he could, but he didn’t want to be lying down as everyone in the hospital watched him be moved.

“Alright,” she relented.

Luckily, so long as he held on to the cot for help, he could walk. She led him carefully down a series of hallways, until he was wheeled into a room divided into four.

“You’re going to be here until the drugs are completely flushed from your system,” the nurse told him. “Then we’re bringing you up the the paediatric psych unit. Don’t worry though, sweetheart. They’re the best of the best.”

“Paediatric?” he questioned. He was more worried about the ‘psych ward’ part of that, honestly, but he supposed he was in no boat to complain. “I’m eighteen.”

She smiled gently. “Just young enough that you’re still a kid. No worries. Rest for now, okay?”

Lance did. He let himself drift, coming back only when a couple more nurses popped in to check his vitals or make sure he was feeling okay.

The terror mounting earlier has mostly faded, by then. The drugs were slowly making their way out of his system, and that made it a lot easier to think.

Plus, everyone at the ICU was a lot nicer. He could be wrong, though. He may very well have made the whole ER experience up, consumed by his own guilt. Who knew.

Although, a quiet voice in his head whispered, I’m not sure you’re creative enough to come up with ‘Snowy’ as a name for someone who poisoned themself. Are you sure that wasn’t real?

Lance shook his head, dismissing it. There was no point in worrying about that now.

Eventually, the same kindly nurse from before informed him it was time to go to the paediatric unit. He insisted on walking, again, and she didn’t fight him too hard. It was much easier that time around, anyway. It must have been a day or two, because his head was clearing.

He had his own room, in the paediatric unit. A much older woman helped him into it, showing him the bed and the shelves he got, handing him some soap and pointing him in the direction of the showers.

“I’m sure it will feel nice to wash off,” she said. “I’ll leave a fresh gown on your bed, and I’ll come let you know what the plan is when you come back.”

Lance thanked her, and headed to the showers. She was right, it did feel nice to be clean. He hadn’t realized how dirty he was.

When he finally made it back to his room — he had no idea how long he took, he was still shakey and time was still iffy — the same woman was waiting for him.

“You’re eighteen now,” she said after he changed. “So, technically, you can go home now, if you want. There’s nothing keeping you here. But we would suggest you sign a voluntary stay form, and spend at least a week here, to get yourself sorted. We’ll work through some treatment plans, find a way to help you. What do you think?”

Lance swallowed. “Who has to know?”

“Nobody. Your medical records are your own, now that you’re an adult. You can of course call whomever you like —” she gestured to a phone hanging on the wall by the nurse’s station — “and we have visiting hours, but if you would prefer this to be kept private, that’s your prerogative. I would suggest talking to someone though, dear. Would you like to call your mother?”

Lance shook his head vehemently. No, he would not like to call his mother. This would break her heart.

He should probably call someone, though. So no one thinks he’s gone missing.

———

“Hello?”

“Hunk?”

His voice shook, he knew it did.

But he couldn’t help it.

“Lance.” Hunk’s voice sounded wet, relieved, and as shakey as Lance’s. “Oh my God, Lance. Where are you? Are you okay? What happened? You just disappeared!”

Lance bit his lip. There was no easy way to say this.

“I’m at the hospital.”

“Oh my God! Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

“Fuck, I’m coming to get you. Stay where you are, okay? What unit are you in?”

“Paediatric,” Lance said in a small voice. He hesitated.

“Psych ward.”

Their was a pause on the other end. A stillness Lance could feel.

Hunk understood immediately.

“Lance…?” It was his turn to sound small, now. To sound lost.

Hurt.

Lance burst into tears. “I — I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I stopped taking the pills because I hate them and I thought I could handle it myself but I couldn’t and I fucked up and I’m scared, Hunk, I almost —”

“I’m coming,” Hunks said, voice firm and careful. “I’ll be there in less than an hour. Okay? Just wait for me, Lance.”

“Okay.”

———

“What now?” Hunk asked, voice muffled in Lance’s hair. He latched onto Lance the second he saw him, holding him tightly as he trembled and cried.

“I have to stay here for a week,” Lance said quietly, face still tucked into Hunk’s chest. “Uh, voluntarily. Technically I can check myself out whenever, but the doctors say I should stay until I can work out a treatment plan, which usually takes a week.”

“Is that what you want to do? Is that what will keep you safe?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“What then? What after?”

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted. “I never thought… Hunk, I’ve known I was going to die at eighteen for as long as I can remember. I don’t… I don’t know where to go from here.”

Hunk took a shuddering breath, body stilling at Lance’s words. He squeezes Lance’s hands tightly, three times in succession.

“We’ll figure it out, okay? I’ll come every day for all the visiting hours. We’ll make a plan and figure things out. I promise.”

“Okay,” Lance whispered. “Are you leaving?”

Hunk pulled him tighter, hefting him into his lap and wrapping his arms around where Lance is curled up.

“Of course not. I’ll stay until they kick me out.”

Lance smiled.

———

Lance honestly spent most of his time reading random novels and meditating. He understandably didn’t feel too fond of sleeping, and the psychiatrist appointments only lasted so long. He needed something to do.

Mostly, he looked forward to when Hunk came to visit. He had told the Garrison that Lance had a severe allergic reaction to medicine that he didn’t know he was allergic too — the story they’d decided on for people Lance didn’t trust to tell — and since the semester was basically over, they were fine to let Hunk visit.

It was nice. Lance has forgotten how scary the Grey was, how much it stole from him, and he was glad he was safe now.

In the end, the doctors reiterated his previous SAD diagnosis, suggesting gently to him that as much as it sucked, until he could trust himself, it was probably better for him to keep his meds with the guidance counsellor.

As much as he hated it, Lance couldn’t help but agree.

Surprisingly, though, the doctors were also sending him for some further tests in the summer. Apparently he was looking at an ASD diagnosis as well, although it was too early to tell for sure.

It made sense, Lance supposed, when he thought about it.

Regardless, he signed the appropriate release papers at the end of the week, dressing in the clothes Hunk brought him and meeting Hunk in the lobby to head back to the Garrison.

“That was scary,” Hunk said quietly, when they were situated in the back of the Uber. “You scared me, Lance. It’s probably unfair to say, but… I dunno. I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life. I prayed.”

Lance bit his lip, playing nervously with Hunk’s hand where he had it clasped between both of his.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Lance. I’m not mad at you. I just mean that you’re not leaving my sight for a while. Maybe not until summer comes back.”

Lance frowned. “But winter break is just around the corner. You’re going home, aren’t you?”

Hunk shrugged, but his expression was determined and left no room for argument.

“You’re coming with me.”

Lance opened his mouth, but closed it after a minute of silence.

He wouldn’t mind that, actually.

“Okay.”

———

Leaving his meds at the guidance counsellor’s solved one’s problem. It really did. As much as Lance hates it, it’s better for him in the long run.

Unfortunately, it does mean that he does not have his meds with him in space.

Where there’s no sun at all, actually. So that’s not excellent.

Lance is surprised how long he lasts before the Grey set in. Months, at least. It was early summer when they left Earth, though. That must have something to do with it.

The thing about suicide attempts is that often times — not always, Lance thinks, but it must be often — it scares the suicide right out of you. It makes you afraid to die. It reminds you that, holy shit, you actually do appreciate being alive, thanks, and there’s quite a lot you’re willing to do to keep it that way.

The several dozen near-death experiences he’s had since then has only cemented that fact. Lance is very, very happy he’s alive. He likes laughing. He likes spending time with Hunk, with the rest of his team. He likes flying in Blue. He misses his family, and he wants to see them again. He misses Earth, and the sunshine on his skin.

Also, there are trillions of people relying on him. Literal trillions.

He cannot afford to die.

He drags himself to the bathroom, staring himself down in the mirror.

“Please,” he begs his brain. “Please, please get your shit together. I know it’s rough. I know it’s hopeless. But I do not want to die. I tried it, thanks, and it sucks ass. It’s scary. Can you please do your one fucking job and keep me alive?”

“Lance?”

Lance jumps out of his skin at the call, even as he immediately relaxes at the voice.

Strange combo, that.

“In here,” he shouts back.

He listens to Hunk’s solid footsteps, watching through the mirror as he makes his way behind Lance. Brown eyes meet brown in the mirror.

“Grey starting?”

Lance exhales shakily. He takes out a worn piece of paper from his pocket — of fucking course he brought this to space accidentally and not his pills — and reads over it for the millionth time since he wrote it four and a half years ago.

Apathy. Loss of interest. Exhaustion.

Suicidal thoughts.

Well, at least that last one hadn’t hit him too hard yet, although he did nearly slip up and make a joke about it last week. (Lance forbid himself from making an suicide joke ever again the day he got back from the hospital. It makes his headspace worse, and it freaks Hunk out a little. He hates it when he fucks up.)

Hunk’s hand reaches over and tangles with his.

“I think we need to talk to Coran,” he says quietly. “He might be able to help.”

Lance swallows. His first instinct, as it always is, is to dismiss the very idea, insist he can handle himself.

But he can’t.

And that’s okay.

“Yeah,” he says finally, curling his hand around Hunk’s. “I think I could use the help.”

[justawanderer]

Mike Change follows his friends to NYC for university-NYU Pre-Med with a shit ton of dance classes because his parents never said anything about a minor in the arts, only that he was expected to go to med school.

He has a solid support system in his glee friends but doesn’t mind branching out and is kinda excited to not be in Lima and to lean into who he is-he starts wearing the clothes he’s always wanted to wear, ones he bought on a secret shopping spree with Kurt on a summer steal away trip to Colombus their last spring break at home.

He lets Blaine talk him into a helix piercing when Blaine gets an earring and he loves having a family in New York.

A bunch of his dance class mates comment on it when he starts eating lunch with them. He feels a weird twinge in his chest when he notices half the compliments come from his fellow male dancers and realizes he doesn’t mind their attention.

But he also starts hanging out with an international students exchange club and meets Raphael and Ragnor and Catarina. He loves his glee friends but he’s starting to feel seen as his own person. Something that had been impossible in Lima and in HS.

He starts a study group with the beautiful Izzy in his Biology and Chem classes and becomes fast friends with her. He lets her do his make up and finds a thrilling sort of inner peace when he sees himself in eyeliner. She gushes and complains that her big brother would never let her do this.

He meets said big brother-a pre law giant of man (seriously taller than Finn!)- who glares at everything that’s not his sister, but smiles at Mike when he asks about the man’s archery medals. (Who the fuck is on an Olympic team and Doesn’t brag about it?!) Mikes chest twinges again and he tells himself it’s because Alec is the type of guy friend he’s always wanted.

He wakes himself up one Friday morning, sheets a damp mess with hazy memories of his dream but possibly Alec’s name on his lips. He shakes himself out of it and lets a pretty blonde ballerina from class push him into an empty bedroom at the party he attends that night.

He spends the next few weeks with all the various girls he dances with.

He spends an equal amount of Wednesday’s studying with Alec at a coffee shop-But! They both have that time free and they both like coffee and Mike’s never really made his own friends, they always adopt him, not the other way around! So that’s why he’s always so excited to see Alec.

It’s getting harder to lie to himself when the bottle he spins at the next party he’s at lands on a ginger ROTC guy named George. They make out to the cheers of the other partiers and Mike spends the night drunkenly telling himself that kissing is just an enjoyable thing. He spends the next morning soberly googling if a kiss makes you gay.

A couple more weeks, a couple more weekends spent with the dance girls, until Rachel and Kurt throw a NYADA midterms party and he only had a half a beer but let’s Kurt’s friend Imasu blow him in the bathroom. He tries to talk it away like the kiss-it feels good no matter who it is-until he’s on his knees reciprocating and finds he likes it as much as any other part of sex.

He skips that Wednesday with Alec and can’t explain why the “Hope you’re okay” text makes him ache when he ignores it.

He shuts down on himself, only hangs out with his known friends and throws himself into a short lived relationship with the blonde ballerina to try and keep himself “on track” when he walks in on her and their teacher. He wasn’t in love with her, but it does hurt and he definitely doesn’t want to be involved with whatever shit is going to hit the fan when the administration finds out about her.

He spends Halloween half drunk, crying and spilling all of this to Kurt and Blaine. They sit with him, cuddle him, drink with him. And they’re there with him when he finally says out loud that he’s Bisexual. They celebrate at 4 am with pancakes at the local all night diner.

He rejoins study group and explains himself to an icy Izzy who thaws and sends him a blinding smile and wraps him in a big hug.

Ragnor didn’t know that he didn’t know that he was bi but bucks him on the shoulder in solidarity. Cat hugs him and welcomes him back. Raphael tells him he doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t have to see any sappy shit.

On Wednesday he gets to their table early and buys Alec his stupid sweet caramel latte as an apology. He awkwardly stutters out an explanation and even more awkwardly comes out to the then man who is watching him with wide owlish eyes. Alec grins at him when he’s done and quietly comes out to Mike himself and if his whole being light up on the inside, then that’s Mike business alone.

He goes home at Thanksgiving and comes out to his family. He sister hugs him. His mom smiles kindly at him, but his father yells in a tone Mike’s never heard before. It’s ugly, it’s horribly painful and Mikes ready to get up and leave after his father vows to cut him off when his mother stands up for him. He leaves Lima with a hug from his mom and sister but totally disowned by his dad.

His mom’s parents step up to cover his expenses and tell him they don’t care who he loves and long as he’s successful and happy-San Francisco is good for them. He’ll keep his pre-med for now-he likes the idea of providing healthcare to those in need, but declare dance a double major to keep his options totally open.

He goes back to NYU and his friends and they mourn with him and rage with him and are there on his birthday when he moves to change his name in court so he doesn’t have to be tied to a man who hates him. (if his father wanted resort to Latin for insulting him, then he’s going to own that)

At the new year’s party he throws celebrating his new name and identity-he introduces himself as Magnus Bane and is greeted with an eager Alec grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket and kissing him In front of the whole party.

He walks into the new year a new man with an extended family he wouldn’t trade for anything and love he never saw coming.

[happyk44]

Himeros, god of unrequited love, charging into Percy's room and demanding that he take it back. Percy has no idea what he's talking about but fights off this raging cupid-like child, who keeps screaming at him to take back whatever he gave.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" he shouts before whistling through three fingers. Mrs. O'Leary appears out the shadows seconds later with a giant bound and wide doggy grin.

Himeros notches another arrow but it misses as Percy takes off atop the back of his dog. Giant angry red wings spread from the god's back.

Next time I see Carter, I'm taking him up on his offer to hide at the Nome forever, Percy thinks.

It's hard to fight with a sword atop a giant hellhound. Percy's not that great at it atop Blackjack either. In hindsight, he probably should've tried more at archery, instead of phoning it in after his second summer. Still he swats at the god with his sword while steering Mrs. O'Leary to the river.

It doesn't take long to get there. He dodges an angry swing and tackles Himeros down into the murky water below. The god screams, a childish wail. But watery tendrils pull his body flat. Water pressure keeps him pinned down.

Percy touches gray sand and states down at the petulant god child before him. "What the fuck do you want?"

Himeros glares. He's so small, it reminds Percy of Estelle when she's mad she can't have a second serving of ice cream.

"I want you to take it back," he hisses, each word deliberately pushed through his lips.

"Take what back?" Percy gestures erratically. "I haven't given anyone anything. I mean I bought a shitty doughnut at that bodega yesterday, but I already ate that and I'm not robbin' the store for a dollar fifty plus tax."

Himeros sneers. "You gave him your heart. I want you to take it back."

Percy stares, bewildered. "The fuck are you on about right now?" He pinches the bridge of his nose. "I hate you people so fucking much. This is why I don't answer Chiron's calls anymore." Mindlessly he paces back and forth. "Rachel hits me up and I'm like is this prophecy quest shit or friend shit and if the word "well.." comes out of her mouth, I hang up the phone."

"You weren't supposed to give him your heart."

"Give who my heart, asshole?" Percy shouts, spinning back to the god. "I can't read your fucking mind. Use your words, be clear. I know that's beyond so many of you, but I'm really gonna need you to work with me here."

Himeros' lip twitches. Percy wants to smack it. Just a little slap. This situation isn't funny. It's not amusing. It's annoying and bothersome. He doesn't like being driven out of his apartment by crazy gods, hankering on about help he doesn't want to give, babbling words that are vague as shit. Part of him is tempted to call Nico, or Carter - two people well-versed in godly nonsense - to interpret whatever Himeros is grumbling about.

"Oh my shit, is this about Carter? What is it, some pantheon's can't mix bullshit, because I know for a fact Walt and Anubs and Nico hang out every week so piss off on that." He kicks sand. "And my crush on Carter is none of your fucking business, pal."

"It's incredibly my business," the god says and, for a moment, his form slips and Carter is laying in his place, curly black hair and light half grin, smudge marks of pencil lead on his fingers, beautiful brown eyes.

Anger blisters deep inside Percy's chest. He pulls out his sword. It glimmers in the darkness, as threatening as the gesyers boiling below Percy's feet. Himeros visibly recoils. His pink eyes grow wide, lips stretching back nervously. A shark-toothed grin cuts across Percy's face.

"I'm going to ask this one more time." His words steam the waters around them. "What the hell do you want?"

"My mother appeared to you once, in limitless form of what you've found most beautiful throughout your life," Himeros says, done away with all his angry showboating. "My brother Eros appeared to your friends once-"

"So I've been told," Percy seethed. A flash of Nico's skin cut through his mind, the scar above the wolf clawed scratches. It didn't match and he'd been curious. The story was slow, unmade eye contact between them both, and left him hollowed out, slowly made whole again but Nico's cold hand resting atop of his.

"Diocletian's staff is all his business," Himeros mutters, "but Nico's heart was mine and he had no right to intervene."

"Nico's heart is his own," Percy snaps. "And something tells me he's not very interested in hooking up with love gods."

"I've watched him for decades!" Himeros spat back. "I took my claim on his heart, on his life from the moment he was born!"

"Well, you haven't been doing a very good job of it!"

Himeros laughs. Pressure drops until the laugh cuts out into chokes and gasp and godly blood begins to ooze from squishing arms and hands.

"You want to be loved back?" Himeros hisses, "then called Anteros. He'd show you who loves you as much as you love them. He even cried at your father's wedding because it was so true." The tone is mocking and Percy increases the pressure even more until Himeros is choking out, "St-ah-p."

He gasps loudly as it releases off him minutes later, breathing in murky river water and choking on it. This isn't his element and it shows.

"Nico's a sour precious thing," Himeros whispers. "Nobody stayed behind to hold his hand, and those who cared, those who he cared for so purely and who cared for him back, who fell under Anteros's spell still left him - his mother, his sister, even his father sends him away."

"They died," Percy growls. It doesn't sound quite human to his ears, a rumble of a hurricane caught between the chords of his voice. "And his father doesn't send him away, he works for him."

"You left him," Himeros carries on. "You were always supposed to leave him. Every time. Like a sailor off to war, with his pitiful wife behind him waiting on the rocks for a man who will never return." His eyes narrow and turn red. "And instead you gave him your heart."

[basilone]

Gonna do "security" and "risk" forrrr...your newest OC, whoever that might be!

Ahh, this actually made me pause for a few minutes in contemplation of which OC of mine is the newest. 😂 I had an unnamed-but-developed one in my head for a long time who finally recently got his name, but I also have a named one who's still very much in development. And for the sake of this lovely prompt, we're going with the latter! 💚 Let me introduce you to a post-war take on Gene Roe's life wife...

a few of my favorite things

He is already out like a light by the time she comes to bed. His work boots kicked off somewhere between front door and the little table on which they keep the house keys and incoming bills. His belt and shirt both hanging off the lone inherited chair in the hallway, partially obscuring the chintz that always makes her feel like an imposter in their own home.

They ain’t chintz people – she’s told Gene this a hundred times – but she ain’t going to be able to get rid of it until Gene’s Auntie Mamie dies. Never mind the fact that Auntie Mamie had only come to the house once, under what she’d claimed was great duress from Cousine Rachelle. Auntie Mamie still asks about the chintz chair at Thanksgiving every year, so in the hallway it remains.

Claudia thinks she’ll burn the thing someday. Watch it go up in flames while sitting out on the porch, sunglasses on to shield against the glare, sipping from an ice cold glass of sweet tea. Whenever Gene’s family gets like that – disapproving and expectant all at once – she takes another stab at the turkey and peas on her plate and keeps a burning chintz chair locked firmly in her mind’s eye.

Ain’t a thing a man can do to help where he’s from, though. She’s not about to hold that against him – ain’t Gene’s fault he came home from war and got her for a next-door neighbor, either, now is it? Though it’s one of the darndest things that it’s the French side of his family that keeps kicking up a fuss when she’s French through her daddy, too. She’s sure got that big Saint-Cyr name but not a penny to it. Often the name alone still opens people up, all bright and welcoming, but when they see her – too tan to be white, too many dark curls atop her head and dark eyes beneath her fringe – it’s like the door shuts just as hard in her face again.

He took a risk, marrying her. Loving her. He acts like it don’t mean a thing – like loving her is just something he does, just like he fixes things around the house and like she never wants for fresh flowers in spring. But she’s realized a long time ago that they don’t make another man like Gene Roe. The thought hit her while he was fixing her sink, of all the moments, and he’d laughed at something silly she said without thinking. And then it’d just kept on hitting her, including that one time his temper had flared and he’d made five grown men feel real sorry about some of the smartass comments they’d been making.

Saying oui to Gene has been the easiest decision of her life.

She makes sure to put her house slippers just beside the bedside table Gene’d finally made for her two nights ago. Takes her earrings out as she sinks down onto the mattress. Gene’s yet to stir, but if Claudia’s honest she doesn’t expect him to. He’ll only rise later on in the night, when the moon’s all high and silver, stumbling around in the kitchen sometime around three or four. He’s done that since she’s known him, possibly longer still. There ain’t been a night Gene’s slept clean on through – stirring at the oddest noises in winter, wide awake with every thunderclap in summer – and there’s not a thing she can do about that.

Claudia leans over him. Switches the light off. Plants a kiss on his brow, then on his cheek. She lies as close to him as possible without spooking him into a fright, tips of her toes touching his ankle, hand brushing his upper arm. If she’s lucky, and Claudia knows she’s born lucky, he’ll come back to bed after his midnight stroll and pull her into his arms.

The thought’s enough to still give her butterflies after all this time.