#and yeah there’s like. a lot more here I feel. someone else who is not me should go into that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 21 hours

Text

i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one: ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington #possessive steve harrington

80 notes · View notes

cha-melodius · 21 hours

Note

A ship of your choice firstprince, please!

A location—(Although I dare someone to send the White House or Kensington, I WILL make it into an AU. I have ideas.) Also if you want a particular historical setting, you can feel free to include a time period too. GO NUTS, please.

Well sheesh, with that kind of tease, I suggest both the White House and Kensington Palace, circa the year 2068.

I look forward to seeing what you choose to do with this! I am certain to enjoy it, whatever it is ❤️

(This was such an intriguing prompt, and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Also happiest of birthdays to @dumbpeachjuice, who's incredible fic "make me your god" inspired this one.)

The Impossible Soul

(M, 7.2k, read it below or on AO3)

“I shouldn’t let you do this for me,” Henry tells him in the moments before.

“You should know by now that you’re not letting me do anything, sweetheart,” Alex returns. “Anyway, I’m doing this for us.”

“Even though we still won’t be able to be together?”

“I told you, it’s only temporary. Once my mom’s no longer in office, I won’t be in the spotlight. But I can’t leave you trapped here for another four years. I won’t.” Alex cups Henry’s cheek with his hand and brushes a thumb against the corner of his perfect mouth. “Besides, what if I left you here and you forgot about me?”

Henry covers Alex’s hand with his, warm and soft. “Never.”

~~~~~

One Year Earlier

Alex didn’t think he could be surprised by AIDEs at this point, but the ones populating Kensington are really something else.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” Prince Henry says, his blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex can’t help but stare. The eyes are the hardest part, or so Nora says. All the Secret Service agents’ eyes have a kind of strange metallic glint behind them. Often it’s not even noticeable, but if you look too closely, it becomes obvious. Prince Henry’s eyes are flawless, though. Just endless, perfect blue. Really, the only flaw Alex can see in this model is that they made him inhumanly beautiful. No real person has lips like that.

Henry’s hand is warm in his, his grip firm but not too tight. Alex forces himself to let go.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, looking around rather than staying trapped in Henry’s piercing gaze.

Palace servants flit about, attending to all of the gala guests’ needs along with those of the princes and princess. Apparently, it’s a perfect recreation of the palace’s operations from the turn of the century, back before the monarchy was abolished. Now they just keep fake royalty here, like they can’t quite let go of the idea. Alex has never understood it, and visiting hasn’t really helped. Of all the things he’s had to do on this goodwill trip, this is by far the strangest, pretending to hobnob with royalty at a fancy ball like anyone does this shit anymore. Then again, maybe showing off is the whole point, same as it ever was.

It’s not like Alex isn’t used to interacting with AIDEs. The use of Artificially Intelligent Dynamic Entities is still limited more broadly, but they’re common in dangerous or sensitive jobs. The entire Secret Service was replaced by them two administrations ago; their loyalty is never in question, nor their willingness to protect their charges at all costs. Use of AIDEs for entertainment purposes is growing in popularity too, like the Kensington ones. They play the role they’re programmed to without deviation, they don’t need to eat or sleep (though they usually do, to better mimic humanity), they can be abused or even killed without repercussion and, most importantly, they don’t need to be paid.

“I hope your visit to London has been pleasant?” Prince Henry asks with perfectly-tuned amiability. It makes Alex want to push a little, though he knows Nora would tell him it’s a futile exercise.

“Mostly I’ve been spending it in lots of meetings,” Alex says. “Kinda wish I had time to go out and see more of the city.”

“I can understand that,” Henry replies, glancing toward the doors in a way that Alex would call wistful if he didn’t know better.

Can he? Do they let them leave the palace? Probably not. Does Henry want to, though? That would be a weird thing to program into an AIDE that’s supposed to stay in one place.

“I guess you probably don’t get out much, huh?” Alex asks.

Henry smiles indulgently at his bad joke. “Not so much, no. Makes it ever-so-difficult to meet people, you know.”

Alex laughs despite himself. He’s never met an AIDE that was so self-aware. If he tries to joke with Cash about taking a day off, the agent just stares at Alex blankly. “You must talk with a lot of visitors to the palace, though.”

“I do,” Henry allows, taking a sip of his champagne. “Most of them aren’t very interesting, though. All they do is ask what it’s like to be a prince.”

“And? What’s it like?”

Henry smirks a little. “Bloody boring. Not that I can tell them that, you understand.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, a little lost for words. Henry is nothing like what he was expecting. “So, what do you want to talk about, then?”

In response, Henry takes a step closer. He smells like fancy cologne, like linens and fresh grass, and something inside him seems to tug Alex closer. “Can I show you something? Still inside the palace, of course.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to June and Nora, chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize—AIDE or government official, he can’t tell—and the Secret Service agents linger at the periphery of the ballroom. He knows shouldn’t leave the event, but honestly chances are no one would notice he was gone. Plus, his curiosity is through the roof.

Henry takes him to a library. There are barricades set up to keep the visiting public to certain areas, but Henry slips past them and Alex follows him. Watches as Henry walks down the rows with a small, private smile curving his lips, trailing a finger along the spines. He pauses and plucks a book off the shelf—Pride and Prejudice, Alex can just make out—and smooths a hand lovingly over the cover.

“I love to read,” Henry says, almost to himself. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, shining brightly in the low light. “All those worlds… They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. AIDEs don’t read. They don’t dream of other worlds.

“The rest of your… family,” Alex says, diplomatically. “Are they like you? I mean, with the reading.”

Henry laughs quietly and shakes his head. “No. No one’s like me.”

Alex is rapidly coming to that same conclusion.

~~~~~

“There’s nothing special about the Kensington AIDEs,” Nora tells him, sounding more beleaguered than necessary. “We talked to Princess Beatrice for like an hour, it was the same as any other AIDE. Pleasant, but a little vacant. The eyes are a neat trick, though.”

“I’m telling you, Henry is different,” Alex insists. “We talked all night. He’s aware of what he is. He reads and he thinks and he feels. Fuck, Nora, he dreams when he sleeps.”

“AIDEs don’t sleep. Not really.”

“Henry does.”

“Someone just got a little creative with the programming,” Nora says dismissively. “He’s supposed to say those things to make him seem more real. If you went back, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“And what if he did?”

“Alex—”

“What if he did remember me? What if all of it really is real?” Alex presses.

Nora frowns at him. “Then there are some major ethical implications that current AI laws are frankly not prepared to deal with,” she says bluntly. “Look, it’s just not possible. They don’t have feelings, period. He’s just a fancy computer.”

“Fine. Whatever you say,” Alex huffs, mostly because he doesn’t want to have this argument anymore. She’s not going to change his mind, and clearly he’s not going to change hers.

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone. We can’t afford some kind of diplomatic incident because you got a crush on the prince AIDE.”

Alex glares at her. It’s not a crush. “I’ll leave it.”

He absolutely will not.

~~~~~

Cash doesn’t blink—literally—when Alex tells him that he’ll be visiting Kensington Palace again rather than the scheduled afternoon tea with some MP he couldn’t care less about. He sends his apologies with an excuse that he’s not feeling well and heads to the main entrance with the rest of the tourists. He has no idea where Henry might be, but AIDEs don’t take days off, so it stands to reason that he’ll be somewhere acting princely, or whatever he does all day.

Unfortunately, he gets stuck on a tour led by an AIDE with a dirty blonde bob and green eyes who most definitely shows none of Henry’s spark. It’s boring as fuck, and he almost bails more than once, but this place is huge and he’d probably get lost forever before he found Henry. They go past a few rooms Alex recognizes, but there’s no sign of the ‘royal family’ anywhere, and Alex starts to worry. Maybe they only trot them out for big events. Maybe you have to buy a special tour package. Ugh, his mom is going to kill him if he ditches any more events.

“Next, we’ll visit the palace library,” the guide says, and Alex perks up.

This has got to be his chance. Henry had said they were basically allowed free run of the palace so long as they remained in areas where they’d run into visitors during operating hours, and Alex knows there’s nowhere Henry would rather be than the library. Sure enough, he’s reading in a massive armchair by one of the windows, though he gets up when the tour group enters and comes over to talk to them. His face is fixed in a pleasant, bland smile as he looks over the group, until his eyes land on Alex. The flash of recognition is clear, even if he recovers quickly, and Alex’s heart thuds a little harder in his chest.

He lingers toward the back as the rest of the visitors ask Henry about living in the palace and being a prince—exactly as he said they would. He answers graciously, of course, the words so bland and scripted that Alex almost wonders if maybe he hadn’t been drinking too much champagne during the gala. But he hangs back when everyone else files out, and as soon as Henry turns to him, his eyes practically light up.

“You came back,” Henry says, his voice soft with something like wonder.

“Of course I did,” Alex replies. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Henry ducks his head, blond hair falling alluringly over his forehead as his cheeks turn pink. The way their bodies mimic human physiology is astounding sometimes. “I suppose we didn’t. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens? It’s a lovely day.”

“Can we do that?”

“Ironically, you’re allowed so long as you have one of us with you, and I’m allowed so long as I’m with a guest,” Henry explains. “Plus, you’re a foreign dignitary. No one will bother us.”

“Sure you wanna be seen with me? My sister would say I’m the furthest thing from dignified,” Alex says, grinning probably a little too broadly.

Henry’s smile slants mischievous as he steps close enough for Alex to get a noseful of linen and fresh grass again. “Maybe I like that about you.”

~~~~

“Have you ever been outside the palace?” Alex asks on his next visit. Nora had given him a look like she knew exactly what he’s been up to when he’d begged off from an official tour of the British Museum, even though he hasn’t brought up Henry again. The fact that she’d found him down a rabbit hole of academic papers about AIDE psychology probably hadn’t helped anything.

“Not that I remember,” Henry answers. It’s rainy today, so they’re ensconced in some kind of parlor with ornate, uncomfortable furniture. The fact that Henry only knows this life is outrageous. Has he ever truly been comfortable? Does anyone even care? “They gave me a basic knowledge of London as a background. I’m supposed to be fond of the Victoria & Albert Museum, but I’ve never seen it myself.”

“That’s fucked up,” Alex blurts.

Henry shrugs. “It’s just how it is.”

“How does none of this ever seem to bother you?”

“It can’t bother me, Alex. My entire existence has been—and will be—only this, and if I allowed any of it to bother me, I’d go mad.”

This does not, in fact, make Alex feel any better about the situation. “Guess I’ll just have to be angry for the both of us, then.”

“I’d rather you weren’t,” Henry says mildly. “It’s no use being upset about my life. Nothing can be changed.”

“Bad idea to tell me something can’t be changed, sweetheart. I fucking love a challenge,” Alex returns. He’s not joking, but Henry laughs anyway. “I’m serious, Henry. You deserve to get things you want, too.”

“What if I said I wanted you not to worry about it? That I want you to be happy?”

“Because you’re programmed to?” Alex counters, letting more bitterness than he means to slip into his voice.

Henry reaches out and slides a hand over Alex’s fist where it’s curled on his thigh. “Because I like you, Alex.”

~~~~

On the last visit he can manage before he leaves London, Alex brings Henry a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” Henry asks when Alex hands it to him. It’s a cheap smartphone, pay as you go, something that Alex can renew the data and minutes on remotely.

Alex frowns at him. He would have figured Henry would be familiar with the concept of phones, but maybe they purposefully programmed him to not recognize it. “It’s for communication. Audio, text, video—”

“I know what a phone is, Alex,” Henry says wryly, interrupting him before Alex can make a fool of himself. “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“I’d like to keep talking to you after I go home,” Alex tells him, feeling oddly exposed by the question. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

Henry smiles, almost bashfully. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I assume you’re not allowed to have that,” Alex says with a nod at the phone.

“I don’t think anyone would consider it a possibility that we might,” Henry muses, “but I’ll keep it hidden nonetheless.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m going to miss your visits, Alex,” Henry says earnestly. “I’ll miss you.”

AIDEs can’t miss things, Alex’s brain supplies, an oft-repeated truism. He feels vaguely sick, leaving Henry here like this.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks, unable to quite meet Henry’s bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

~~~~~

“How would you get a site-locked AIDE off the premises?” Alex casually asks Nora one late night at the Residence, when they’re deep in the weeds of polls and projections.

The campaign has been rough; rougher than the first one. Or maybe it’s just that Alex is far more involved in the filthy underbelly of it this time around. The experience has definitely made him question his resolve to go into politics. Then again, sometimes it feels like his only option to make a difference in the way he wants to. These days he frequently gets into arguments about the need for more protections for AIDEs, though right now it feels like a losing battle. They’re not supposed to need protections, that’s the point of them, and no one believes him when he suggests that they might have more in common with humans than previously believed.

It’s been months. Months of texting, and phone calls, and occasional video chats. Months of getting to know Henry—the real him, beyond his programmed backstory. For his part, Henry has seemingly blossomed further with access to the internet. Alex was admittedly not certain that was a great idea, but Henry seems to stay off the darker parts. He watches a lot of Bake Off, apparently. He’s obsessed with some cute beagle account on Instagram. He reads travel blogs and insists that just knowing that these wonderful places exist is enough for him.

Alex doesn’t believe him. Well, he believes Henry believes that, but that doesn’t stop Alex from yearning to show Henry some of them in person. Even something in London would be worth it. Hence, the question.

Nora looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s on about. He’s kept his correspondence with Henry a secret from everyone, but he’s pretty sure she suspects something is up. Him broaching this topic all but confirms that, but he needs the help.

“Permanently, or short-term?” she asks.

“Let’s go with short-term to start.”

Another capital-L Look. “Well,” she says eventually, “I would probably hack into the control system and override the barrier protocols. These systems are self-healing, though. You’d have a couple of hours at most.”

“And what happens if the AIDE was off-site when the system kicked back on?” Alex asks.

“Depends on the program. Possibly just an alarm or something. Most of the time it’s full deactivation though.”

“They kill them?”

“AIDEs aren’t alive, Alejandro,” Nora says pointedly. Alex bites his tongue. “But yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, wiping his hands over his face. “And to permanently get him out?”

It’s a slip. He’s not dumb enough to think she missed it, though she doesn’t show it.

“Not entirely sure,” she admits. “I’d need one of the tablets they use to control them so I could go into the AIDE’s code. And good luck with that; the companies that make them have some of the tightest security out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She turns back to her laptop, and Alex half-expects the conversation is done, at least for now. But then, as she’s typing, she says, “I assume this isn’t idle curiosity.”

Alex sighs. “No.”

~~~~~

It takes nine months from their first meeting for Alex to find a reason to visit London. His mother offhandedly mentions sending someone to some conference he doesn’t really care about, and he jumps at the chance. All he can think about is Henry. Being in the same city as him again. Seeing him. Touching him.

Alex has had time to come to terms with his desire for Henry. Honestly, the bisexuality was easy compared to the AIDE aspect of it. Nora is fond of pointing out that they’re literally designed to be desirable, even the ones not populating what basically pass for sexy amusement parks, but Alex doesn’t just want Henry physically. He wants to spend time with him, to make him laugh and see the crinkle of his eyes not through a phone screen.

Frankly, he also wouldn’t mind a little clarity on the whole situation. To either get incontrovertible proof that Henry is fundamentally the same as a person, or else be reminded that he isn’t, that Alex has deluded himself into believing Henry was more than a machine (a possibility that Nora regularly reminds him of).

On the flight over, Alex finds himself watching Cash, not for the first time. He’s doing a sudoku puzzle, which can’t really be much of a challenge for him. Still, he works on them religiously. Did someone program that into him? Or does Cash actually enjoy doing them?

“Do you like your job, Cash?” Alex asks.

Cash looks up at him, setting his ballpoint pen down—he does the puzzles in pen because he never makes a mistake. He’s got an expression on like he doesn’t really understand Alex’s question, even though it should be straightforward. “It’s my job,” he finally says.

“Yeah, but do you like it?” Alex pushes. “Do you find it fulfilling?”

The tip of his head means Cash is analyzing Alex’s body language. After another moment, he says, “Yes.”

Alex can’t quite hold back a sigh. The answer is predictable. Cash is only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to hear it. That’s what AIDEs do, they anticipate your needs and wants.

“Is that not the right answer?” Cash asks, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says.

He knows Cash won’t.

~~~~~

Henry is understandably nervous about the plan. It is, after all, his life on the line.

“The control system will go down at the very end of the visiting day, so we can slip out with the exiting crowds,” Alex tells him. “It’s gonna look like maintenance, which shouldn’t set off any red flags right away. Between that and the roadblocks Nora’s set up, we should have five hours.”

“For what?” Henry asks.

Alex just grins. “It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”

Henry looks even more human in Alex’s Longhorns baseball cap and hoodie. Soft. Dangerously so. It makes Alex want to do reckless things. Instead, he sets his watch for four and a half hours and reminds himself how high the stakes are. He’s arranged everything just so tonight. No surprises.

The escape goes off without a hitch, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief once they’re making their way through the crowded city streets. Out here, the two of them are completely unremarkable, even with Cash trailing a few steps behind them. Henry seems to take it all in stride, though Alex doesn’t miss the quiet looks of awe that steal over his face as he takes in the city. They stop and get falafel at a food truck. Henry asks to pet every dog they come across. He looks indescribably happy in a way that makes Alex’s heart clench in his chest.

At the back entrance to the museum, Alex pays off the night guard—not an AIDE, thank god, they’re nearly impossible to bribe—and they slip inside, leaving Cash by the door. It doesn’t take long for Henry to catch on.

“You brought me to the V&A,” Henry breathes as he looks around.

It had seemed like the obvious choice, after what Henry had told him. “I’ve never actually been here,” Alex admits.

“That’s all right, love,” Henry says, grinning now. “I know my way around.”

Alex has never been so enraptured by someone telling him about art, but it’s impossible not to be taken in by the passion with which Henry speaks about the sculptures. He tells Alex about Tipu’s Tiger, about Giambologna, about Narcissus and Zephyr and Pluto rendered exquisitely in marble. His programming hadn’t bothered to give him anything more than a general interest; all of Henry’s knowledge comes from reading in the palace library—and now on the phone Alex gave him—and he’s apparently done a lot of it. His programming also has nothing to do with the wonder and emotion in his voice, with the tears that glitter in his eyes when he gets overwhelmed by the experience.

Machines don’t cry over art. They just don’t. Art is supposed to be a fundamentally human experience, which is proof enough to Alex that, whatever he was designed as, Henry is just as human as Alex is now.

~~~~~

In the Santa Chiara chapel, Henry finally pauses and turns his awe on Alex.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, closing the space between them until only inches remain. Alex has to tip his head up to meet Henry’s bright gaze, and his heart thuds hard in his chest. “You risked so much to give this moment to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Alex tells him, meaning every word of it. “You deserve the entire world.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes.

Alex doesn’t think; he leans up and presses their lips together, a fleeting thing, over before he can convince himself it was a mistake. Except it was, because now he knows the softness of Henry’s lips against his, and he’ll never be satisfied with anything else. Henry’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, his lips slightly parted, and all at once Alex curses his impulsivity. What if Henry thinks that’s what he wants in return, that he owes Alex part of himself for this, when the last thing Alex wants is to take advantage of his programmed desire to please?

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But Henry presses a hand against his face and pulls him in again, slides their lips together with intention, leaves Alex breathless when he pulls away again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex breathes into the silence afterward. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you, Alex.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”

Henry laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses. “I can assure you, that wasn’t programmed. And neither is this.”

This time, when Henry kisses him, Alex can’t help but smile into it.

~~~~~

They go off-plan. There are two hours left when Alex takes Henry back to his hotel room and presses him back into the bed. Peels away their clothes and kisses across warm skin that feels no different from his own under his lips. Henry gasps and twitches under him as Alex takes him in hand; for an AIDE that was only supposed to staff a museum, whoever designed him really went all out on the anatomy.

“Have you ever done this?” Alex murmurs into the crease of his hip, breathing in the scent of him. Linen and fresh grass and something else, musky and heady.

Henry shakes his head, and relief floods through Alex. It isn’t some virginity kink, ok? He’s just heard stories of how some people treat AIDEs no matter what their jobs are, like they’re free for the taking because they never say no, and he’s glad Henry’s never been in that situation.

“And you’re sure you want to with me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Henry nearly growls. He drags Alex up from between his legs and kisses him hard, then rolls them over so he’s on top, straddling Alex’s waist. Slides back until Alex’s cock is pressing into the cleft of his ass and rocks his hips in a way that makes them both moan. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Alex is pretty sure he sees God when Henry lowers himself onto his cock, sitting upright with one hand behind him gripping Alex’s thigh and the other splayed over Alex’s chest. Or maybe it’s just that Henry looks like a god, like one of the mythical marble sculptures in the V&A, muscles rippling beneath his skin, but warm and yielding and vibrant and alive.

You’re unreal, Alex almost says, but that’s not quite it. Henry like this is very, very real. Impossible might be a better word.

Henry is impossible, and Alex is impossibly in love with him.

~~~~~

“Do you think you could steal one of the tablets they use to access your code?” Alex asks as they lie together in the darkness. His ear is pressed to Henry’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his circulatory pump—not quite a heart, but not not one either.

Henry’s hand cards through his hair, idly twirling Alex’s curls around his fingers. “What are you planning, love?”

Alex tips his face up to look at him. “Can you?”

“I doubt I can,” Henry answers after a pause, “but the technician responsible for us… he may be willing to help.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s protected me before. I think he knows about my… differences.”

Alex hums. “How do we contact him?”

~~~~~

What Shaan Srivastava is not willing to do is speak over any sort of electronic form of communication, which Alex honestly takes as a good sign. They meet in a cafe on the other side of London, the day before Alex is set to leave.

“I want to get him out,” Alex tells him plainly. “For good.”

“Mountchristen Technologies puts numerous failsafes into the AIDEs they build,” Shaan tells him. “Trackers. Latent viruses. Kill switches.”

“Can they be disabled?”

Shaan takes a sip of his tea. “I have an idea, but I have no way of implementing it. I’m just responsible for keeping them in good working order. I’m not a coder.”

The hope that flares up in Alex’s chest is dangerous but oh-so-seductive. “I think I know someone who could help with that.”

~~~~~

“This is insane,” Nora tells him. “You honestly think it’s a good idea to pull off some kind of heist from the world’s biggest tech company a month before the election?”

“No,” Alex says reasonably. “That’s why we’re waiting until after. I convinced mom to let me take a trip to London between New Years and the inauguration.”

Nora shakes her head, every movement like a knife in Alex’s gut. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I never should have helped you on that little excursion in the first place, but this is a whole ‘nother level. We could both go to jail for who knows how long. And for what? Because you fucked an AIDE and now you want him for yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Alex nearly shouts. “I love him, asshole! I can’t let him stay a— a slave in that fucking palace.”

“He’s a machine! That’s what he was designed for, Alex!”

“Maybe he was, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he is now,” Alex insists. He holds out the tablet that she has yet to take from him. “Just look at his code. Even I can tell it isn’t like anything else out there.”

Finally, she snatches the tablet from him and jabs at it a few times. Her frown gets deeper. “There’s something wrong with this tablet,” she says eventually. “It’s not displaying things properly.”

“It is.”

“It can’t be, this level of complexity is impossible—”

“He’s writing his own fucking code, Nora,” Alex interrupts. Shaan had explained his theory on Henry’s code as best he was able before Alex left London. “With every one of the choices he was never supposed to be able to make. That’s why it looks like that.”

Heavy silence stretches between them as Nora stares at the tablet, occasionally swiping around and tapping. She chews on her lip. “It shouldn’t be possible,” she mutters, half to herself.

“But it is. He is. Please, Nora,” Alex pleads, not caring how desperate he sounds. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

~~~~~

“You need to understand that the changes to his code means that accessing the safeguards is much more difficult.”

“Ok.”

“And I can’t guarantee that this will work. We can’t test it out. Once we shut him down, there’s no way to know exactly what will happen when we boot him back up again. He might come back the same as he is now, but he also might undergo some kind of reset. Even if he retains his free will, he might not remember his life before. He might not remember you.”

Alex swallows hard. “I understand.”

“Does he?”

~~~~~

It takes Alex a month to work up the nerve to broach the topic with Henry. On video call not long after the election, he explains Nora’s plan, how they need to do a full shutdown so she can extract the safeguards like a surgeon. He makes himself explain the risks even though his first impulse is to downplay them. Henry deserves to know, deserves to make the decision for himself. Alex would be a huge fucking hypocrite to take that away from him.

That doesn’t mean he’s required to like Henry’s reaction, though.

“It’s too much risk,” Henry says, a stubborn look on his face that Alex is very familiar with by now. “Things are fine now.”

“They’re really not,” Alex argues. “You’re no better than a prisoner there, Henry. Your freedom is worth the risk.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Alex snaps, rapidly becoming frustrated by this argument.

“Not when it could mean losing you!” Henry bites out. He presses his lips together and looks away from the camera, but Alex can see the tears shining in his eyes. “My memories of you—of the museum, of us,” he says eventually, his voice unsteady, “are the only things I have that are truly mine. And you tell me I could lose them… I can’t do it. I’d rather stay here forever.”

“Don’t you understand?” Alex pleads. He wants to reach through the screen and grab him, turn his face and make Henry look at him. “I’m trying to give you the world, baby.”

“I don’t want the world,” Henry says miserably. “Please, Alex. It’s better this way. You may think this is worth it now, but one day you’ll change your mind when you realize that having a secret AIDE lover isn’t exactly compatible with a political career. You’ll want to be with a real person. Someone whose affection you can be certain isn’t just programming. Just… leave me here with my memories.”

Then Henry hangs up on him.

~~~~~

Henry doesn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts, and Alex couldn’t be more miserable. He doesn’t eat and sleeps only fitfully, which confuses his family. Everyone’s still riding a high from winning the election. They think Alex is seriously ill and try to bring in a doctor, but nothing’s physically wrong with him. He can’t tell them he’s suffering from a broken heart like some pining Victorian maiden.

On the fifth day, Nora comes storming into his bedroom in the White House and throws a duffle bag at his chest.

“Pack your shit, we’re going to London,” she says bluntly. “Also take a shower. You reek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Henry.” She waves the tablet in the air, which is still linked to Henry’s code in real time. “Someone’s trying to make changes to his code.”

Alex flops back down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. “It’s probably just him deciding he’s done with me.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” she huffs, now rummaging through his dresser. “It’s not him. Looks like someone else is poking around, and that can’t be a good thing.”

That’s enough to make him rocket straight out of bed, an icy spike of dread shooting down his spine. “Have you gotten in contact with Shaan?”

Nora shakes her head. “No. He’s radio silent.”

“Fuck.”

“I booked us tickets with your credit card on a flight that leaves in two hours, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Nora, is he—” Alex starts before his voice clips off as his throat closes. He forces out, “Can you tell… is he ok?”

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes. “For now.”

~~~~~

The good thing about Kensington being a museum is that no one can stop him from just buying a ticket and going in. He’s been here enough times to know his way to the library, at least, which is where he goes first, barely aware that Nora’s following hot on his heels. All he can think about is Henry.

Henry’s not in the library, though, nor in any of the surrounding rooms. Alex stops a palace attendant and asks for directions to Prince Henry’s apartments, which she helpfully provides. It’s a part of the palace that’s not on any tours, but that doesn’t seem to matter. A palace attendant’s directive to be helpful to humans is off the charts, even for an AIDE.

Somehow he’s not expecting Shaan to answer the door when he knocks. Alex immediately shoulders his way into the room, anger and fear an unholy cocktail in his veins.

“Where is he? What going on here?” he demands, frantically looking around. “Henry, baby, where are you?”

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz—”

“Henry!” There’s no answer, and Alex rounds on Shaan again. “Are you doing this to him?”

Shaan sighs, and it forces Alex to look closer, to take in the bags under his eyes and the grim set to his face. “I told you, I’m not a coder, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. I have, however, been doing my best to slow their progress.”

“What’s happening?” Alex demands.

“Someone higher in the company noticed Henry’s unusual code. I’m not sure how. A standard review of the AIDEs in the palace, I suppose. Or your trip out of Kensington was less secret than you hoped.”

Fuck. None of that is good. Alex scrubs a hand over his face, forces himself to take steady breaths and not descend into a panic attack. “Ok, ok. Is he all right?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s head whips around so fast he nearly strains his neck. Henry’s standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual slacks and button-down with a blue v-neck sweater over it. He looks… normal, and Alex nearly sobs in relief.

“Baby,” he breathes, practically throwing himself across the room and into Henry’s arms. He buries his face in Henry’s neck and breathes deeply, and the barbed wire wrapped tightly around his heart loosens a little.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asks, his strong arms wrapping automatically around Alex’s body.

Alex yanks his head back and looks askance at Shaan. “Does he not know?” He stares up at Henry. “Your code is under attack.”

“Ah, yes,” Henry says carefully. “It’s not the first time.”

“This has happened to you before?” Nora asks, and Henry looks at her in shock, like he hadn’t realized she was in the room.

“You must be Nora,” he surmises. “Yes, it has. I might have thought you’d have noticed the effects in my code.”

A look of understanding dawns over Nora’s face, and she nods. “They’re like scars. Fuck. How many times?”

“It’s not important,” Henry says in a way that suggests he’s been doing this for a long time. “The main point is that I can handle them.”

“Fuck that,” Alex spits out. “I’m not letting them scar you anymore.”

Henry closes his eyes and sighs wearily as he extracts himself from Alex’s grip. “Alex, love, you shouldn’t be here—”

“No, you listen, asshole,” Alex snaps, his terror giving way to fury. “You can’t fucking hang up on me this time.”

“I told you my decision, Alex—”

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Fine,” Henry says shortly, his own temper flaring. “You know as well as I that we can’t be together as long as your mother’s in office and the public’s eyes are on you. So if you still want me in four years, come back and we’ll talk then. You know where I’ll be.”

He says it with a humorless slant to his lips that’s probably supposed to pass as a wry grin, like it’s a joke. Alex wants to fucking scream.

“And let them keep on trying to chip away at what makes you you? Take the chance that they’ll just get rid of you?” he retorts instead. “Fat fucking chance! I’m not leaving the man I love in captivity for four fucking years!”

It takes Henry’s eyes going wide and his mouth falling open for Alex to realize what he’s said. “Alex, you can’t—”

“What, love you? Because I do,” Alex says defiantly. “And I think you love me too.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you AIDEs can’t love?” Henry says, his voice wavering as he stares at the floor.

Alex steps close, forcing Henry to look up at him, until their noses are almost brushing. “Yeah, well, I know better,” he says, low and heated. “I also know I’m not gonna want anyone else, ‘real person’ or not. You’re a real person to me, Henry, and that’s what matters.” He raises a hand to Henry’s cheek and swipes his thumb through the tear track streaking it. “You’re it for me, sweetheart. I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you, and no one can take that away. Plus,” he adds, for the first time letting a corner of his mouth tug upward, “you know how annoyingly persistent I am. If you forget me, I’ll just make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Henry lets out a wet laugh and covers Alex’s hand with his. “It won’t take long.”

~~~~~

Seeing Henry shut down is wrong. He doesn’t even look dead, he just looks… not there. There’s no light in his eyes. Alex hates it. Can’t make himself watch as Nora works furiously.

It takes longer than he expected, but eventually she takes a deep breath and mutters, “Here goes nothing,” then taps a big green button on the tablet.

Henry’s eyelashes flutter as he wakes up. He looks around the room, eyes landing in turn on Shaan, Nora, and Alex. He holds Alex’s gaze and Alex stares back as if he could make Henry remember him through sheer force of will.

“Hello,” Henry says pleasantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

~~~~~

Five Years Later

Alex stands at the end of the long driveway that leads to a small bungalow by the sea on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. He’s got a bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, which feels silly now. Maybe this was a mistake.

He’s kept tabs on Henry and his life after leaving Kensington. From what he can tell, Henry seems happy. He visits the markets and restaurants, knows the locals, and spends lots of time writing. He’s never taken a lover, but Alex doesn’t let himself believe that’s because of him.

It seemed easier, if they were going to have to be apart, to not fill Henry in on their history at first. At least one of them could weather the years without heartache. Alex threw himself into law school, letting nothing distract him. Graduated at the top of his class, got the job of his dreams working for a firm specializing in civil rights litigation, one of the few considering cases related to AIDE protections. He lives a pretty quiet life. No one really cares about what the former FSOTUS is up to these days. And now he’s here, half a decade later, with little more than hope.

Hope, and a wilting bouquet of flowers.

In his darker moments, he’s wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder to Henry to leave him be. Let him live his life. After all, Alex will get old and die, and Henry… won’t. No one really knows how AIDEs might break down over time—their organic-based bodies must, eventually—but their lifespans will surely be much longer than a human’s. In that context, coming back and hoping Henry will fall in love with him again seems nothing but selfish.

Still, he made a promise, and he owes it to Henry to tell him, if nothing else. Maybe Henry will decide that he’s happy as he is, that he doesn’t want the eventual heartache. He owes it to Henry to let him choose.

The gravel of Henry’s driveway crunches loudly under his shoes as he walks toward the bungalow, announcing his arrival as well as any doorbell. When he gets closer, he catches sight of Henry sitting on the porch that faces the beach, a notebook on his lap and a drink on the table next to him. They’d dyed his hair brown after fleeing Kensington, and brown it has remained. He’s still as pale as ever, though; AIDEs don’t tan or get sunburned.

He doesn’t turn at the sound of Alex’s approach, just stares fixedly out at the ocean until Alex stops at the bottom of the two steps that lead up to the porch. Alex’s heart is in his throat when Henry finally gets up and walks to the top of the steps. The smile on his face is warm, fond. Nothing like what he’d left Alex with when they’d parted.

It shouldn’t be possible… but then again, Henry is the very embodiment of the impossible.

He holds out his hand, and Alex climbs up to take it, letting Henry pull him in.

“Hello, love,” Henry says, raising a warm hand to his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

35 notes · View notes

ccrites · 2 days

Text

Signal Lost

I've had something happen to me that's so incredible and that I could have never hoped, something so touching and so unbelievable that it made me rethink a whole lot of stuff: a wonderful reader on Ao3 started reading my long-form fic (101k words!!!) and commented basically every chapter after a certain point. And wow, I would have never thought something like this might happen.

And yeah, it is my first fic with plot in it, yeah I will never believe it to be perfect, but it's good enough. And receiving all those emails from Ao3 really was the highlight of my days over the course of which I saw said reader slowly go through all my favorite parts!

And so I wish to give it some spotlight here, while I'm finishing up my school year and work and whatever! I will post this here for now, but I will drop chapters every few days and make a Masterlist for it this weekend. I have too many loose ideas in my head so this is just to pass the time till the brain worms wiggle all in the same direction

So without further ado:

Link to AO3 here : Signal Lost - a John Price x reader fic

----- here's a blurb to pique your interest!

“I don’t think I’ve ever received a document as classified as this one. What am I supposed to do with it, Kate?” he says, dragging his thumb across the pile of papers, each file filled with more ink than the last.

“You asked for proof, there’s your proof,” Laswell says.

“You said you’ll bring someone competent, and who can help us, this doesn’t tell me shit.” He stares blankly at the screen, tired. She stares back.

“The Captain specifically asked to keep this under wraps.”

He rubs at his face, scratching at his beard. It’s getting long again.

“Who is he, anyway?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

He groans again, picking up the file on top. No photo, no name, no age, no height, weight, no nothing . And he thought Simon was secretive.

“What can you tell me?”

“It’s the closest we’ve ever gotten to him. Did things a particular way.”

He shifts through the papers. “And the discharge?”

“Left after the entire team got wiped out. Messy stuff.”

“That why he doesn’t show his face?” He bends forward, grabbing the cigar from the ashtray and bringing it to his lips.

“John.” Her voice carries a heavy warning.

“Just sayin’,” he says, biting around the cigar with one side of the mouth. “What kinda captain doesn’t go down with his men?”

“Got enough guilt as is. You’re lucky I convinced them.”

They both remain silent. They know the missions would be a slippery slope. One wrong move and a war is started. He puffs a cloud of smoke.

“Anything else?” John asks.

Kate looks to the side, her face illuminated by another screen. He can see her hesitate, her lips are pursed in a thin line as if she’s debating her options.

“You’ve worked together before.”

His face lights up. “Finally! Who?”

Her face immediately hardens back up. “Can’t tell, John, my hands are tied.” She sighs. “You were still a Lieutenant.”

Years ago then. He mentally catalogs everyone he’s ever worked with, but he knows that at that age, he was throwing himself at every available mission, wanting to make a name for himself. “So an old fart then? How’s that gonna help us?” If the guy was a Captain when he was still a Lieutenant, and he felt himself grow old, he can’t imagine who Laswell is bringing back from the dead.

Laswell’s face distorts, he knows he’s pushing her buttons, but he has to know.

“Not older than you John.”

His eyebrows raise. “Oh?”

---

returning to the military to hunt Makarov is hard enough, to do it with your past lover is even harder. a "friends to lovers to enemies to friends and back to lovers" story

---

Tags and other CW: will be posted for each chapter containing warnings for more hardcore stuff (i.e., torture and angst namely), but this is a fanfic, with smut, so if you want all the tags feel free to check the ao3 link bc there are a LOT and I am lazy to retype them all here

24 notes · View notes

davilasinfiltro · 16 hours

Text

Badboyhalo gets advice from Reddit

Bad panics after Skeppy releases Best Friend and decides to ask for relationship advice on Reddit because he doesn’t know who else to turn to

979 words

r/relationship_advice u/throwaway132166922

My (M29) best friend (M23) made a song about me and I don’t know how to feel about it.

I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I’m so paranoid about anyone finding out who I am but I frequent this subreddit a lot and can't find anyone who is in the same situation as me. I also don’t know who I can even talk to about this since we have a lot of mutual friends. If this gets too much traction I’m deleting it quickly, here goes nothing >_<

Here’s the context, me and my friend have known each other online for a while and have been friends for around 4 years (my friends poke fun that we have our ‘anniversary’ memorized but I digress.) We’ve half heartedly been making plans to meetup for the past few years. What can I say? I don’t like leaving the house and never really had the urge to meet any of my online friends. I’d argue that you could have a meaningful relationship with someone and never meet them irl. Anyways, I never took these conversations too seriously. I would always say I’m not ready yet, it’s too close to the holidays, who’s going to take care of my dog? The one time we did have concrete plans I was sick with covid and I had a long recovery. And we just never followed up with a reschedule.

I never knew how much this affected my friend until he wrote this sort of… rap and produced it with one of our mutual friends. He insults me, saying I have a massive ego, I’m a psycho, it’s my fault I made him ‘feel blue,’ and immediately backtracks and compliments me. There’s another lyric that says I’m pushing him away and if I’m hiding something? This part I have to quote verbatim because it’s the part I understand the least,

“I can’t really say my true intentions

It’s all just miscommunication

Please don’t take it the wrong way

I love you dude and I hope we’re okay”

And that’s how it ends. Meanwhile, I had no clue my friend was having this type of conflicting feelings about me. Or how much us meeting up meant to him. Yeah maybe we’d go from talking every day to messaging each other only semi frequently but that’s just the evolution of a friendship right? We were both getting busier as our respective careers became more time-consuming but that’s nobody’s fault, is it? I know I should apologize to him for never taking his requests for us to meetup too seriously but I think there’s something else under the surface.

Does he want to confess to me? I keep going back to that lyric, “I can’t really say my true intentions.” He’s pretty much ripped his heart out on this song but there’s /one/ thing he can’t say to me? Does it have to do with him wanting to preserve our friendship, that it’ll be strained in some way if he confesses? I don’t know what gives him that impression, a lot of our friends are lgbt+. Heck, a lot of them make jokes that we like each other already. Anyways, there shouldn’t be anything deterring him from confessing if that’s what he is trying to do. Or not trying to do.

Any advice is appreciated. I still haven’t said anything to him directly since he made that song.

u/amycat1203

Whatever you two have going on is gayer than any gay person I know irl

-> Reply u/throwaway132166922

If I had a nickel for every time I heard that -_-

u/justadudelmao

This is too outrageous to be fake, so I’m trying to take this seriously. It sounds like y’all have some shit to talk out in person. If the next message you send him isn’t a confirmation for a plane ticket you’re the problem

-> Reply u/throwaway132166922

If I travel to him it won’t be by plane, I have a phobia. But you’re right :/ I need to make it up to him soon if this is how he feels about us not meeting up

u/matchmakingismypassion

Maybe he has reason to believe you wouldn’t want him to confess to you. How do you react to the jokes your friends make about you together? Do you even reciprocate any possible romantic feelings to him?

->Reply u/throwaway132166922

It’s complicated, early on in our friendship he’d flirt with me as a troll and I’d always politely turn him down. I’ve known about him for so long, even before he was 18. I wasn’t comfortable indulging in this kind of joke. So even if he was 19 when he made these comments, he felt too young for me. He grew out of it and eventually we were inseparable as best friends, to the point that our mutual friends would tease us. Both of us would casually deny anything to our friends but honestly, I wouldn’t mind dating him if he made the first move. But you understand why I can’t make the first move, right?

->Reply u/matchmakingismypassion

To me it sounds like he shouldn’t make the first move either if all he’s ever heard from you is rejection. Especially if you can’t even make the effort to meetup, something he obviously wants from you. He made the song as a plea to start an open dialogue, and that starts with you bud.

u/skephalofan141414

EVERYONE. THIS STORY IS FAKE. This is some guy pretending to be Badboyhalo about the song Skeppy made called “Best Friend” on youtube. You’re a weirdo trying to karma farm off of a story that isn’t yours to tell

->Reply u/thisteaishotaf

Who??? Link please???

->Reply u/skephalofan141414

https://youtu.be/skDch34PtEM?si=Usxbm6LXisq9xWCD

->Reply u/thisteaishotaf

Why the fuck would his friend post this on a minecraft channel LMAO

#skephalo #skephalo fic #I wrote this a while ago I’m surprised it took me this long to post lol #badboyhalo #skeppy

28 notes · View notes

ortustheninth · 2 years

Text

Something something how John refers to those that would become necromancers’ as ‘his’ and by name but those that would become cavaliers are called things like ‘M-‘s nun’ and ‘C-‘s artist’. Trickle down economics for messed-up power dynamics’ or something

#tlt #the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #tlt spoilers #john gaius #and yeah there’s like. a lot more here I feel. someone else who is not me should go into that #ntn #og lyctors #How even his loved ones’ relationships with their loved ones become victim to John viewing love as possessing and consuming.

458 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 6 days

Text

Having of those moments where I wish to yeet the like button into the sun or maybe make it so there was setting you could turn on so that people can only reblog posts (even better with the minimum requirement of adding at least one tag)!!

It's kind of absurd that one of my fics is getting close to 500 notes while simultaneously being one I've had the least actual human interactions come from. Like...... come on, that's now how it should be AT ALL!

Don't get me wrong, I'm so thrilled people are clearly finding it and I guess enjoying it(??) but just having endless likes without people letting me know what they enjoyed about it or even if they liked it kind of makes me sad. That's not why I want to share my writing here!

I love having those little human connections with others. I don't ever want my writing to feel transactional. I would love to talk to more people about things I've written. It's truly one of the best feelings and I would hate to lose that, the more I write or the more notes my fics get. Please don't be shy!! I get the social anxiety, but there is no reason to be. I am truly just a Din Djarin obsessed loser.

Anyway, whine over. I don't want to focus on the negatives here and I appreciate every single person who has ever left a positive interaction with something I've written. You are truly a light!

#i don't JUST like posts too often #really the only posts i dont reblog but like are to save for later or if it's too personal/explicit #or i guess i have nothing to add and OP has said it all yknow #but if i see some writing or art i love then hell yeah i always force myself to add at least one tag i like just so the artist/author sees #otherwise it feels like a hollow transaction and i really want people to know i appreciate their art more than just pressing a button yknow #and I KNOW it's intimidating at first to interact with others!! TRUST ME i get it and i'm still awful at it #but just one little comment can make someone feel so good about their writing... why wouldn't someone want to try that at least #especially if you enjoyed it!!! even a key smash or a string of emojis!!!#and the death of the tumblr tag is SO SAD because where else am i meant to talk to you lot?#i mean these tags are longer than my actual post and that's the beauty of tumblr #you don't have to perceive me down here but you can if you wish and i love you for that!#and it's a nice way to organise your blog to make it navigable for others #ANYWAY said i was done whining and continued whining down here so there's that LOL but i always want to interact with more people #please do not be afraid of reaching out to me! scroll through my blog for 5 seconds and you'll see what a nerdy loser i am #akdjgds i mean aren't we all here #spud rants #writing #but thanks again to anyone who leaves nice comments im giving you a (consensual) forehead smooch MWAH

15 notes · View notes

sucrose-soymilk · 7 months

Text

hadn’t really regressed in a While and i didn’t realize how much i missed/dareisay needed it until i had the free time and ability to do so over the last few days and i have to say. i’m feeling a bit better

#imagine that! the coping mechanism… helps!!! wow #Seven’s Small Thoughts #not tagging this as anything else bc this blog is really just a not-so-secret public diary #and im not really trying to gain any sort of following or participate in the community very much #i just wanna talk to the void abt regression every once in a blue moon y’know #i also feel like i don’t really belong in the community much/am not a Good Example of sfw agere since i’m very n/ s/ f/ w everywhere else #which is a double standard that i don’t hold others to but i feel like others will hold it against me??? and i’m just shy anyways #and not looking to interact. just wanna keep all this stuff tucked away in a side-blog #i also feel like a lot of the community likes to blog while actively regressed and i don’t wanna step in there as someone who isn’t #nothing wrong with it! at all! i just don’t have the capacity to since i go nonverbal when i regress. no thoughts head blissfully empty #anyways this wasn’t supposed to be a vent post let’s change the topic!#anywhooo what else did i come on here to say. oh yeah #i lowkey forgot how much regressing has helped me in the past until i was able to really indulge myself in it again recently #it’s so nice to just be small and hand someone else the reins and forget abt everything other than doing something you enjoy #maybe one day i’ll be at a point in my life where i can fully regress more freely and more often but for now i’ll take what i can get #i’m also excited because i’ve been thinking abt ordering a paci from this one specific seller #and yesterday saw that they’re dropping a new batch of fall/halloween themed ones today!!!#so now i’ve gotta make myself stay awake until 6pm so i can jump on it when they’re available #which is a small struggle considering my nocturnal sleep schedule but i will do it nonetheless #that crescent moon patterned one Will Be Mine #trying to decide between buttercup yellow and schoolbus yellow for the clip #i think i’m more drawn to the vibrancy of the schoolbus yellow honestly #eeeeeee i’m excited i’ve been wanting to treat myself to ordering from this shop for a g e s and im finally gonna do it

9 notes · View notes

florenceisfalling · 1 year

Text

like idk. i miss seeing content from s.igne (though i respect gab wholeheartedly). i miss fanart from my favorite artists. i miss older eras of j.se at times (and yes, there were older eras, the way people pretended he Never Changed is just weird). i miss old anti designs. i miss the old fic trends. i miss having a very active fandom (though i am so happy to see the new arrivals) and i miss seeing him interact with fans the way he did on tumblr back in the day. i miss the way i used to interact with some of the blogs here before i decided to fuckin,,, wage holy war and make enemies out of them (joking, but i have seen sides to some of these people that i wish i could tear out of my memory). i miss feeling confident that i could trust the good intentions of people here and even the big man himself (not god. that makes sean sound like god. you know what i mean). i miss when some of you weren't so fucking bitter which is funny because i'm the bitterest bitch alive. idk. i don't think it's bad to miss any of these things because i'm not going to be an ass and act like it's anybody's fault. i'm not going to be bothered by gab for being happy because i'm glad she is happy, and i'm not going to get bothered by sean taking a reasonable step back from this hellsite when people were cruel to him, and i'm not going to get mad at trends for changing because that is how time works. but i do miss things and i know its cringe and parasocial and perhaps even problematic but i hate having to pretend like i never have Any feelings about the past lest i break a hypothetical rule of what is the Normal level of attachment to an online community. okay. i think i'm done now.

#one of my favorite writers left because they couldn't deal anymore and one of my favorite writers turned out to have shit views and one of #my favorite writers left because of something that was partly my fault and one of my favorite writers stopped writing because of two of the #others and one of my favorite writers hurt someone i love over and over and over and one of my favorite writers left because they were the #someone i love. two of the big names hate queer folk that don't align with their ideals and half the artists left for twitter or for dead.#the man himself left because criticism always becomes cruelty and people lie to make themselves feel good.#the editors all turned their accounts private and my favorite told me on livestream that i was good and starting somewhere but then forgot #my name. and i thought maybe i was the bitter one but then i look at some of the other people who have been here so long and wonder why #they even bother anymore because they care more about complaining with everything j.ack does than anyone who actually enjoys his stuff.#and you know i poked fun at *** for a lot of things. some deserved some not. and one of them was the fact that she compared fandom #to warfare. and yes that's still silly i don't think it's a fair comparison but i do know that she wasn't fully wrong.#when you've been here for a long time and ive Been here for a long time you start to get really used to names and faces #and the change can be like waking up to a new wallpaper in your room. not a bad one just a new one.#i don't want to pretend that this fandom is just a silly little hobby for me when lets be honest i know some of yalls personal lives a #little too dearly for that. ive loved people here ive lost people here the first person who showed me this place fucking DIED and i still #lose it sometimes over the fact that he would have loved jameson so much and we couldve been closer friends had he stayed alive a few more #years. so yeah. sorry for being fucking cringy or whatever but there have been times where i've felt like im on a sinking ship watching #everybody else row away and i refuse to go. so like. cool. cool. im glad things are good again but i never really got to process the bad #things.

8 notes · View notes

hecksupremechips · 20 days

Text

Rebecca gales has bpd she told me herself

#rebecca gales #the letter #the letter visual novel #listen im new here im not exactly a knowledgeable cookie here about bpd but the more i learn the more im like. inch resting #cuz for starters its like idk if it all applies to me but i find a lot of it very relatable #but when i think about rebecca i think it definitely applies and makes a lot of sense just like the way she feels emotions #shes got so much complex feelings about the people she loves shes very caring and loving #to the point where they feel its too much to handle alsjks like i love how cute she is with isabella when shes worried #she squishes belles face to check for injuries and she pulls isabella into her lap and pets her hair and sings for her #and always gets her food and worries herself into the ground to make sure isabella takes care of herself #and then with ashton hes definitely her favorite person she sees him like a prince charming and remembers everything about their #relationship like her way of showing love is definitely by remembering things and paying attention to how people feel and what they want #and then zach even though they arent as close she still helped him with his movie and she defends him when his movie gets hate #like in such an angry way he tries to brush it off but shes like NO NOBODY GETS TO TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT #and same when luke is shitty to him and tries to steal his camera rebecca lets that guy have it #and with luke even though she does hate him shes the only character who makes him see the good in himself #and she lets him know that hes fully capable of changing and being a good father and person #shes just so loving but at the same time so easily has a split where she cant stand anyone either #she thinks isabella is obnoxiously immature and is jealous as fuck of her and she is very quick to fight with ash #because he just doesnt show his love for her like she does for him and thats just such a problem like #that feeling that youll always love someone way more than anyone will ever love you and it makes her really upset #and like sometimes her feelings just get bitter so quick and at inappropriate times like when shes mad at isabella while shes fucking #in a literal coma because ashton is in love with her and not rebecca and shes just so like wrapped up in her own feelings there that she #completely disregards the entire situation and ashtons grief because she cant think about anything else she just cant help it #so yeah i think its just the way she feels emotions very strongly and switches between them very quickly that makes me think hm maybe #something is going on here 🤨 and i just love it i love her i love how shes just a character whos just like #got all these complicated feelings but shes still loved and gets to slay penis and simply exist as a complex person

0 notes

snekdood · 5 months

Text

i just feel like if you cant debate someone w/o insulting them then you're kinda just using it as an outlet for all of your asshole-ness

#you shouldnt have assholeness inside you anyways but. if you do you probably grew up thinking its just like. socially normal #instead of idk. trying to get along?? theres no reason you gotta insult ppl esp for things they cant change #it also makes you look lazy in the way u argue #yes yes ik i call ppl dipshits a lot but to me its more of a 'im worried about u/ur wellbeing/ppl around u for u not knowing better'#rather than a:#'hah u idiot loser ur so dumb and im so so much smarter and cooler and faster than you heh' kinda thing that some ppl do 😒😒😒#ig that can be a bit patronizing but id prefer that over someone whos just an immature full-of-themselves asshole tbh #not tryna say its ok bc ppl dont necessarily know i mean it in that way when i say it but yeah. i dont think im the worst about this ill sa #that much and thats not the reason im posting about it. a looooooot of yall on here are waaaaaaaaay worse about it lmao.#i think we should all try to stop doing it. and that doesnt mean me trying harder than yall if anything yall need to try harder than me #oh and uh me telling you What It Is isnt the same as me insulting you. btw. at worst its patronizing when you Do know better #but otherwise im literally just trying to be helpful. even if it is snappy and said pettily sometimes 💁#at least i can rest easy knowing i tried being helpful rather than feeling like a self-proclaimed 'morally superior' egotistical jackass #💁💁💁💁💁#i dont know better! i know what i know and i work off of what i know and help people from where i come from and my own experience #i dont claim to know everything i dont stand on this rock claiming to conquer all that is to be known about it like some of yall do #i dont get on my high horse trying to preach to people abt How They Should Be Or Else They're Irredeemable (And Also I'm Perfect btw)#and if i ever do its for the least serious thing possible and im probably fuckin joking #and ig rn i am kinda doing a 'i do this better than you' thing but again its a #'i do this better than you. you should be able to do it as well as i do too or better. challenge urself to be better' thing rather #than 'haha look at me im so much smarter than you and better than you and more deserving! everybody praise me!!!' thing

0 notes

kaiasky · 1 month

Text

listen up chucklefucks, i just gotta say. I'm not defending zir, but I'm sad zie deactivated. Like, i get that trauma lasts a long time and the good stuff is maybe easy to forget?? so maybe it's just like that. And my beloved mutual @/pompeyspuppygirl made a post about zir clout chasing behavior, which is pretty shitty behavior if it's true (and if we're canceling someone it had better be pretty severe). anyways now that zie's gone pompeyspuppygirl said it was okay to make this post (again, thanks ppg everyone go follow her--really everyone in this whole drama is worth a follow)

ANYways yeah zie was my mutual and like, reblogged a lot my smaller posts. (that isn't to discredit what my mutual pompeyspuppygirl is saying about zie clout chasing ofc). AND idk zie was always reblogging art from new and undiscovered artists and reblogging donation posts (which if you don't know is really bad if you're trying to clout chase...) (again, though, ppg is my mutual i believe her.) and like, remember on valentines day i tried to blaze zir posts and zie told me to stop because zie didn't want the posts to go viral? (but again ppg is my mutual and has a lot of proof in the Google doc I'm not trying to disprove that I'm just saying what else I know)

Idk, like i feel like a lot of people loved zir's blog a while back, bc like zie DID make some good posts?? So idk why everybody's acting like they aren't even a little bit sad.,. like ngl this feels like maybe all the reasonable people left to Twitter and all the Twitter refugees who love drama came here??? shdfhhdhdhdhdh haha but idk...look idk, i just, julie i do miss you. idk. more thoughts later sorry I'm getting worked up shshs

#with apologies to the bard #ides of march #kaia.mypost #unreality #to be clear this is intended as a rough rewrite of the friends romans countrymen speech from shakespeare and not a reference to real drama

5K notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 3 months

Text

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window.

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer.

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.”

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous.

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?”

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in.

“what? n-no!”

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you.

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp.

it just didn't seem fair.

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods.

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest.

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest.

every demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself.

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?”

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching.

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.”

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.”

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze.

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too.

“she deserved more.”

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there.

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do.

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise.

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.”

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm.

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day.

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.”

luke bristled at your nickname for him.

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go.

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in.

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly.

the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again.

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down.

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse.

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled.

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning.

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone?

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one.

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward."

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you.

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp.

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready.

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him.

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through.

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him.

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power.

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood.

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased.

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess.

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson.

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?”

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken.

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.”

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer.

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too.

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time.

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more.

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips.

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die.

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy.

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away.

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze.

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse.

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.”

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality.

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie.

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat.

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him.

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for.

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did.

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it.

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair.

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates.

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes.

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.”

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes.

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that.

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you.

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?”

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush.

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….”

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right.

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for.

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached.

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?”

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?”

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him.

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.”

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said.

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow.

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air.

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch.

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion.

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp.

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him.

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment.

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door.

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire.

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god.

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy.

everything was falling into place.

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you.

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles.

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist.

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him.

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey.

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy.

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?”

“they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true.

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him.

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it.

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down.

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet.

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog.

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more.

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously.

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated.

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind.

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated.

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well.

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.”

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe!

would you hate him, if you knew?

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage.

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?”

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns.

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.”

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment.

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips.

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe.

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his.

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath.

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time.

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted.

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor.

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother.

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock.

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.”

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being.

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.”

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone. we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance.

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor.

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape.

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice.

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head.

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life.

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

#this is my baby fr #really feeling the tragic hero vibe down to my core #will prob do a part 2 from reader's POV!#ofc inspired by get him back! bc nemesis!reader....#percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan smut #saf writes #Spotify

5K notes · View notes

unhingedgirlythings · 20 days

Text

FUCK IT

SUMMERY : Reader gets her date interrupted when Hotch calls up asking for her to get to the BAU. Reader rushes over still dressed up and a certain dr can’t keep her eyes off her teehee.

Tags:fem reader , a huge amount of awkwardness, reader is over her love life

A/N: I WANTED AWKWARD SPENCER REID, bare with me tho cuz I haven’t written a fanfic since I was 13 and it was horrible so please be kind and let me know your thoughts :))) enjoyyy.

——————///—————///--——————///——————

You were used to your phone ringing at the WORST possible times, I mean with your job that was something you just had to prepare yourself for. Serial killers don’t take a break just so you can have a girls night out or take a nice relaxing bath after a long day. Although never in your life did you imagine the wave of relief that would wash over you as the all too familiar ringtone blared from your phone. Normally you would groan and feel your body grow more exhausted whilst hesitantly picking up the phone, but not tonight. Nope. Fortunately for hotch, you couldn’t have answered the phone faster. “what’s up” low and behold hotch was on the other end requesting your presence ASAP!

You tried to hide your glee as you glanced over at the douche-ist blind date that the great quote on quote “matchmaker” of the century Garcia, had raved on about the week before. To be fair the date didn’t start off bad, it was actually the most decent one you’ve had yet. Honestly you were ready to finally praise Penelope for actually finding you a decent man to take your mind off the unrequited school girl crush that you had on a certain “kid” genius. somehow you escaped the dude who clearly was stuck in some frat boy mindset, well not without some snarky comment made towards you which you shut down a little harsher then needed but seriously you couldn’t hold back anymore, you had no idea what possessed Penelope into thinking you would EVER consider going home with the king of fucking douchebags (most likely the biceps and tight clothing that the man sported). Nevertheless here you were speeding down the freeway, thinking way too hard about your love life completely blanking and forgetting to drop by your apartment to quickly change into something more work appropriate.

Before you knew it you’ve parked your car, walking into the cold air. A shiver runs down your body and the shock hits you when you realize. Here you are in a little skimpy black dress that clings to your curves in “just the right way” according to Penelope before shoving you out into your car heading to that horrible excuse of a date, “ahh shit. Fucken seriously! Of course this is just my luck … I mean at least I look good” groaning and mumbling to yourself, you make your way into the building. You knew Hotch would be understanding, I mean you never know when you’re gonna be called in and it sounded urgent so yeah, sometimes you and your coworkers walk in with inappropriate work wear. You will never forget the time he called everyone in at god knows what time, Spencer had walked into the room with his pjs sporting a fluffy dress robe, you seriously thought someone was going to have to perform cpr on you that night.

Walking into the building in heels was definitely a pain in your ass, but you managed as you pushed the briefing room door open. A low wolf whistle from Derek Morgan was the last thing you needed right now “damn sweetheart, who knew you could clean up so nicely“ As you make your way into the room, you playfully roll your eyes at him.“haha very funny” you cringed as everyone’s attention was now drawn to you. while taking a seat next to JJ, wishing to be wearing literally anything else “Sorry Hotch, i came straight from..” you hesitate for a second, glancing around before continuing “A date, but this sounded important so I didn’t have time to change”The stoned faced man simply nods at you “It’s fine. You're here, right now we have a lot to cover” He starts debriefing the team, leaving no detail out of the case, no matter how brutal, you tried your hardest to give him your unwavering attention, but you could feel someone’s eyes on you. And out of the corner of your eye see him. Spencer.

His stare was hot and intense, and fuck was it making you become a flustered mess. You glanced at him from your peripheral trying your best to be subtle about it, it was getting harder and harder to focus on Hotch and the case, not Reid. But when his puppy dog eyes drifted up, down and all over your body, your body involuntarily reacted, slightly squirming in your seat. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes turn and lock onto his gorgeous brown ones, a smirk graces your lips as he finally notices your eyes now on him. Looking like a kid being caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he turns pink from the embarrassment and shame of being caught, and god did that make your head spin. Now it was his turn to awkwardly squirm in his seat while staring at Hotch with all his attention. You giggle under your breath at his fumbling awkwardness. Before you know it everyone around you starts to pack up their things and stand up, leaving you confused. Of course you spent the whole debriefing paying so little attention to the case and more on Spencer.

Sighing, you pull the hem of your dress down as you stand trying to save yourself from even more embarrassment. “soooo how did it go? Was he as yummy as you’d hoped?” Garcia wraps her arms around yours as you try not to stumble down the stairs towards your desk “you, my love are officially banned from meddling in my love life” you could already hear the trail of complaints bouncing around in her head as you plopped down onto your desk chair, reaching for the new case folder hoping to catch yourself up before take off in the morning “aww come on I for sure thought you’d be jumping his bones, all those rippling muscles, who In Their right mind could resist” the thought of the man you had seen a few hours prior put a foul taste in your mouth, causing your face to scrunch up in disgust “he was a complete dick, he legit referred to himself as an “alpha male” AN ALPHA ,Only thing I wanted to jump , was off a building at that point” a defeated look from her was all the conformation you needed, no longer were you going on blind dates, and your love life was back to being non existent and sad “sorry Pen I tried, I really really tried, you just have horrific taste in men like my god do we need to get you some help. These guys are basically human garbage” whilst looking up your eyes naturally drift and settle on Spencers desk frowning as you watch him, his heads buried in the case file whilst obsessively jotting down notes like some multitasking god, your heart couldn’t help but pine after his more, the looks you shared moments before didn’t help your case either. Resting your chin in the palm of your hand, you drag your eyes away trying to spare yourself from going into one of your Spencer Reid spirals. You look up at Penelope already disliking the pitiful look she was giving you “are you sure your ready to give up?, I mean I know this cute guy who would be super into you, he's just your type “the new voice startled you, turning in your seat you’re met with Emily smirking down at you whilst leaning against your desk inserting herself into the conversation with JJ beside her “wow ok fun, are we all just gonna just dive head first into my personal life?, don’t we have a case to work on?” trying to deter the subject of the conversation off of you was a bust, as the women you call friends gleam down at you with a shared look “yeah no this is too entertaining to sit out on.” you couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now, letting out a groan you leaned back in your chair covering your face in hopes of hiding the redness in your cheeks “sweetheart, what you need is a good ol one night stand, get a certain pretty boy out of your system” if you weren’t already melting into a puddle of embarrassment, you definitely were now “Morgan shut up please for the love of everything holy”

you could only pray Spencer wasn’t paying attention to the little group that was forming at your desk, maybe he was being good and reading the case file like the rest of them should be doing but of course luck wasn’t in your favor tonight “what are we talking about?” Before you could shut the whole conversation down Morgan happily answered Spencer “oh, we were just discussing Y/L/N’s love life. I think she needs a good root, what do you think?” that stupid smirk Morgan was happily wearing was enough to make your blood boil, now you truly wished to disappear “ok ok that’s enough” you shoot up from your seat avoiding any eye contact with Spencer not wanting to see his reaction to your humiliating red face “conversation over, my love life is going back to being non existent, thank you for your concern but it’s over, officially dead so no more talking about it.” you snatch the file off your desk ready to get the hell out of whatever situation you found yourself in “i'm going home to at least get some sleep before we leave tomorrow or I’ll be a zombie all day” with that you hastily made your way out of the building and into the cool night air once again.

wrapping your arms around yourself in hopes to provide some warmth, you slowly make your way to the car park. Before you could make it to your car you could hear foot steps getting closer and closer until they were right behind you, stopping along with yours once you had reached front of your car. Quickly spinning around you slam them onto the car's hood, arm in your hand, face down and pinned.

“Ow ow ow ow Ow!” Shit. It was Spencer. The man you’ve been daydreaming about and here you were pinning him to the hood of your car. “oh shit sorry, my god, don’t walk up on me like that holy shit Spence you scared me” you pull away off him whilst letting go of his arm and backing away a little. Spencer lets out a hiss of pain as he pushes himself off the hood, rubbing his arm to try and relieve the pain “sorry I was just trying to make sure you got to your car safely. It’s late a-and” he looks at your dress whilst clearing his throat looking away awkwardly “are you ok? you seemed upset in there” he looks back at you whilst giving you a smile that made you wanna pass away on the spot “yeah I’m ok, just having your dating life put on full blast in front of the team like that can be a tad embarrassing” silence was the only response you were met with, you glance up at Spencer trying to think of something, anything to say in this moment “you look really nice by the way, it’s unfortunate your date turned out that way.” His eyes meet yours, your breath gets caught in your throat as heat creeps up your neck to your face “t-thanks” tugging on the hem of your dress you smile sheepishly “not the most comfortable outfit, honestly wish Pen let me wear my sweater but you know”

“Penelope” you both say, you giggle as Spencer chuckles. “Oh by the way, I thought you may want these, may help a little tomorrow” he hands you the notes he took from the briefing, Your fingertips brush against his, the feeling of warmth from his hands sends a shiver down your spine. “Thanks Spence. I appreciate it” you stand there longer than needed before you start to turn away from him. “You know, that even though there aren't any hard statistics, it’s roughly estimated that every 1 in 3 or 4 blind dates actually end up as a success” he rambles on, looking back at him you try to pay attention but you can’t stop your eyes from sifting down towards his lips “so there is a chance” his voice fades away as his words become background noise and your thoughts become louder and louder, all you could think about was him, the feeling of wanting only grew stronger with each passing minute. It didn’t help that his lips were tempting you, calling you in. you couldn’t hold yourself back much longer, will power growing weaker and weaker “fuck it” your body moves before commen sense had its time to put a stop to whatever ridiculous thoughts you had muster up, suddenly your lips press onto his without thinking it through. It was short and one sided yet sweet, the faint taste of coffee and sugar overwhelmed your senses

The sudden realization hits you hard as you push yourself off Reid, the feelings of regret and fear settles itself in your stomach making you feel sick “Sorry I wasn’t thinking, shit sorry, forget that happened ok” you back away keeping your eyes glued to the ground in fear that you’ll look up and only see rejection written on his face. What in the hell possessed you to do that?, why the fuck did you do that, the only reason you kept your feelings shoved down was to protect your friendship with Spencer, nothing meant more to you then the bond you both shared and now you’ve ruined it and for what? A stupid kiss? “wait, uh No no it was just unexpected I didn’t hate it actually quite the opposite” your head snaps back up at a red faced flustered Spencer Reid “don't apologize“ his warm hands warp around your cold ones as he steps closer to you once again “did you um maybe want to try that again? Only if you want to though I don’t want you to regret anything” you giggle as he starts to nervously stumble over his words, this time more confident in your actions your lips find his for the second time tonight.

The taste of coffee meets your lips again as your body relaxes into the kiss, which is very reciprocated this time. The warmth radiating from Spencer chases the cold night air away. As your bodies shuffle closer together. you both hesitantly pull away from each, you wanted to stay here in this moment for as long as possible but of course your bed was calling your name along with the early flight departure. “I should go” you really didn’t want to “I know“ his hands stayed on your waist for a moment before slipping away “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow” the sweet look on his face drove you crazy, the urge to say fuck it and stay with him for the remainder of the night was overpowered by the sleepless night before, you settle for placing a goodnight kiss on his cheek instead “night Spence” winking you open your car door and make your way in, you turn the car on and roll the window down to call out to him as he backs away with a smug smirk on his face “sweet dreams pretty boy” with that you drive away replaying the events of tonight in your mind, god you couldn’t wait to get the case over with so you could finally have a date that wasn’t going to end in ruins, especially with the man you’ve been crushing on since your first day, yeah no you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight now.

#spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

2K notes · View notes