#i mean how many times has nico had a moment of someone trying to comfort him and his reaction like 90% of the time is ''fuck off''
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underappreciated Nico detail that I like - he seems to be an angry crier! very frequently he's angry when he cries and he cries when he's extremely angry. very AuDHD of him. emotional regulation sucks my guy and he's just going through it.
#pjo#riordanverse#nico di angelo#also fun to think about Nico getting pissed off and then getting even more pissed off that he's turning into a bawling mess#or Nico getting sad/upset and the rage just flips on so he's sniffling and crying and cussing under his breath while kicking stuff#i mean how many times has nico had a moment of someone trying to comfort him and his reaction like 90% of the time is ''fuck off''#nico thinking about his trauma: [through tears] i need to go kill something right now or i'll explode#nico working on processing emotions character arc except instead of him stopping being an angry crier#it just turns into his friends holding a pillow for him to beat the shit out of until he works the energy out#shoutout to the cupid scene in particular as one of my favorite examples of this#just cause i love Nico having a breakdown and Jason watching it like ''uh oh. i think Bad Things Will Happen if he *actually* starts crying#other favorite example is TTC. Nico being so upset he creates a rift in the ground and tells Percy to die#nico is not uwu sad boy soft baby kitten tears crier#he is yelling things that would get him cancelled on the internet while snotty and bawling#he is insulting and threatening everyone in a 10ft radius
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Good Morning,
I would like to order to order some headcannons of the main Hazbin casts (Charlie, Angel, Vaggie, Husk) with an S/O whose known through hell as a no nonsense tough-as-nails powerhouse (think Nico Bellic from gta IV) but one day they find an abandoned little imp girl and adopt them as their own. The girl has obviously been through a lot, and in time they slowly develop a good relationship, with the others find out about their caring, kind, fatherly side.
Good morning And of course! I hope you like the headcanons! - Mod Syrup
Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Husk finding out their stoic s/o has a fatherly side
Charlie Morningstar
She never knew you had a soft spot, you were one of the toughest people she knew, and you didn't like wasting your time with anything. So when you had come home with a little Imp girl in your arms, she had a lot of questions.
First of which being where you even found the child. She looked very young, and she assumed that maybe the little one just, wandered off, she knew that some parents in hell just weren't that attentive to their children. She even fears that her parents might've been killed, she was an Imp, after all, Imp's weren't exactly treated the best down here...
You reassured her thought you had found the young child wandering the streets alone. You had asked where her parents were, but she refused to talk about it. You would've pushed her for more information, but... you could tell it really bothered her, so you had just caved and decided to adopt her.
Charlie was a bit wary about you, keeping a close eye on you two. She was so afraid that you might act harshly against the Imp girl if she did something wrong. But so far, you seemed to be a decent parent, a little rough, but she could tell you genuinely liked spending time with the child.
Then, that faithful day came, your new daughter had been playing to recklessly and accidentally broke a vase in the house, some that both she and Charlie assumed you'd get mad over... except, you didn't.
You didn't even yell at her when you saw her standing over the broken vase, crying as she tried to carefully clean up the pieces without hurting herself. Carefully, you kneeled down and shooed her hands away from the sharp glass, carefully looking at them for a moment to make sure she wasn't hurt...
Charlie watched the whole ordeal from the end up the hall, watching as you comforted your new daughter, before helping her pick up the glass and clean up any cuts she might've gotten. It was the sweetest thing she had ever seen out of you. She had only ever known you as the cold, no-nonsense demon who took no shit, someone who would've killed over something as simple as a mistake.
It was oddly nice, seeing this side of you for once.
Vaggie
"WHY THE HELL DO YOU HAVE A CHILD WITH YOU?!" "Found it" "WHERE?!" "Outside"
Needless to say, Vaggie has just as many questions as Charlie, if not more. Where did you find this kid? Where were her parents? What happened to her parents? How did you manage to just, stumble across a completely unsupervised imp child within the city?
You seemed to just role your eyes at her panic and questions. What the hell were you supposed to do? Just leave the child there, that'd just be irresponsible. Just cause you were tough as nails doesn't mean you didn't know what responsibility was.
Eventually, Vaggie gave up on asking questions, and just started doing research, wanting to at least help with raising the child. But you were insistent that you knew what you were doing. And to her surprise, you actually did.
Most would actually consider you a near-perfect parent. Which is a surprise, most people would've seen an abandoned imp child and not even give the thing a chance. You on the other hand are trying your hardest to make sure this kid grows up well. Vaggie was awfully proud of you.
That is until you came home looking like you had just gotten into a fight. Which you actually had gotten into a fight! Why? Well, it's simple, someone made one single derogatory comment about your daughter, and you fucking lost it.
When she asked why you acted so drastically you simply stated that you had to make sure your kid knew how wrong those people were about her. Besides, it's not like anybody really gives a shit anyways.
Vaggie wasn't sure if she was a bit scared, or more proud of you than before. Either way, you and your daughter seemed happy, so she decided to be your impulse control at most.
Angel Dust
Angel didn't even question where you had got the kid. Don't get me wrong, he definitely wanted to know where you found a random, abandoned imp girl, but at the same time, this was hell, it probably wasn't that hard to find children just wandering the streets.
He did ask if you were gonna help find the girls parents or if you had actually adopted her. Upon telling him that you were adopting the child, he was a mix between excited and confused. You were the toughest person in hell, Angel had to literally work his ass off to rope you into a relationship, so the fact that you saw an abandoned child on the street and decided to adopt her without question... it made Angel a little jealous.
Angel was more than happy helping you take care of the kid. Yeah he wasn't the best at it, but he was fun, and in his eyes, that was all that counted. In fact, he might've grown even more attached to the little girl than you did.
He knew how much you cared about the little girl and wanted to make her happy. But he never expected a day in his life that he'd walk in on the girl having a little tea party with you and Fat Nuggets. You had even let her put make up on you. You still had your stoic, tough-as-nails expression, which almost made the whole thing even cuter and maybe a little bit funny.
"Hello Angel, care to join us?" You didn't even have any emotion in your voice. It was like you were only doing this out of obligation. Though of course, Angel just had to join, he couldn't help it, he just thought it was so sweet that you were playing along with your new daughter's antics. Plus, Fat Nuggets looks so cute in a tiara.
Afterward, Angel helps you clean the makeup off your face and put your daughter to bed. You tell him that if he tells anyone it'll be over for you two. Of course, Angel tells literally everyone he can, how could he not? It was adorable, and he knows you won't just up and leave him.
Husk
Husk doesn't really care about most of the things you do he knows that if you're doing it, then you can probably handle it yourself. That's why he didn't exactly question or care about the fact that you now had an imp child with you.
He wasn't exactly fond of the child either, yeah he was technically the pseudo-father to the child, seeing as he was dating you and you had adopted the child, but he really didn't see himself as 'parent material'. Still, he did his best to at least put up with the child, especially when you had something important to do that would be too dangerous for her to be around.
He honestly didn't think you'd have that much of a connection with the child either, but you seemed to really care about her. He would've thought it was adorable if he wasn't such a downer.
One day you approached him with the little girl in your arms, and asked him to do a magic trick for her. He was a bit confused, but then you explained that you had told her about how he liked magic, and ever since then she's been begging you to let Husk show her a magic trick or two.
Husk acted as if this was a chore for him, but deep down he was a little bit excited. He loved cheesy magic tricks, and didn't get to do them often, so he was happy that the kid and him shared an interest.
He did a simple magic trick, just the coin behind the ear trick. Immediately after, the girl burst into laughter and clapped her hands. That's the moment when Husk actually started warming up to the kid. So he grabbed a deck of cards, and decided to do another simple magic trick, which she enjoyed just as much.
Husk glanced up at you for a moment, a for the first time since he's met you, he saw you smiling. The tough as nails, emotionless powerhouse, was smiling over the fact that their daughter and boyfriend were enjoying their time together. Of course, you immediately wiped the smile off your face when he noticed.
"What the hell you smiling about?" "I, wasn't smiling..." "Yeah, whatever you say big guy."
#☕༻︴tea time {headcanons}#☕༻︴order up! {requests}#☕༻︴a familiar face {non anon}#hazbin hotel x reader#Charlie x reader#angel dust x reader#vaggie x reader#husk x reader#x reader#proship#proshipping#ask to tag.
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Bring Me Back
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
Summary: Filming “Cherry” had its ups and downs for Tom. When filming finally takes its toll on him, you’re there to instantly bring him back from the world of Cherry.
Warnings: Mentions of drug abuse, PTSD, murder. A smidge of smut.
A/n: In honor of the Cherry🍒 trailer dropping, I decided to write this!
(GIF creds: @atealiers )
Any kind of project was a blessing to Tom. He loved being an actor. He was fond of telling stories through the big screen and got a kick from portraying many different characters. Acting was something he felt passionate about, it was his craft and he was very dedicated when it came to becoming his roles. Cherry was quite different from the other movies he’s been in. It was dark and contained many subjects like drug addiction, PTSD, and crime. The world of Cherry was something Tom was not used to; it was twisted. He hasn’t been exposed to things like drugs or the events that Nico Walker had been through. Which was why he was hesitant to take on the role of Cherry.
When the Russo Brothers approached him with the idea, he was excited. He was getting the opportunity to tell another story and would explore the world of a new character. Though the more he looked into it, he realized that maybe he wasn’t up for the role. Was he really ready to dive into the dark and traumatizing life of Nico Walker? As an actor, he was willing to take the job, it would give him an opportunity to expand his career and would possibly be one of his best work. As Tom, he wasn’t sure if he could handle learning or re-enacting the events that occurred in Cherry. But Tom did like a challenge, which was why he ended up agreeing to become Cherry.
He prepared himself mentally and physically pre- production. For research, he interviewed army veterans and former drug addicts to get an idea of what it was like to be in those positions. To get the look of Cherry, he did a variety of things. For example, going on a diet and losing weight, then gaining said weight again once they had to shoot the army scenes. Another thing he did was shave off the gorgeous brown curls that adorned his head. At first you weren’t too happy with his change in hairstyle, but later on you found yourself running your hands along the short strands of hair, loving the fuzzy feeling it gave your palms.
After the interviews and hearing others’ experience, Tom felt a level of responsibility to tell the story of millions of people around the world. Not only was it telling the story of Nico, but of other army veterans who suffered from PTSD and people who’ve had drug addictions. He was fully on board now and there was no looking back. He was going to push himself to the limit and to places he’s never been before.
Filming was tough. There were scenes he had to do that were so unlike him, that felt wrong, and sometimes he just had to take a step back. They didn’t feel right, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. This was his job, if he wanted this movie to be the best that it can, he was going to commit. Thankfully, he was working with the Russos, who he’s known for a while now. He was familiar with the two and they were patient with him, giving him the time to regain himself before shooting an intense scene. The cast and crew were very understanding as well, creating a safe space for him on set. Having Harry along with him helped as well, the familiarity of his brother kept him grounded and avoided him from falling into the void of Cherry. Though he had all these supportive people around him, there was only one person who could calm him down when things got suffocating on set. The only person he wanted to be in Cleveland with him but wasn’t. You. Since you had your own life and job, you were unable to fly out to Cleveland with him. Instead you stayed at your shared home with Tessa as company. All he needed was you when he felt the affects of Cherry caging in on him. Just the sound of your comforting voice over the phone could clear his head and make him breath again.
He had his bad days on set, where he would have to take a moment and hide in his trailer for a few minutes. During those few minutes he liked to be alone as he waited for you to answer your phone. The line would ring, it’d stop, then the sound of your sweet voice would be the only thing he’d hear. Sometimes you didn’t answer the first time, but nonetheless you answered eventually. It wasn’t the same as having you with him in person, you had your responsibilities, and he understood that. He just wished that one day you’d come to Cleveland. He wanted to be in your arms, stuff his face into your neck, breath in your familiar scent, he just wanted to feel you. You were his home. His safe haven. And it was all he wanted right now.
•
Glancing at your phone, you wondered why Tom hasn’t texted you yet. Not that you were itching for him to text you, but because around this time he would be blowing up your phone telling you things that happened during filming or how his day was going. You decided that filming probably went into overtime making him busy during his break. You shrug to yourself and continue working on your laptop.
You hear the sound of Tessa’s nails clicking against the floors as she enters the office of your home. You greet her with a smile as she settles herself beside your legs.
“Is it dinner time already, Tess?” You scratch her head as you glance at the time on your screen. It was currently nine at night, a bit late for dinner, but you haven’t noticed.
“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll get us dinner. How does that sound, love?” A somewhat sound of approval emits from Tessa. You get back to work, fingers typing away as you finish off the last of your work.
You finish in four minutes, finally satisfied with your work. You let out a content sigh and turn your laptop off. When you get up you stretch and let your bones crack after being in the same position for hours. Tessa joins you, stretching out her front paws then shaking her body out. You chuckle as you lead the way to the kitchen. Taking the scoop for Tessa’s kibble, you fill her bowl up, causing the dog to look up in curiosity. Once you placed the bowl down, her tail wagged wildly as she stuffed her face into her food.
You decided on going for something simple, ramen noodles. You were too tired too cook anything and ramen noodles were the quickest thing to cook in your pantry. While you waited for the noodles to heat up you checked your phone. You went through your notifications, but there were still no texts from Tom. Though you were concerned, you assumed that they had a long shooting day, making him too busy to text. 
Hi love! I hope you’re doing well in Cleveland. I know you’re probably busy, but hopefully filming isn’t tiring you out too much. Have an amazing day! Don’t forget to drink some water from time to time and eat :) Tess and I miss you and love you so much! Talk soon xxx
You send the text with a smile. He won’t read it till he was free or done with filming, but you knew he’d see the message while you were asleep.
The microwave beeps, letting you know that your food was done. You end your night catching up on episodes of New Girl and eating soup. When you were done you did your nightly routine and settled in bed. You turn the lights off and snuggled under the warm sheets.
“Night Tessa.” You whisper to her. A huff comes out of her as she makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed. When the both of you were settled, you slowly drifted off to sleep.
Buzz
Buzz
The harsh vibrations of your phone shook you awake. Desperate for sleep, you blindly grab your phone and turn it off. Silence fills the room again as you turn around to stuff your face into Tom’s pillow. You were slowly drifting back to sleep when your phone began to vibrate again. With a groan you stretch back and snatch for phone off the night stand. You don’t bother looking at the caller id.
“Hello?” Your voice rasps out.
“Thank God you answered.” The person on the other line said. “I know you’re busy, but how soon can you visit Cleveland?” The deep voice was belonged to Harry.
“Uh—I’m not too sure, I’ll need to check in with my boss.” You reply. When you start feeling more awake you become curious as to why Harry can be calling you. “Why? Is everything ok? How’s Tom? I haven’t heard from him all day.”
The younger Holland sighs. He takes a moment to answer your questions making you suffer in silence, wondering what could have happened to your boyfriend. “Um, they’ve been shooting some intense scenes lately. Tom’s been trying his best but everyone’s noticed that he’s been a bit different.”
You sit up in bed feeling more awake. “What do you mean by different, Haz?”
“Well he’s snapped at the Russos quite a few times. There was this one scene, that they shot multiple times, and Tom would just break down after every one. (Y/n), I’m concerned for my brother, I don’t know what else to do. He’s locked himself in his room after every shoot. A—and I don’t know. I’ve tried to tell him that he can talk to me but he wouldn’t.” Harry explained, his voice croaked. You heart felt heavy for him. Harry was always there for his older brother, so to see him feel so helpless made you feel sorry.
“Haz, calm down, you know how your brother can get. How long has this been happening?”
Harry sniffed over the phone, “About a few weeks now. It’s only started becoming worse last week and now.”
The concern you felt for Tom grew. From what he’s been texting you, filming had been going great. He appeared happy on your FaceTime calls and sounded like his usual self. But maybe he actually wasn’t.
“Harry everything’s gonna be fine, alright?” You assure him. “I’ll call my boss first thing in the morning and when I get the ‘ok’ to leave I’ll get the first flight out to Cleveland. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds good. Can you tell me if you can make it? I’ll have someone come with me to pick you up at the airport.” His voice is quiet, almost muffled.
“Yeah I will, don’t worry.”
“Ok, thank you (y/n).” A small smile forms on your lips. You rub the sleep out your eyes as you glance at your closet. “Alright Haz, I’m gonna go now. But if there’s anything else, just text me or call.”
“I know, stay safe (y/n).” You bid him goodbye and place your phone on the empty space beside your side of the bed. Tom’s side of the bed. You bite your lip in thought as you worry about your boyfriend. You knew he was doing almost everything he can to make sure the movie came out perfect. If that meant shredding himself emotionally and physically, he was going to do it. Tom was dedicated to his work, but he’s never done anything close to Cherry, making you worried about the thoughts that could possibly be going through your lover’s head.
Tessa, who’s now woken up, waddles closer to you, sensing your uneasiness. You appreciate the dog’s gesture and pull her into your side, resting your chin on her head. You were basically sleepless the whole night. Although you haven’t emailed your boss yet, you already had a suitcase packed of your clothes. Your passport and other important belongings were already in a bag, ready to leave London.
The morning had been hectic. You’ve managed to get two hours of sleep, waking up at six in the morning. Still in bed, you sent your boss an email about a family emergency and how you needed to be out of the country for at least a week. As if the gods above knew of your situation, your boss willingly let you go, no questions asked and gave you well wishes. With that out the way, you scowered the Internet for flights to Cleveland. Luck was on your side that morning because you’ve booked a flight that took off in the afternoon. With your bags packed, you drove to Nikki and Dom’s to drop off Tessa.
Now all checked in, you were at Heathrow Airport waiting to be called for your flight. You were sat at your gate, with an iced coffee and a croissant from Starbucks, texting Harry. The two of you were discussing the time you’d arrive and how he’d pick you up. When you were both in agreement, you two decided to catch up. He had been in Tom’s trailer eating his breakfast. An hour passes and you were being called to board the plane.
You settle in your seat, but your leg bounced in anticipation. After the things Harry told you, you just wanted to have your boyfriend in your arms. You knew everything was probably getting to his head, all you wanted to do was hold him and tell him that he was going to be ok. As the plane began to take off, your lack of sleep caught up on you. Throughout the whole flight, you slept soundly, the worries of Tom subsiding for the time being.
~🛬~
The plane lands in Cleveland safely. It was night when you arrived. With your bags, you looked around the airport for a familiar curly haired boy. Harry waves wildly at you before running and pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh wrapping your arms around the slender boy.
“How’s your day been, Haz?” You ruffle his hair as he rolls your suitcase to the parking lot. He shrugs, “The usual. Was on set with Tom, ran around and got things for him, nothing much happened honestly. But you’re here now, so this is the highlight of my night.”
The two of you approach a black car with a driver inside, Harry motions for him to unlock the trunk. He lifts your case in before the two of you get into the backseat.
“How was your flight?” Harry asks you. The car began to move, exiting the airport and entering the highway.
“I slept through all of it, I don’t remember a thing about the flight besides getting on and off it.” You chuckle, leaning your head back against the headrest.
Harry nudges your shoulder, “Thanks for coming out with such short notice.” You wave him off. “It’s no worries, anything for my boys.”
The car is quiet, the only sounds that could be heard is the car’s wheels against the pavement. You turn to Harry, “How was he today?”
“He was pretty good in the morning.” Harry started. “Then filming started and he would grow frustrated after a few scenes. His temper’s been short. He snapped at me during lunch, which is normal, but I just asked him if he wanted some water. He broke down after a certain scene today, I tried talking to him but he still wouldn’t open up about it.” Tom wasn’t too open about his feelings sometimes. He struggled to voice them at times making all his frustrations and feelings bottled up in his head.
Half an hour later and you guys arrive at Tom’s rented home in Atlanta. As soon as you opened the door, you felt the heavy atmosphere. It was somber and tense, the chilliness of the weather also felt inside the house. Harry gestures up the stairs, “Don’t worry, go see him. His room is the first door on the left.”
You quietly thank him and climb up the stairs. You find his door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You hear some shuffling behind the door, “Harry I’m fine! Leave me alone!” His voice was deep, a bit scratchy. You frown at the door.
“Tom?” The room falls quiet. Suddenly you hear fumbling and the sound of heavy footsteps behind the door. The door opens and you finally see him. He was dressed in a large shirt with sweatpants. He looked tired, dark circles under his eyes, eyes glassy, and chapped lips.
“(Y/n)? You’re here?” He asks you in disbelief. A tight lipped grin forms on your lips.
“Yeah, Har—“ You were going to explain how you got there but he immediately threw himself at you. His arms wrap tightly around your figure, his head dipped into your neck, pulling your closer into him. One of your arms go around his neck while the other rubs his back soothingly. A whimper bubbles out of him, his shoulders beginning to shake. You managed to shuffle the both of you back into his room, closing the door behind you.
“You’re ok.” You whisper into his ear, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. His grip around you never falters. Though he was much taller than you, he seemed so small at the moment. His body drowned in the shirt he wore, making him look thinner. You feel tears soaking into your shirt, making your heart clench in pain. You rest your forehead against his shoulder, holding and whispering sweet nothings into his ear until he was ready to speak.
A few minutes pass until his removes his head from your neck. You frown at his tear stained face, his eyes and cheeks red from quietly sobbing into your shoulder. Your hands cup his face, wiping the trails of tears on his cheeks. Tom leans closer to your touch, his eyes shut while his lips kiss your palm.
“I’m sorry, you’re probably tired from the flight.” He apologizes but you shake your head. You lead him to his bed and sit against the headboard. Tom follows in suit, desperately trying to get closer to you. His arms wrap around your torso, his head rests on your chest, while your legs tangle themselves together.
“I’ve had plenty of sleep on the flight, how are you?” Your lips are against his short hair from holding him so close. You nails scratch softly at his hair, calming him down.
“I don’t know if I could finish it.” He quietly admits. He shakes his head at himself.
“Why’s that, Tom?” Your boyfriend takes a deep breath as he sits up, removing himself from your touch. He sits across from you with legs crossed as he holds his head in his hands.
“I—I, it’s too much. There’s so much fucked up things he’s done. And all the things he’s seen. I just—sometimes I feel like it’s me who’s committed all of those things. When we shoot the scenes in the war and when I had to do drugs and rob banks, I felt like I lost myself—“ He cries interrupting himself to take a breath in. Compared to your fingers that ran gently through his hair, his clawed at his head. His palms rub harshly at his face, turning his skin a bright tint of red. To see Tom in such pain made you sad. You hated seeing him like this.
You gently remove his hands from scratching at his face and hold them in his lap. He stares down at your hands, clinging onto them as if his life depended on it. “I get lost in the character sometimes and I have to pull myself out of it to bring me back. But it keeps on happening over and over again. Then the Russos kept telling me to reshoot the scene more like Cherry, and I lost it and yelled at them.” You feel his tears fall to your your hands, making tears well up in your own eyes. You shuffle closer to him and kiss his forehead before pulling him into you. You stay quiet, letting him get whatever he wanted to get out.
Tom’s face is against your shoulder again. He sniffs before continuing, “It’s like everyday I find something he and I have in common. Then I think that maybe I’m turning into him. I don’t want him to be part of me. (Y/n), I don’t want to be him, I don’t want to do the things he’s done.” He sobs into your shoulder. Your heart breaks at how broken he sounded. His shoulders shook again, his back burning up with tension. A few tears made it’s way down your cheeks as you pulled his face away from you.
“Look at me.” You urged him. His jaw clenched, still looking down at his lap. He shook his head in response. “Tom, please. Look at me.” Your voice cracks. He slowly tilts his head up, your eyes connecting. He didn’t have that twinkle in his eyes, it’s like they’ve lost the light in them. Instead they were dark, like there was no life behind them. There was a mix of sadness, confusion, and even fear in his eyes.
You sadly smiled at him, cupping his face with your hands. “You’re not going to be him. You never will. You’re Tom. You are nothing close to Nico or Cherry. You are the sweetest man I have known in the world, you wouldn’t even hurt a damn fly. You’re not him. I know you aren’t. You wouldn’t do the things he’s ever done even if you were forced to. I know you Tom, I assure you, you’re nothing like him.” Tom hiccups, gripping onto your wrists.
“When this is all over and you’re done filming, we can forget about him. We won’t even mention him.” You assure him, stroking his cheeks.
“What if—,” You cut him off.
“No, there’s no what if’s. You’re going to be fine Tom. You’re surrounded by people who love you and will make you realize that you’re nothing even near him. You are the kindest man ever, you love your family, you care about your fans, and your brothers. You’re busy always taking care of everyone else, I think it’s time you take care of yourself, love.” You tell him. A small smile is on your face but it falters, “You don’t have to go through this alone, Tom.”
Tom takes a shaky breath in. “You’ll be there right?” He asks like a child making sure his mother will be there when he wakes up. “You’ll be there with me to bring me back?”
Your thumb smooths the crinkle between his brows, “I always will. I promise.” He nods and pulls you into him. You climb onto his lap and settle on his legs. He stares up at you, one of his his hands supporting your back, the other pressed against your cheek. “Thank you. I missed you so much. I’m sorry for not texting, everything’s just been so taxing mentally and physically.”
“No, don’t worry I get it.” You turn your face to press a light kiss on his palm. For the first time since you’ve seen him, Tom managed to crack a smile on his lips. He moves some strands of hair away from your face before resting his large hand on the back of your head. “I love you. I love you so much, (y/n).”
“I love you too, Tom.” You whisper against his lips. He takes that as a sign to finally crash your lips together. After months being apart, the feeling of his lips against yours felt like coming home. The kiss was desperate, like it was the air you both breathed. Tom had been longing for your touch, he craved you every second of the day, whether it be sexually or just missing you. The kiss grew rough, your teeth clashing, tongues poking and gliding against each other.
Tom lays you down on the bed, hovering over you. His hands grab and stroke at your body, trying to pull off your clothes to get close to your skin. He suddenly pulls away from your lips. “I need you. Please, I need you.” He almost begs you. Panting, you nod and push him to lay on his back. “Ok, let me take care of you, Tommy.”
He yanks his shirt off, throwing it to the side. You do the same, leaning down to meet his lips again. You kiss your way along his jaw and down to his neck. When you find that certain spot, he lets out a throaty groan, head falling back against the pillows. You run your nails along his chiseled abs and slightly roll your hips against his growing length. Tom grunts, hands instantly connecting to your ass and gripping onto your cheeks. He helps you roll your hips more, deeper with more friction against you two.
“Mm, Tom. I missed you.” You moan against his neck. You bite down and soothe the spot with your tongue after.
Tom looks down at you, lifting his hips to meet your clothes pussy. “Fucking miss you so much. You have no idea how much I’ve been dreaming of being buried in you again.” You kiss your way down his chest, but Tom stops you. His hands grab onto your leggings and slide them off.
“N-no foreplay. I need to feel you.” He stutters out, mouth agape. You nod in agreement and take his sweatpants off along with his boxers. You spit in your hand, running your hand along his dick to give it some wetness. Tom helps you lift yourself over him and guides your hips down his erected cock. You let out a combination of a sigh and moan as your walls envelop and stretch around him. Tom slightly sits up against the headboard, your tightness wrapping around him. He lets out a cry of relief, your walls around him feeding his cravings. You use his shoulders as leverage to pull yourself up but Tom stops you.
“What’s wrong?” You eye him cautiously. Tom shakes his head, “Nothing’s wrong. I just—can we stay like this for a while? I just want to feel you, please?”
“Yeah, we can do that.” You send him a reassuring smile as you settle back down on him. His hands make themselves comfortable around your waist. You maneuver your arms under his and wrap them around his back. Tom smiles at you, rubbing your back and guiding you into his chest. Before you can nuzzle your face into his neck, he presses a kiss to your temple and lets his fingers get tangled in your hair.
With his eyes closed in bliss, he whispers, “Thank you for bringing me back. I love you.”
You kiss his collarbone basking in the feeling him being so close to you. “I’ll always be here. I love you too.”
#marvel#mcu#avengers#Tom Holland#tom holland x reader#Tom Holland imagine#tom holland one shot#tom holland headcanon#Tom Holland smut#Cherry#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland drabble
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How to say I love you without ever saying it at all
Read on AO3
Summary: I love you. Virgil has always struggled with saying those words. Roman has been hurt by them one too many times. However some things don't need to expressed through words.
Pairings: Prinxiety
Warnings: Slight Janus and Patton negativity (Janus moreso than Patton), roman is very angsty, i think that is about it!
Authors Notes: Another Post-POF/FWSA Prinxiety fic? You’d better believe it! (This is the only thing I know how to write now aalhdjhakfjadhf) This is a little different from my usual style of writing, so I hpe you enjoy! If you like this fic then please leave a comment or reblog as that makes my day!
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I love you.
Virgil had always struggled with saying those words. Something about the weight of them and what they meant and implied, felt too much and tended to cause him anxiety. He opted to show his feelings instead, showing his love and care through actions, doing and saying other things that help to convey his emotions towards others.
I love you, he said as he hung out with Patton, talking about feelings and eating cookies. I love you, he said as he listened to Logan talk about the latest book he had read. I love you, he said as he sat with Roman, allowing the creative side to do his makeup and paint his nails, talking about Disney and swapping nicknames as they did so. He never said any of those things out loud, but he always felt it, and he knew they knew.
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I love you. Roman hated those words. He had once loved them, the way they sounded, the way it provided a sense of warmth, the weight of them and how they could easily express want, comfort, support, friendship and, well, love. That was, until those words had been weaponised.
“Oh Roman, you know I love you.”
Those words were cold, slippery, smooth and hurtful. Roman knew love, one of his functions was literally romantic love, and this wasn’t it. No one who loved someone would hurt them this way, poke at their insecurities, build them up just to knock them down, use them and then leave them in the dust. To Roman, those words coming from his mouth sounding meaningless. Cold. Fake. Sharp. Those words hurt.
Roman desperately wanted to believe Patton when he said he loved him. He wanted to run into Patton’s arms, have Patton hold him while he cried, comfort him with cookies and a smile. But Patton had stood by. He had let this happen. He had moved forward, understood everything quicker than Roman, had hurt Roman and then left him behind. He wanted to believe Patton loved him, but he didn’t even say anything while Janus stood there and tore him down.
“We love you kiddo.”
“You know I love you.”
Those words, used again and again, with no real proof of any actual meaning. Roman wanted to believe them, believe that they loved him and that he was loveable, but when he heard those words all he could think about was how much they had hurt him.
Roman had sunk out and had barely made it to his room before he broke down, shaking as sobs wracked his body, feeling weak, fragile and broken. He had felt useless, worthless, wrong and hurt. He had felt more alone than ever, used, broken and left behind by everyone who had said they had loved him.
Except for Virgil.
Virgil and Roman had never really gotten along in the past, often at each other’s throats, there desires conflicting in almost every scenario. But, slowly and gradually, they grew closer. It started small, talking about neutral topics like Disney or favourite foods, teasing each other in a friendly manner, and then slowly talking about bigger issues, what they wanted, their goals in life. They started to hang out, spend hours doing each other’s makeup and watching The Nightmare Before Christmas so much they could recite it by heart. And in the midst of the chaos, the pain and the insecurity Roman was feeling, Virgil came and helped him.
Virgil had seen the signs. The way Roman put up a wall of dramatics and theatrics to hide his insecurities, the way he insulted people to drive them away, the way he made fun of things he loved to lessen the pain when others did it, the way he continuously and repeatedly got pushed down, brushed off, manipulated and made mistakes. Virgil had seen the hurt in his eyes when someone rejected an idea of his. He had seen Roman flinch whenever Janus spoke. He had seen the raw pain and heartbreak in his face when he found Roman after Janus’ acceptance, seen the broken shell of a side who was formerly strong and proud and brave.
And Virgil knew. He knew that he had to save Roman. Because he had been down that path. He had thought no one had loved him, that they didn’t care or hated him, that they didn’t need him, or were better off without him. He could see Roman going down the same path and knew it was only a matter of time before Roman was gone.
So when Virgil found Roman alone in his room, body shaking as he cried, looking broken and weak, Virgil knew he needed to try and save him. He loved Roman, and he couldn’t stand to lose him, not after they had come so far. Virgil felt a need to protect him, to hold him and save him from the pain.
I love you, he told Roman as he held him close as he cried. I love you, he said as he rubbed circles on Roman’s back, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. I love you, he thought, as he listened to Roman talk about everything he was feeling and thinking, knowing that he was only scratching the surface and that there was so much Roman was hiding. I love you, he said as he whispered words of comfort to the broken figure in his arms, holding him as close to his chest as he could, afraid that if he let go Roman would just break apart and disappear. “I’m here for you.” I love you. “It’s okay.” I love you. “You matter to me.” I love you. “I’m not leaving you.” I love you. “You’re my hero.” I love you. “You are amazing.” I love you. “You deserve so much love and happiness.” I love you. “You matter.” I love you. “I care about you.” I love you.
Roman had eventually fallen asleep, and Virgil had stayed the night, as if needing to protect him from every invisible force that could hurt him as he slept. And he never left. Day after day he stuck by Roman’s side, helping him pick up all the broken pieces of his life, sharing all of their scariest and darkest thoughts and all of times they felt worthless, useless, unwanted, unloved. Day by day they grew closer and closer, and slowly, gradually, naturally, Virgil found himself falling in love with Roman. He had always loved Roman, ever since they had all saved him from ducking out, but this was different. Being in love with Roman was warm, gentle, sweet, welcoming and natural.
And every day he showed it. He showed it by listening to Roman bare his soul to him late at night, when things were said that couldn’t be said during daylight. He showed it through staying with Roman for every step of the way, both of them leaning on each other for support and building each other up, piece by piece. He showed it by being there for Roman through the good and the bad, listening to Roman rant about whatever Disney movie, gay cartoon show or musical he was obsessed with at that moment, and comforting him when everything was too much and he broke down crying.
But Virgil could tell that Roman never really understood how much he cared, never really let himself believe that Virgil could care for him. He could see it in the way that Roman’s expression faltered whenever Virgil smiled at him, the way he cautiously smiled back, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards slightly before returning it with a sad grin. He noticed the emotions swimming in Roman’s eyes when he looked at him, the almost raw desperateness and dimming hope, as if almost wanting to believe something but not quite letting himself do so. And every time he noticed it, it broke his heart, but he didn’t give up. He would wait as long as it took for Roman to understand how much he loved him.
And then entered Nico. And Nico, well, he was simultaneously the best and worst thing that had ever happened to Thomas. The best because Nico brought Thomas such a sheer amount of excitement and happiness into his life that he had so desperately needed after the complete clusterfuck that was the wedding/callback situation. The worst because Nico brought change and change was scary. After this point there was no turning back. They were moving forward, into uncharted territory and it scared Virgil, more than anything. Not to mention the pain that they had felt at the last heartbreak, something Virgil wanted to avoid at all costs.
But Roman had looked so heartbroken, and he had gone through so much pain and hardship already, and he was just standing there, looking devastated and resigned. Virgil knew how much Roman wanted this, how much he craved this and how much he deserved it. Because Roman did deserve it. He deserved to be heard, to have happiness, to have his desires and wants and dreams be fulfilled, without being called selfish, bad, wrong, evil. What Roman wanted mattered, and Virgil could hardly stand the way he looked in that moment.
And so Virgil did the only thing he could do. And finally – finally - Roman understood. Roman looked at Virgil, the expression of brokenness and despair he had felt seconds ago morphing into one of disbelief and shock and eventually elation. Roman smiled, truly smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he let out a huff of laughter, evidently over the moon. All Virgil could do was stare as Roman transformed from the broken man he had known to the dashing, lively, passionate prince he had always been. And Virgil knew that Roman understood.
The push, for Roman. A silent I love you.
A hand on his shoulder. That look on his face. The highest of compliments.
I love you too.
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Thanks for reading!! Feel free to leave comments, reblogs or thoughts as that is greatly appreciated!!
#cat writes#prinxiety#prinxiety fanfic#hurt/comfort#roman angst#ngl kind of proud of the second half of this#patton negativity#janus negativity#i love patton but Roman is hurting so that is why it is there#ask to tag
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love seeing ur tags on my posts it means i get to think 🥰🥰 anyway mostly agree but at least to me nico’s constant need to prove himself is a sign of feeling like he’s not worth other people’s time and effort and he has to MAKE himself worth it. he does all he can in the hopes that people will notice him and tell him that he’s good enough because he relies on the approval of people he loves. he thinks love is something conditional for him and that he always has to be earning it because he doesn’t have enough worth to have it just granted to him. again this is more my own interpretation of his character and possibly a bit of projection
(Post)
I will not fail to acknowledge that I might also be projecting somewhat onto Nico, what is media but self reflection? I think there's a couple ways you can see Nico that are canonically "correct"
What I personally think happened with Nico is that he was aware he was worth more than the treatment he was receiving, but because so much rejection occurred he eventually just assumed he was the problem. There's things on this I would rewrite now but it holds up okay in what I'm about to try and explain.
The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault.
I think this is something that really describes Nico. He is never able to nestle himself in the comfort of sameness after a certain point. He is not given authority in his own story in the beginning, he is thrust into solitude, he is told he is a monster already and if not then he has no choice but to become one.
And he takes this blame upon himself, believing that it's him who has to prove himself. He doesn't acknowledge that maybe other people have their own biases against him, he says "I have to prove them wrong," and then does his best.
It's important to note that Nico is definitely grappling with Childhood Emotional Neglect, he's in a broken situation- and he recognizes that nobody wants him around, and that he's just more stress for an already stressed group of people, so he just backs down and starts to figure stuff out for himself. We see him accept some help and friendship from The Stolls in TTC but eventually he stops doing this at some point.
His leave from camp and time with Minos is when he is used:
you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this
This is something I would say is very true about this time period of Nico's life. Minos emotionally exploits Nico, emotional neglect and abuse (possibly physical abuse, who knows) are defining characteristics of their interactions. Nico talks about how Minos will just randomly leave him for extremely long periods with no assistance, and about how when he's around he's always telling Nico to try harder, to do better, do more. Note the time he tells Nico "you have no power over me", he's definitely holding things over Nico's head. I don't think it's wrong to assume comfort is a part of that, Nico is alone all the time at this point, and I'm sure he's starved for touch, and support, and connection- and he will take whatever he can get whether or not it is good or right.
At first he doesn't do anything against this, and it might be because he was so starved for attention that he was willing to endure abuse to receive somewhat a consistent form of it. I also think there's some evidence that points to the idea Nico was getting something from Minos, training and similar stuff, it's possible he was willing to form and upkeep a toxic relationship with him in order to gain experience.
However, I do disagree with "and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing because you don’t believe you’re worth anything more than this" because Nico does realize eventually that his situation isn't sustainable and that he has to do something- so he takes his narrative back into his own hands:
“Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the god of spirits! The ghost king!"
"No." Nico drew his sword. "I am.” (X)
So Nico, if he ever thought he was worth the treatment of being used for someone elses personal gain, he definitely overcomes some of it here, if not all of it. Nico is manipulated and used for Minos's personal gain, but he recognizes that it's not sustainable and makes a stand for himself. And this is the first time in the series where Nico truly is able to take control of his own narrative, everything before this moment is Nico being forced, or Nico with something looming over him, Nico crowning himself is him claiming his story.
So let's consider Hades in all of this, I don't think Hades manipulated Nico to the extent Minos did- but nonetheless, he did manipulate and abuse him, and this hurt Nico more than when Minos did it. Again, in the situation with Hades this is also true, "you unknowingly wear your heart on your sleeve and people will see this and take advantage of your trusting nature and unconditional love and they’ll never really love you they’ll just see you as an easy tool to be manipulated and used how they see fit and you won’t recognize that this is a bad thing". By the time Nico and Hades truly start interacting, we see that Nico's heart hasn't been fully removed from his sleeve, but it may have been lightened.
Here's the thing about the way Nico approached Hades, it's not naïve to trust family. The text in multiple places implies that Hades was around for at least a handful of years when Nico was a kid, it's not unlikely that Nico may have taken naps on his shoulder, held his hand to cross the street, maybe called him "Papa", "Dad", or "Tata" (Italian, English, old Greek). It makes sense that Nico goes to him, what doesn't make sense to Nico at first is that Hades would manipulate him. Unlike many of the other demigods, Nico knows he was a choice, and that at some point he was something wanted, so he expects some level of okay treatment from Hades. Hades loved his mother, and Hades if not wanting of Nico would have wanted Maria's wishes fulfilled, and Nico probably remembers Hades treating him warmly- or at least not harshly. The way Nico went to Hades makes sense, he wasn't expecting open arms surely, but he also wasn't expecting abuse.
Hades emotionally exploits Nico by using information about Maria, what would a little boy want more than the safety of his mother? He's so starved for human contact, who ever held him more than his mother? Who ever loved him more than her? Once Nico delivers Percy to Hades, his father crushes him, not only by harming Percy but by exploiting Nico's trust through Nico's mother- one of the things he's most desperate for.
We see Nico's heart come off his sleeve at this point, maybe not fully, but enough to where a stranger couldn't recognize it at first glance, and in a way where he has the means to hide it from most.
Except we don't see much of this, because the series is narrated by Percy- and Nico can't hide his heart from Percy.
Almost everything Nico does, everything he tries to do, is for Percy. Nico is so desperate for contact that he is pliant, but in Percy's hands Nico actually wants that contact, he's not interested in imitations of love or substitutes- he's looking for the real thing.
And Mr. Oblivious does-Annabeth-like-me Jackson isn't in any headspace to realize that a boy might like him, let alone Nico. This concern that Nico will join Luke, isn't entirely because Percy is misreading signals, but it's definitely part of it. Nico likes Percy so much that at one point he is willing to go to Tartarus if not entirely for him, then partially for him.
If Percy had realized, and rejected Nico- maybe he would have joined Luke, or at least he definitely would have been more likely to. The perception of Nico we get in PJO from Percy is unreliable, because Percy looks at Nico through the lenses of a concerned older brother, and Percy feels guilty in some way for the situation Nico is in. This gives not only a skewed, but slightly falsified narrative of who Nico is.
The original post of mine I linked, although yes, I would like to rewrite aspects of it now it holds up in the sense that Nico is always trying to prove himself, and this is a bit different than being a puppet. Nico is so starved that it is present in everything, @/arabnico gets it right:
nico’s longing is just so raw it consumes him whole and he cannot hide it at all because it reflects in absolutely everything he does and is nico’s just the means of the way for them and he settles for being it because he doesn’t think he can be much better or even deserves to it is sometting so twisted because nico has this innate utalitarian desire to be useful and to do something and to do the right thing but in the game of things he’s reduced to that puppet in the hands of fate and deities millennia older than him that see a wounded wandering soul doomed to be forever alone by a destiny so cruel it keeps him on his knees
Nico, in PJO especially, has little control over his own narrative. His mother is killed in punishment for his father's "wrongs", Nico is forced to endure this. Bianca grows tired of caring for Nico and leaves him behind, this is not Nico's fault but Nico is forced to endure the consequences of her actions. Bianca's fate is decided on a quest Nico isn't even able to go on, he is forced to endure the results. Nico then breaks the cycle, declaring himself The Ghost King, and dethroning Minos. Nico is forced to endure Hades's manipulation only because he did not see it coming, this wasn't an aspect in which Nico didn't have his narrative (he had already taken ownership of his narrative) but a blind spot in his rational.
The place where we vary is why Nico behaves this way, we can agree that it's because he's starving for human connection- but you believe it's because he has no confidence he is willing to submit himself, while I see his submission as an act of desperation.
Personally, I think to argue that Nico is like this as a result of lack of confidence does a disservice to his narrative (obviously it's fine to view him however you wish, and I wish you all the fun in doing so!). To boil this down to starvation and lack of confidence removes some level of Nico's autonomy in his own life, but also strips him of one of his strongest characteristics- those qualities of him which are like Orpheus.
Nico willing to go to the ends of the earth for love is not a weakness but a strength, his ability to carry on beyond the point in which he needs a rest is not a weakness but a sign of strength. His ability to go to the ends of the earth to right wrongs, and to show his love:
"... Cupid struck, slapping Nico sideways into a granite pedestal. Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard work- a quest that never ends. It demands everything from you- especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards."
Cupid is explaining Nico's idea of love in this scene, we see Jason say he prefers Piper's idea of love- but Nico only knows love in the way cupid describes, working desperately for a few moments with Bianca, working just to hear any scrap of information about his mother, always trying to prove himself to Percy- to overcome the way he feels about Percy (and boys in general).
Nico has only known love as something you walk to the ends of the Earth for, but he never stops fighting to be loved and acknowledged. Lesser men would give up and lay down, accept they are unworthy, but Nico keeps pushing to be acknowledged and accepted- to be recognized and loved without having to walk to the end of the Earth, but Nico knows he has to walk to that edge and face it before unconditional love will come to him.
To imply that Nico seeks love the way he does because he's unconfident in his ability to receive love ignores the idea that he's had his life forced into this position because of the fates. It loses acknowledgment to the strength it takes to pick yourself up and walk to the end of the Earth time and time again, because if he was unconfident then he would eventually lay down and accept he shouldn't be loved ever again.
I don't think confidence doesn't play into this at all though, it definitely has some impact on Nico, he does view himself as inherently less (he is overly self sacrificial- think Tartarus :/), and he does try to remove himself from others:
You yourself said: you blame yourself for the way people have hurt you, taken advantage of you, and abandoned you. they exploit your love and your naïveté time and time again. you tell yourself, surely, there must be something wrong with you. because—you are convinced—that people are good. “if they hurt me, it is because i am flawed. it is because i am weak. people will always hurt me—even people i love. it’s an inevitable truth for me.” (X)
And this connects to what I said: "The thing about being rejected is that the first time you argue it's the other person. And the second time you'll argue it's still them. If you're still arguing it's other people the third time, maybe but it's thin ice... But eventually you just have to accept that you're at fault."
I do think there's a reason Nico makes himself so "utilitarian", because he hasn't been handed unconditional love since Bianca. But again we disagree on the why, I see Nico's behavior in his utilitarian example of love as caring, the way more people should be in love. Too many people see love as something given without restraint, and yeah, love should be unconditional but in order for love to be unconditional you have to do the work to lay good foundation. To be utilitarian in loving is not an act of weakness, or a symbol of lack of confidence, it is a showcase of more care in love than most have to offer. We care for things, and place value on them determined by how much love and care goes into those things.
I also don't see Nico's self blaming for what happened as flawed, it's logical in his situation, and a common result of CEN. This self blame shows care and kindness, and this coincides with Nico's arcs, "If I am bad, how do I improve? If I have no choice but to be evil, how do I still be good?". Nico is always fighting not to be recognized for good or bad, but to be recognized for what he is.
Trust is not naivety either, the only reason Nico is regarded as naïve is because of the extreme circumstances of his life. People shouldn't have to expect abuse from people who are supposed to love them, people should have to accept abuse in order to receive love. If Nico's life had turned out different, his naivety wouldn't be viewed as a weakness but a strength- a kindness.
We're not actually viewing Nico all that different, there's this space where his character blurs together, and it becomes an individual duty to determine at what point a flaw becomes a strength, and a strength a flaw. Nico's stubbornness is a flaw if we're thinking about grudges, but it's a strength in his work ethic. Nico's ability to stand on his own is a strength in terms of questing, but it's a flaw when it prevents him from experiencing love in fullness.
#asks#gayleafpool#idk the ending of this is shit but idk how to close ends so hopefully you understand anyhow#also i don't want this to come off as there's a right and wrong way to view something because that's not true#i was just trying to elaborate further on why i view nico a certain way#i can definitely see why you view him how you do#i think we're both definitely projecting a bit because we're both right in a flawed wya#*way#but what is the human mind but flawed?#uhh to tag or not to tag?#i'll tag#nico di angelo#pjo#long post
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Perachel Is Not a Bad Ship
It’s really not. It’s actually one of the best-written relationships (romantic-wise and platonic) in any of the series, way better than Percabeth in my opinion (obviously you can think differently). But why does the fandom hate it so much? Because it ‘got in the way of Percabeth’? And yet you go on and ship Percy with Nico, Jason, Artemis, Athena, etc.? Doesn’t that ‘get in the way of Percabeth’ too? I don’t see any of you mercilessly hating on those ships. Honestly, most of the fans only hate Perachel because the fandom and Riordan told them they should and because hating on Perachel is ‘popular’. Guys- it’s 2021. You can stop acting like they weren’t cute.
But anyways, here’s my reasoning-
1. Rachel treats Percy good. Has Rachel ever hit Percy? Or insulted him? Or made him feel like shit about himself? Or canonically lowered his self-esteem? Or turn all possessive and jealous when someone else likes him despite not even being in a relationship with him? It’s even shown that Percy is a lot more himself when he’s around Rachel. He’s more funny, reckless, wild, laid-back, and carefree, while around Annabeth all he thinks about is the right thing to say. It’s pretty clear he’s more comfortable around Rachel cause she doesn’t overwork his mind or treat him badly, and she even makes him feel good about himself.
2. Percy likes Rachel (more than Annabeth). This is most obvious in the first chapter of The Last Olympian, when Percy and Rachel were driving out to the beach. Percy thinks “We'd spent a lot of time together this summer. I hadn't exactly planned it that way, but the more serious things got at camp, the more I found myself needing to call up Rachel and get away, just for some breathing room. I needed to remind myself that the mortal world was still out there, away from all the monsters using me as their personal punching bag”. When Percy was stressed, he called Rachel, not Annabeth. If you find yourself calling up someone to help you relax and take care of yourself, you clearly like them better than someone you don’t. And not only that, but Percy and Rachel probably spent more time together than Percy did with Annabeth. Percy and Annabeth only saw each other during quests- which isn’t exactly a better way to bond with someone versus actually talking to and hanging out with them- and he even said that they spent a lot of time together, plus they go to the same school. Which means Percy only sees Annabeth two months out of the full year but sees Rachel all year round. After The Last Olympian, Percy and Annabeth have known each other for four years. Two months of four years is eight months total. Percy and Rachel have known each other for two years. Every month (plus every single day at school) plus sometimes in the summer is about twenty-four months. That’s triple the time Percy and Annabeth spent with each other, so they obviously know each other better. Another thought from Percy is “I can't pretend I hadn't thought about Rachel. She was so much easier to be around than...well, than some other girls I knew. I didn't have to work hard, or watch what I said, or rack my brain trying to figure out what she was thinking. Rachel didn't hide much. She let you know how she felt.” That alone should be a huge sign that Percy likes Rachel more than Annabeth. He’s more comfortable around her and he’s scared of Annabeth. You shouldn’t be scared of your partner, that’s a clear sign that something is wrong (aka a toxic relationship). If someone has to ‘work hard’ aka stress themself or ‘watch what they say’ around someone, they are obviously not comfortable around them. Percy even states that Rachel is easier to talk to than Annabeth, and he likes talking to Rachel more.
3. Rachel isn’t possessive. The moment Rachel found out that Annabeth liked Percy, she let her have him, cause she (unlike Annabeth) didn’t care about what she wanted, she cared about what Percy wanted and his own happiness. Rachel didn’t disallow Percy to have other female friends and allowed him to do what he wanted, and she didn’t insult and hate on Annabeth just for liking Percy (and yet the fandom roots for Annabeth, the rude, prejudiced one?).
4. Perachel wasn’t rushed or forced. Percy and Annabeth were just the 'male lead and female lead get together' that was predicted to happen since the moment they saw each other, so their entire relationship was just those two being forced together by both Riordan and the fandom. It was too obvious that it was going to happen, so nothing that happened between them before they became an official couple really mattered since everyone knew that they were going to get together anyways. There was no real tension since everyone knew what was going to happen in the end. As for Rachel, she was a sudden twist that wasn't really expected. She met Percy at the Hoover Dam, helped him despite not knowing or believing him, and then they went to school with each other, helped each other on quests, and grew feelings for each other. Percy and Rachel have a lot of chemistry- way more than Percy and Annabeth- and their relationship didn't happen too fast. In The Mark of Athena, it was said that Annabeth had a crush on Percy since she first knew him. I mean- gaining a crush on someone at twelve years old? That doesn't mean anything. It's just a flimsy middle school crush. Percy and Rachel, though, met each other in The Titan’s Curse- when they were fourteen- and started gaining feelings for each other in The Battle of the Labyrinth- when they were fifteen. Fifteen year-olds can definitely start gaining feelings that aren't just sexual attraction and flimsy crushes, so Percy and Rachel's relationship is a lot more plausible than Percy and Annabeth's. Besides, Percy and Rachel's relationship was a more relaxed 'going with the flow' type of relationship that seemed to naturally flow off the pages while Percy and Annabeth's was too forced with too many forced scenes and moments. Percy and Rachel's relationship seemed a lot more natural and content.
5. Percy and Rachel aren’t opposites. Despite the popular saying ‘Opposites attract’, opposites don’t attract, opposites cancel each other out. Besides, that saying is similar to the saying ‘Your other/better half’, but people don’t have a ‘better half’ that needs to ‘complete them’. The thing between similars and opposites is that people who are too opposite will become enemies (like Percy and Annabeth) but people who are too similar will also become enemies (like Percy and Thalia or Percy and Jason), so people have to find someone who’s in between. Percy and Rachel are just like that. They share similar personality traits, like the same things, and would be able to agree on most things while Percy and Annabeth would realistically argue about everything. Besides, y’all can’t act like the artistic painter mortal and the son of Poseidon skater-boy isn’t a cute-ass concept.
6. It’s not just fan love. Honestly, it seems like Riordan was going to make Perachel happen but after seeing how much hate it got, changed his mind to Percabeth (which is why he made Rachel become the Oracle of Delphi and randomly made up the rule that the Oracle can’t date out of nowhere without any reasoning behind it). I mean- did any of you notice that all romantic Percabeth moments only happened after The Titan’s Curse and after Rachel was introduced? Perachel was actually introduced first, not Percabeth. It would explain why Riordan randomly added in a bunch of unrealistic Percabeth scenarios that were on the brink of cringey (Percy seeing Annabeth in the River Styx and not his mom or Grover, Percy only remembering Annabeth and not his mom, Percy and Annabeth falling into Tartarus- which wasn’t that bad as the fans make it, by the way, they over-exaggerated that a lot- Percy turning down immortality only for Annabeth and not his mom, life, friends, etc.) Percabeth came out too forced because Riordan was only writing what the fans wanted. And the fact that the toxic Percabeth fans who hate on, insult, curse, yell at, or even threaten anyone who so much as says ‘Perachel’ take up the majority of the fandom further proves this. It’s fine to think that someone’s opinion sucks and is absolutely repulsive, but hating them because of it? That just makes you the asshole.
Perachel is actually a really great and healthy relationship and the fandom should stop hating on it just because others told them to or because it ‘got in the way of Percabeth’. You can multi-ship, you know, and you can also stop being a toxic person who hates on people for what they like just like homophobes do.
#perachel#perachel isn't bad stop acting like it is#percabeth is toxic#percy jackson#annabeth chase#rachel dare#rachel elizabeth dare#stop the rachel hate
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Timeless (HP & HOO crossover x reader)
Synopsis: What would you say if I told you that Hogwarts and Camp Half-Blood are not so far apart? Yeah, Gale and Y/n would also say this is crazy. But these two girls are about to discover that even though they are far apart, the magic that surrounds them is the same. After all, what do a time travel, a fearful prophecy and a Titan about to resurrect, have in common? Certainly more than you can imagine.
Paring: Apollo x reader
Warnings: None, I guess.
Reader: Percy's step sister! reader
Word count: 1.7k
A / N: escreve o que quiser (notas da autora)
September 2010, New York - USA
Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t cry like a baby when she saw Argo II return to Camp Half-Blood. She had been forbidden to help in the battle against the giants, but she was nevertheless not full at Camp. After the near invasion of Camp Jupiter and Reyna's visit, things got messed up there.
But the best part of the return of the other demigods was seeing Percy again. He looked extremely exhausted, but happy to be back in one piece. Y/n hugged him for so long that Percy almost fell asleep in her arms.
The boy was welcomed with all the frenzy he deserved, entitled to a hearty banquet and a visit from his father, along with a very tearful Sally and a relieved Paul.
Tyson had been absolutely thrilled to see his older brother talking to his friends by the fire, which glowed high and yellow, mirroring the emotion of the half-bloods.
Despite being as happy as the others, and maybe even more so, Y/n retired a little earlier that night. She didn't walk long before her absence was noticed.
‘Mingling with the shadows? I thought this was my own thing.” The girl smiled at Nico di Angelo, who walked over to her with his hands in the pockets of his aviator jacket, which was still too big for him.
“I'm going to sleep, Nico.” She explained, continuing her way to Cabin 3. “It was a day full of emotions, I'm tired.”
Nico nodded, walking beside her. Y/n always found it fun to be the same size as Nico, but now she realized that he was a few inches taller than she was.
“Are you okay?” she asked, bringing up the subject.
“I think so.” Nico replied, looking surprised by his own conclusion. “Maybe things get better for me from now on.”
“I'm sure it will.” Y/n opened an encouraging smile. Because he was the son of Hades, Nico suffered more than all the other demigods, which worried the girl. She hadn't seen him since the war of the Titans, but she talked to Percy during her mission and discovered things she didn't want to discover.
She looked at Nico. For the first time in his life, his face looked serene, as if his problems were gone. Y/n realized that it would be better not to go into details about the problems he went through. She did not want to end his joy.
“Di Angelo!” someone called, running up to them. Y/n turned to find Will Solace smiling like a ray of sunshine. “Hi Y/n!”
“Will.” She smiled. When looking at Nico, she noticed a pink tint on his cheeks and held her laugh. “Can you take care of Nico for me? I need to go to sleep but he doesn't want to leave.”
Will smiled, realizing what she meant. Nico looked at her with anger and indignation, but he didn't seem against the idea.
“Certainly.” The blonde took a step forward. “Have a good night!”
“You too.” She raised an eyebrow at Nico and walked back to her cabin.
She was still smiling when she passed Hecate's cabin, which looked darker than ever. Her smile wilted. She had always been a little afraid of the goddess's children since she found herself a half-blood and moved to camp. But that night, something seemed comforting in the hideous darkness of the cabin. Unable to contain the impulse that occurred to her, Y/n went up on the porch and went through the open door. None of the goddess's children were there, they were probably still at the stake celebrating, they always loved a good party.
Y/n didn't know exactly what she expected to find inside, but she certainly wasn't ready for what she saw. She had never entered the cabin since she had never been invited and it didn't feel right to enter without an invitation like she did now. But what she found was an absolute void. No bunk beds, bathroom, closet or chest. Nothing for the basic comfort of teenagers. All that was inside was a torch on the floor with a brown leather-bound notebook beside it.
“Take it” A whisper said, and Y/n knelt down to better analyze the notebook.
“Who...?” She started the question, but knew at the time that she had no need to finish it. Hecate was there. “Are you hiding in the shadows?”
There was a harsh laugh, but Y/n couldn't tell where it came from. It was as if the goddess moved in every particle of air around her.
“I heard that Poseidon's children were mocking, but seeing that feat face to face is much more fun. Ares definitely didn't say enough about it.”
“I don't think he has any reason to boast about it.” She commented, but her body was tense. Something about the goddess made her feel that bad things would happen any second.
“Take the notebook.” She asked, seeming to feel the girl's tension. “Take it and bring my girl back.”
“What does that mean?” Y/n asked, but never got an answer.
After several minutes, she finally let herself be overcome by curiosity, put the notebook under her arm and ran out of the cabin.
Y/n spent a few days without touching the notebook, which was comfortably resting on the small table in her cabin. Percy asked several times what the notebook was and why Y/n didn't move it, but the girl always answered the same thing. "It's just a silly notebook." She was afraid to open it and end up triggering something she couldn't control.
Percy and the others had just returned from a massacre battle with irreparable losses, she didn't want to leave anyone alarmed by something as stupid as a leather notebook.
Y/n tried to distract herself. She would swim in the lake, duel with Percy in the arena, ask Tyson to teach her something in the forges, help Chiron with pending camp, talk about the biggest zucchinis with Rachel, encourage Annabeth to talk nonstop about architecture, sometimes make her repeat everything he had said in Greek, but nothing seemed to get her thoughts out of the notebook. Instead of being distracted, she got some scars from the duels, burns from the forges and throbbing ears, but nothing erased the notebook.
Tired of trying, Y/n returned to the cabin and spent several minutes looking at the problem. She would get up a few times, making a move to pick it up, but soon she would go back to sitting on bed. When she finally thought she would be brave enough to end the trip, someone knocked on the door.
Changing her course, Y/n opened the door to the blond, smug figure.
Y/n and Apollo had spent a lot of time together a few months before, not that any of them had a chance to do the opposite. He had helped her save the Camp when everyone seemed too busy saving the world. Now she was no longer able to get rid of the sun god, who suddenly appeared in her cabin. At least now he had learned to knock on the door before entering.
“Good afternoon, beautiful lady.” He smiled, breaking into the cottage before Y/n had a chance to expel him. “What do you do locked in that cabin?”
“Apollo, seriously, now is not the best time.”
“Every hour is the best time for Apollo!” He smiled at her and Y/n found herself unable to say no to him. The god had that effect on her, but she couldn't explain why. She just went back to bed and sighed.
“What happened, Sunshine?” he asked, now more serious.
Y/n pointed to the notebook, like a child pointing out the bully who was mistreating her. Pausing to think, it was almost the same.
Apollo's gaze followed Y/n 's finger until it stopped at the Hecate symbol on the cover of the notebook, and he froze.
“What's it?”
“That notebook.” He got up and picked up it, playing with it in his hands. “I saw Hecate with another of his once many years ago. I asked her what they were, but she cast a spell on me that prevented me from speaking for two months. Where did you find it?”
“I found him at her cabin.” The girl admitted, unable to lie to the closest friend she had at the camp until that moment. “I heard Hecate ask me to take him away. I didn't understand what she expects me to do.”
“Write.” He suggested, after long minutes of silence.
“I’m sorry?” Y/n looked at him, confused. “What if something bad happens, Apollo? I don't know if I want to find out.”
The god smiled gently, taking the book to the girl and handing it over, along with a blue ballpoint pen. Y/n hesitated for a few seconds before picking up the pen and opening the notebook. But she didn't do much more than that, as the words “Owned by G. J. W.” they magically appeared on the first leaf, in a strange black ink.
Y/n looked at Apollo for help, but he just shrugged and encouraged her to write something below. "G. J. W.? This notebook is mine, and my name has none of those letters!”
Before she had a chance to tell Apollo how ridiculous it was, the notebook replied.
G: "Who are you?"
Y: “Y/n Y/l/n, are you?”
G: "Gale Wright"
Y: “How the hell am I talking to you through my notebook? Where you are from?"
G: “England. I'm a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, how about you? What school of magic do you belong to? ”
Y: "I'm not going to any magic school, I'm from New York, there's no such thing here!"
G: "I thought the United States school of magic was Ilvermorny"
Y: "I am not a witch!"
G: "Oh by Merlin, are you a muggle?"
Y: "Look, I may not be a witch but you don't have to curse me!"
G: “Muggle is a term for non-wizards ... But if you are not a witch, how can you talk to me? This notebook is bewitched, only those who have contact with magic could see it ”
Y: "I didn't know that the notebook was enchanted until now ... I didn't even know about the existence of a school of magic, wizards, yes, now schools? No, things are very different here"
G: "Different how?"
Y: "I am a camper at Camp Half-Blood"
G: "And what would that be?"
Y: "Well, a camp for demigods, of course!"
Y/n waited, but nothing else happened. She looked up at Apollo, who looked as upset as she was.
“School of Magic and Witchcraft of... Hogwarts?” She asked, hoping that Apollo would say something to her.
“I've heard of that school. Hecate loves to talk about how she has an entire chain of schools that teach children to do what she does. She is very proud of it.” He explained, taking the notebook from Y/n and examining the last conversation. “I just didn't think it was real at all. All the gods think it's Hecate's invention, but no one has ever tried to prove it.”
“Well, I think we just did that.” Y/n joked, but was far from feeling the fun of the situation, because, there in front of her, there was a problem. Perhaps a much bigger problem than she imagined.
#harry potter#percy jackson#fanfic#apollo x reader#harry potter imagine#percy jackson imagine#apollo#nico di angelo#will solace#tyson the cyclops#camp half blood#hogwarts
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"Fellas, Is It Gay to Perform Necromancy on Your Ex-Crush?" - Valgrace (1/2)
Summary: Nico decides to help Leo reach out to Jason.
Notes: This is a 2-part story because I made it too long lol. Also it's technically valgrace but it features nico & leo more (for this first chapter).
Read on AO3
The firelight flickers over Leo’s features as he sticks his marshmallow stick into it. Despite the warm company of flames, goosebumps still rise against his bare arms as a gust of wind pushes through the evening air.
He sighs. Piper’s been gone for too long, and he’s getting lonely on his own. He could easily move across to the other side of the amphitheater and sit with his siblings, but right now, Leo really just wants to be with his best friend. He hasn’t seen her in a long while and it’s been nice catching up with her.
The marshmallow’s lightness gives way to darkness as it chars in the fire. Leo considers bringing it closer again, but he figures it might be better to let it continue roasting. He likes the taste of burnt marshmallows.
So did Jason, Leo thinks wistfully. Then he scolds himself for even thinking about the late demigod.
It’s been months since he’s has died. Leo should be over it by now; he should have moved past it. But he hasn’t.
It’s hard to forget when every time he thinks about Jason, he can only remember the secrets he kept from him.
Leo scrubs a tired hand across his face. He needs to stop thinking about him. Jason’s in the past, and in front of Leo is only the future. He can’t keep himself tied to what could have been, but instead focus his attention on what can be.
Besides, Nico’s already sent in those holograms that Leo made Jason while he was trying to find his way back to the real world. That alone has released the demigod of some of his guilt; at least Jason’s going to finally know how he feels.
But it’s not enough. Leo needs to talk to Jason. He needs to let go of him for once and for all.
The marshmallow in the fire blazes. Its whiteness bubbles and boils in the flames, then hardens into black crust. Leo almost laughs. How metaphorical.
The crunch of footsteps snaps the demigod’s attention, and he turns to the sound of it. Expecting it to be Piper, Leo offers a false grin to the approacher and gears up a joke to exclaim. Upon closer inspection, however, his eyebrows jump in surprise and anxiety - as well as a little bewilderment - hum in his blood.
A teenage demigod stalks towards him, his dark, feathery hair fluttering in the cool air. Silver tips gleam in the firelight at the ends of it. Abysmal obsidian eyes bear into Leo’s own, and a knowing, embarrassed smile cracks against the hero’s face.
“Nico,” Leo murmurs into the quiet. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he responds. His deep, glass-like voice resonates in the air and pierces into Leo’s ears. “Mind if I sit?”
Leo scoots over to make room for him, offering a confused but nonetheless welcoming look. “Sure. Cool hair, by the way.”
Nico smiles. “Thanks. I did it after a mental breakdown.”
“Sounds ideal.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Oh.”
After an uncomfortable pause, in which Leo turns back to his marshmallow in embarrassment and Nico picks on his jeans, the son of Hephaestus asks, “What brings you here?”
“I live at camp,” the demigod says blandly.
Leo rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant.”
Nico’s dark eyes glimmer with amusement. Despite Leo’s melancholic state just seconds before, a flutter of relief overcomes his heart. He and Nico haven’t talked much since he’s gotten back, but he’s glad to see that the demigod looks a lot more… comfortable here, for lack of a better word. He looks like he’s found his place.
“I know,” Nico says. “I’m actually here to talk to you.”
Leo nods. He’s been expecting this. “About the holograms I asked you to send Jason?”
The other demigod shrugs. “I’m a curious person. I’m just wondering what’s up with that. Totally fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though. But, you know, seeing how you asked me to travel to the Underworld specifically just to do that… Can’t help but be a little anxious about whatever it is that I gave him.”
Leo nods again, but this time a trickle of anxiety runs down his back. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
“I don’t mind talking about it,” he says. Leo turns his gaze to Nico and offers him a pointed stare. “Besides, I think more than anyone, you might know what I’m talking about.”
If Nico understands what he means, he doesn’t show it. He remains still and patient, unsurprised, as if he’s expecting whatever Leo’s about to say before he even says it.
The son of Hephaestus sighs. He pulls his marshmallow stick back from the fire, but he doesn’t make a move to take the sweet substance off. His mind wanders back to so many nights ago, when he, Jason, and Piper had been sitting in this exact place, telling each other scary campfire stories and laughing when any of them cracked a joke.
It’s amazing how much has changed within a year.
“Listen, Nico,” Leo begins, his voice strangling itself, “I just want to start by saying that… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you on the ship. I wish I could have been a better person to you then. But I guess I was dealing with my own stuff, and I was kinda blinded by my own issues to see that others around me were having troubles too. So I’m sorry about being inconsiderate to you.”
Nico waves his hand by way of dismissing the apology. “It’s fine. I understand that. My problems didn’t need to be of your concern, and I’m sure there were things that I could have helped you with that I hadn’t. Don’t feel sorry, Leo. You were dealing with your own issues.”
Leo shakes his head. “But it’s… I…” He groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s more than just me being sorry. I just wish I’d let you know you weren’t entirely alone. In terms of being, like, confused about your… identity, I mean.” His heart flutters in his chest as he turns again to Nico, anticipating the demigod’s reaction to his admittance. He’s not sure if he’s come off as direct as he needs to be.
Nico frowns. “You mean, like, me being gay? What does that have to do with this?” he asks defensively.
Leo notes the way his voice hitches at the word “gay,” like he’s still trying to taste the way it feels around his mouth. Nico shifts the tiniest bit away from him, as if he’s fleeing from judgment. The sight of it creates a crack against Leo’s heart; he doesn’t want Nico to feel like he’s being criticized.
“What I’m trying to say,” Leo says in what he hopes is a calming voice, “is that… I know what it was like. I mean, I don’t know what it was like to be you specifically, but I get that anxiety over your sexuality. I… I went through something similar.”
For a moment, it seems as though Nico doesn’t fully understand. His eyebrows curve into the center as he absorbs Leo’s words. Confusion sparks against his eyes. But after a moment - a moment in which Leo’s eyes bear deeper into Nico’s, begging him to comprehend - understanding flashes against the son of Hades’ features. “Oh,” he murmurs. “So… Are you saying…”
Leo nods. “I’m… queer. I know you and I haven’t had the same experiences with our sexualities, or even in general, but just know that… I wish I could have done more to reach out to you.” He shrugs. “Maybe we could have helped each other out.”
Nico offers a hesitant smile. “Yeah. I guess so. Wish I’d known, too. But… I’m honored you told me. Admitting this kind of stuff can take a lot of courage, as I’m sure you know. I’m glad you’ve come to some kind of conclusion about yourself.”
“You too, man,” Leo says. “I’m glad that you’ve found a way to move on from your fears of yourself. I’m not sure where you stand in terms of your confidence, but just know that we’re all proud of you. We all support you.”
Nico’s smile widens, just a bit, and that’s enough to make Leo’s heart skip a beat. He’s never seen Nico look so sure of himself, but the sight of it makes Leo excited, too. It gives him hope that maybe someday, he’ll be able to reach that level of assurance.
Not today. But someday.
Nico rolls his eyes. “Enough of this cheesy stuff. What does this have to do with those holograms?”
Leo shifts in his seat, contemplating what to say and how to say it. His chest thrums with a sudden burst of anxiety at the very prospect of admitting to Nico something that took him so long to do to himself. How will Nico even take the news? Would he make fun of Leo? Would he tell him Leo’s feelings are a mere joke?
Will he understand?
Leo’s chest expands as he takes a deep breath. He knows he’ll feel better when he tells someone about why he’s done what he’s done. He’s kept this in for too long.
The son of Hephaestus plays with his fingers in his lap, if only to get a distraction from the world around him. “I… I really… I liked Jason,” he murmurs. “I spent a lot of time pining for him. But I also spent a lot of time hating myself for liking him.”
Nico’s eyebrows lower and he offers a considerate, empathetic nod. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
Leo turns his gaze to the son of Hades. Sincerity sparkles in Nico’s eyes, and an urging look covers his features. Leo’s anxiety lulls itself as he sees the understanding; at least the son of Hades isn’t judging him.
“Yeah,” Leo murmurs, “so that happened. It’s kind of why I decided to date Calypso. I just wanted to… forget about my feelings for him, you know? But that wasn’t fair to her or me, because in a way I kind of used her. We’re broken up now, though, which I think is better for both of us. Still good friends.”
Nico offers a polite nod.
“Anyway,” continues Leo, “I was getting tired of keeping that secret in. So you know how I sent that hologram to you?” When Nico nods again, Leo takes that as a sign to go on. “Yeah, so I tried doing something similar to Jason. Except for him, I kind of just kept all those holograms for myself. They were mostly used for therapeutic purposes, just so I could get a better understanding of myself.” Leo sighs and runs a shaky hand through his hair. His hollow chest thrums with guilt at the thought of the holograms; they contained so many secrets that he couldn’t give up, not even to the person they were intended to be given to. “I meant to give it to Jason,” he promises, “but he…”
In a quick second, memories of Jason sear Leo’s mind. His gleaming hair, his awkward smile. The way his laugh would echo around Leo and envelop him in happiness.
He was perfect. He was everything Leo wished he could be.
He was everything Leo wished he could have.
Leo bites his bottom lip. A surge of hot tears crash against his eyes, and it takes all his strength to prevent them from pouring out.
Nico shifts his body so that he’s closer to Leo. Not close enough to make either of them uncomfortable, but enough so that Leo knows he’s not alone. “It’s okay,” he whispers. “I get it now.”
Leo nods. Despite his efforts to keep his emotions in check, a tear still manages to slip out. It flashes in the orange firelight and drips from his face, bursting onto the green grass below.
Through a choked voice, he whispers, “I just… needed him to have those holograms. I needed him to know the truth. I didn’t want him to leave this world without… without knowing that there was someone who loved him in that way.”
“You needed to let go of your ghost,” Nico murmurs in understanding. “You needed to move on.”
Leo nods.
“Did it work, at least?” asks Nico. “Do you feel better now that you’ve given it to him?”
The son of Hephaestus opens his mouth to speak, but silence strangles his voice. Taking a deep breath, he whispers, “It’s not enough. I need… I need more. I need to actually confront him.”
Leo turns his head to Nico, a pleading look in his eyes. He hopes Nico understands what he’s asking.
The child of Hades’ eyes widen in surprise. “Are you asking me to take you to the Underworld?” he asks. “Look, Leo, I’m not sure-”
Leo shakes his head and waves his hands dismissively. “No, no, I’m too exhausted for adventures. I just want some time without all that excitement. But I just… I’m wondering if maybe there’s a way that I can contact him. And knowing that you’re a ghost whisperer…”
Nico’s eyes darken in the firelight. A cold, icy film covers them, and he fixes Leo with a stern look. “I can’t bring him back, Leo,” he says. “That’s not fair.”
Leo raises his palms defensively. “Hey, no, that’s not-”
“I’m not finished, though,” says Nico. An air of hesitance lingers in his words, and when he turns his dark eyes away from Leo, the latter’s heart skips a beat in anticipation. Excitement and anxiety roar in Leo’s ears. Will he agree to help?
Nico turns his face into the firelight, but he looks right through it. His mind wanders to some other place, some other world where Leo can’t reach him. The son of Hades’ olive fingers twitch in the glow of the flames.
Nico looks around, and as he does so, the silver tips of his hair flash in the firelight. A stern, anxious look pulls on his features.
“What is it?” Leo asks. “What were you going to say?”
Nico turns back to him. His dark eyes burn brightly in the firelight, flaming with excitement. In a hushed, hurried voice, he whispers, “Meet me in the woods tonight, right after the sing-along. Don’t worry about curfew, because I can shadow travel the two of us out. Don’t tell anyone you’re going there. I have a plan to help you.”
At Nico’s words, a gust of wind brushes between the two and chills Leo down to his core. His skin prickles with goosebumps once more, but he’s not sure if that’s because of the chilly air or because of Nico.
With one final skeptical look, the son of Hades stands to leave. But before he can, Leo asks, “Wait, what are you doing? What am I going to walk into?”
Nico pauses in his steps. His body freezes and he goes rigid, almost as if Leo’s question has shocked him.
Then he turns and, in the flicker of the firelight, a ghost of a smile haunts his lips. “You deserve to see him one last time, Leo. And you need to learn to let him go, because the more you keep holding onto his memory… the more you become a ghost of yourself. I can’t bear to see another friend go. Consider this a gift from me to you.” His hand lingers at his side, almost as if reaching for a sword that isn’t there. “Consider this a gift from one friend to another. That is, if you consider us friends.”
A ripple of surprise thrums in Leo’s blood. If there’s anything he didn’t expect tonight, it was to hear that Nico di Angelo considered him a friend.
But nonetheless, a relieved, grateful smile gleams against Leo’s mouth.
“Friends,” he promises. “I owe you one.”
Nico laughs. “Yeah, you do. I’ll see you in a bit.”
And with that, the demigod rushes off into the darkness, leaving Leo alone with only the flames for company.
#my writing#valgrace#nico di angelo#leo valdez#jason grace#riordanverse#the burning maze spoiler#tbm spoiler#bm spoiler#burning maze spoiler#valgrace fanfic#valgrace fic#nico di angelo fanfic#nico di angelo fic#leo valdez fanfic#leo valdez fic#riordanverse fanfic#riordanverse fic#trials of apollo#toa#heroes of olympus#hoo#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians
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i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice
FROM THE PETALS COLLECTION
[pairing] :: jungkook x fem!reader
[genre] :: percy jackson au + angst
[word count] :: 7.3k
[note] :: attempted a son of hades!jungkook storyline. vaguely inspired by nico di angelo’s character arc if you’ve read the books (because coughs well this use to be an unpublished nico di angelo fanfic don’t at me LMAO), but you don’t need to remember the character slash be an expert in the story to read this fic! Also this is a friends to lovers fic hidden behind my attempt to write a story of grief. pls enjoy!
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When Jungkook is fifteen years old, he arrives at Camp Half Blood with pennies in his pockets, one Kim Taehyung on his back, and monsters on his tail. There are all kinds of creatures that have been following him for weeks—some with wings, some with clubs, but all with the intent of murder in their eyes as they chase Jungkook up the hill. Taehyung had warned him about this happening, that starting this journey would attract lots of unwanted attention from lots of dangerous half-breed monsters. Something to do with Jungkook’s scent, whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.
In the beginning, Jungkook hadn’t known what to expect, hadn’t known what Taehyung meant by strange creatures and a camp just for him. Even right now, as he is running as quickly as his legs can take him with his lungs feeling like it’s about to burst—he doesn’t really understand.
What he does understand is that he has been alone his entire life. With a childhood filled with no father and a frightful mother, Jungkook has grown up spending time by himself in the company of his own thoughts and emotions. With such a strange (and lacking) family dynamic, it exposed him to lots of bullying and snide comments from peers, most commonly seen during school or walks home. The first half of Jungkook’s childhood is defined by this—by the teasing for being different, for failing classes, for being awkward and shy, for never knowing his place. The second half of Jungkook’s childhood is filled with sleeping on the streets, with stealing food at convenience stores, on how he’s been truly alone since he was thirteen.
That is, until Kim Taehyung corners him at the midnight strike of his fifteenth birthday—which leads the two of them to this current moment.
Jungkook doesn’t understand much right now. All he knows is that he needs to run.
As Jungkook approaches the top of the hill, he sees a group of people surrounding an archway. They’re all bundled up in gears of shields and swords, and each of them turn towards the boys as the monster thudding grows louder and Jungkook’s calls become more clear.
Half of the group near the archway break off, immediately making their way towards Jungkook and Taehyung. There are a few questions thrown here and there, before the main objective is just to make sure the boys get to safety. Taehyung’s weight gets distributed between Jungkook and another person, and together the bigger group makes their way across the hill. They cross a tall pine tree that Jungkook hardly notices, because he’s completely out of breath, wounded across his entire body, with legs that feel like jello.
Taehyung’s weight shifts entirely to the other person as Jungkook trips and falls to his knees. Quickly, Jungkook whirls around so his butt and his arms are on the ground. With his eyes directed towards the hill, his heart crawls up his throat as he sees the monsters making their way up towards him. His body moves before his mind does, his arms moving him closer towards the archway.
Someone settles themselves right behind him. “Woah, hey.” Your voice is soft, your hand between his shoulders is comforting. “You’re okay, you’re safe now.”
“B-But!” Jungkook stammers, pointing shakily towards the creatures now growing closer and closer to everyone. “Those monsters! They’re coming!”
As soon as he says that, the monsters stop in their path, right next to the pine tree from earlier. Their collection of beady eyes glare angrily down at Jungkook, their screams are hollow cries that press painfully against his ears. This conveyance of frustration continues on for a few seconds, before one by one the monsters turn around and make their way back down the mountain.
Jungkook’s breathing is frantic, along with his heart rate, as he watches the creatures disappear below the dip. “W-What the hell…?”
You angle your head toward in order for Jungkook to look at you—you wear an expression of softness, of understanding, and Jungkook momentarily sees stars.
That, however, could have also been from the excess oxygen in him, and the fact that one of those creatures had landed a swipe to his head.
You gesture to the pine tree. “You see that tree? That’s Thalia Grace’s tree—a long time ago, she and some of her friends were trying to get here, and Thalia sacrificed herself to ensure her friends could be safe. She was a daughter of Zeus, so he turned her into a tree that would protect the camp. Monsters just like those can’t get in anymore.”
Jungkook feels the adrenaline fading, along with his ability to follow conversations. Daughter of Zeus? Like, Zeus from those Greek mythologies? The camp? Had this been the place Taehyung told him about?
It’s all too much to keep up with. Jungkook faints before he can ask his question, in which the last thing he sees is your eyes, concerned and twinkling. He passes the thudding in his heart off as pure and utter exhaustion.
Jungkook wakes up on top of a white hospital bed a few hours later, head swimming and Taehyung situated at the foot. He offers a cup of something called ambrosia that immediately clears the headache. “Woah, what the fuck?” He asks, holding the cup away from him and staring at it with wide eyes. He looks over at Taehyung. “What is this? My headache went away as soon as I drank this. Also, it tastes like banana milk. Is this a dream?” Without waiting for an answer, Jungkook leans back and takes in his surroundings. He looks to be an infirmary, beds with white sheets along the walls and light shining in through the windows. There’s a few other people lingering about, hovering over occupied beds.
“Jungkook.” Taehyung’s soft voice pulls his attention back. “We’re in Camp Half Blood. You brought us here.” Taehyung’s smile is sad, but confident. “You brought me back, even though it was my mission to bring you here. Thanks.”
Jungkook stares. “So… you weren’t lying about the camp. T-This is all real?”
It is then that Taehyung explains everything to Jungkook. Explains that the Greek gods Jungkook learned about in class are real, and that sometimes they come down from Mount Olympus to mingle with mortals—which is where their demigod children come from. Demigods are part god, and therefore have enhanced physical ability as well as some level of control or skill over the realm of their godly parent. Taehyung goes over this information as slowly and as calmly as possible, but Jungkook still has trouble processing the information. In a way, it makes sense that Jungkook would be in this position. He’s always known he was different, always felt like he could never fully belong in the mortal world he spent so long occupying. He just could never label his feelings with a concrete answer.
Until now, that is.
Jungkook decides to ask Taehyung one more question. “Why couldn’t you explain any of this to me on the way over?”
Taehyung seems to be choosing his next words carefully. “As we kept going, you were attracting more monsters. That’s something that normally doesn’t happen, unless the demigod the creatures are tracking is one that’s insanely powerful. Like, a demigod that’s born from the Big Three—Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades. I read accounts of what happened to us happening to other kids that were born from any one of those three gods. I figured that the less you knew, the better. A demigod who doesn’t know they’re a demigod is a much less serious threat—your scent isn’t as strong as it could be if you know about who you are.”
Jungkook ponders this. “So my dad could be Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades?” He’s definitely heard of those gods. The ruler of all gods, and his two brothers.
Taehyung presses his lips together, leaning forward in his seat so his forearms rest on his knees. “Maybe,” He says. “It’s pretty rare, though, so I don’t want to give you an answer only for it to not be true. Only time will tell.” He must see the lost, the confused, the anxious look on Jungkook’s face, because Taehyung takes a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Hey, JK, cheer up.” The usage of his nickname makes the corner of Jungkook’s lips turn up. “While we wait for your dad to claim you, you can stay with me in my father’s cabin. My dad is Hermes. He’s a patron to travelers, so all campers who come here are welcomed until they’re claimed by their godly parents.”
Jungkook can only manage a nod at this. He still has many questions, still does not fully understand. With what Taehyung is telling him, Jungkook is not even sure he will belong here, or if he will be ostracized once again for being different amongst the different.
But he trusts Taehyung—so he’ll follow Taehyung.
.
Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for a week before Taehyung is called for another assignment. It’s due to a prophecy given by the Oracle who lives on the campgrounds—the figure grants quests to campers to undergo a series of dangerous adventures in order to accomplish something for the long term benefit of demigods, the human race, the Greek gods themselves, anything of the sort.
In the case of Taehyung, he is chosen by fellow camper Kim Namjoon to join him in and travel west and retrieve stolen items from a museum collection. It seems like an easy quest. At least, that’s what Jungkook is told.
Kim Namjoon is a son of Athena, someone whom Jungkook met a day into his arrival at Camp Half Blood—friendly and smart and answers Jungkook’s questions about mythology with ease. It had been good when Jungkook first met the former, because he had many questions, some of which couldn’t be answered by Taehyung. Namjoon is someone that Jungkook immediately grows a fondness and admiration for—only leaving him that much more confident that the quest will go smoothly.
“You guys will be okay… right?” Jungkook asks Namjoon, as the latter is shouldering his backpack. He’s not the only person seeing Namjoon and Taehyung off on their quest, but Jungkook had been one of the first people to show up. After all, when your only friend is leaving on an adventure, it tends to bring in the worry and the anxiety. “And you’ll watch Taehyung, won’t you?”
“Of course I will,” Namjoon reassures, tight smile across his lips but he distracts Jungkook with a hand on his shoulder. “Taehyung and I have been doing quests together for a few years. We got each other’s back.”
Taehyung slides in next to Namjoon, glancing over at Jungkook with all the care in the world in his eyes. “Hey JK, just promise me you’ll do your best to be comfortable here, okay? Keep trying out those different skills we were working on, okay? Your dad will claim you, I’m sure of it.”
Jungkook looks down at his fingers, wringing the hands together. “I-I’ll try my best.”
Namjoon and Taehyung exchange glances, partaking in a silent language exchange, before Taehyung looks back at Jungkook. “I know someone who can help.”
Taehyung leaves Namjoon with his backpack before stepping away from the group, making his way down the hill back towards the camp grounds. Jungkook follows shortly behind. It’s still early in the morning, most campers are inside their cabins sleeping away the mist, but there’s a small group of campers near the archery grounds. There’s some laughter as a new person steps in to ready the bow and arrow. Jungkook watches as this new archer aims as the target, pulls back the bow, and—!
“Y/N!” Taehyung calls.
The person at the archery station flinches, sending the arrow a few centimeters away from the center of the target. You whirl around, and Jungkook’s stomach drops because it’s you—the person who helped him when he more or less crashed into Camp Half Blood.
You gape, still holding the bow in your arms as your eyes narrow into a glare as you continue to stare straight at Taehyung. “Kim Taehyung! Where are your manners!” You call out. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a quest now?”
Taehyung slings an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “I need to borrow you for a second, it’s important.”
You seem to be saying something to one of your friends, because you hand the bow to a friend before walking over to the two boys.
As soon as you reach your destination, you look at Jungkook and give him a bright-eyed smile of recognition—one that brings him back to the first time he met you, when he saw stars. “Hey!” You exclaim. “I remember you, you came in with Taehyung last week. You looked like you had been through a lot—are you feeling better now?”
“I-uh…” Jungkook tries to form words.
“He had some ambrosia, he’s fine,” Taehyung cuts in kindly, sending Jungkook a look he can’t decipher. Taehyung goes on a momentarily rant, explaining that Jungkook would just need someone to help him further adjust to life at camp, as well as help him figure out who his godly parent was.
Taehyung says a lot of words, but Jungkook isn’t entirely paying attention. His gaze is fixed on you, taking in your easy smile and bright eyes. He can feel his eyes widen and the flush crawl up his cheeks the longer he lets himself look at you—yet, he doesn’t understand what it means. He’s never seen someone like you before, in his years of school and in his years living on the streets.
“So, I just need you to help him out. Hopefully his dad will claim him before we get back.”
“That’s something to look forward to,” You reply, sounding genuinely excited for that. You turn your full attention to Jungkook this time and smile. “Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to finally meet you!”
He takes your hand. Fifteen-years-old, and he wears his emotions in his eyes. “I’m Jungkook.”
.
Jungkook is at Camp Half Blood for three weeks when he starts getting nightmares.
Not only that, but it’s the same kind of nightmare—something horribly realistic and chaotic and messy but so painful that Jungkook finds himself waking up with tears dusting itself in his eyes.
It always starts off the same: Namjoon and Taehyung on their quest. They appear to be in a room of antiques, each boy looking cautiously at the collection around them, with their backs pressed against each other. There is a low hum in his dream, where the voices emit a low frequency and sound like static—like he’s hearing the conversations underwater. Suddenly, a burst comes from above, a shatter of something in the room, a clatter of hollow bangs and clashes, and a yell. His dream always turns blurry after the fight starts, but it always ends the same—Namjoon pulling Taehyung away from a fight. And the latter is badly wounded.
And Jungkook always wakes up at the sight of Taehyung. And it’s the same question that swirls around in his mind, over and over again. Did Taehyung die on the quest?
At first, it’s easy for Jungkook to write off the dream as a dream—nothing more, nothing less. Perhaps his subconscious playing tricks on him, playing around with his fears and turning it into videos to play in his brain. But with each passing night, a voice starts to ring in his mind.
My dear boy. It’s a deep voice, husky and low and full of pitiful sadness, like it can sense the pain that Jungkook is trying to internalize. Don’t you understand? Kim Namjoon let your best friend die.
There’s something about the voice that is familiar, like he’s heard it before.
The voice plays in Jungkook’s mind over and over again, like a record, and it shakes him to the core. The potential of what the voice is and what the voice could mean frightens him, and it shows.
It shows in when Jungkook just outright misses the target with his bow and arrow in the present day. The pair of you are out on the field today, and you’re furrowing your eyebrows together.
“Are you alright?”
Jungkook stares at his arrow, somewhere flung off to the side, before his gaze shifts to you. You’re always so sturdy, so concerned, so worried for him. Besides Taehyung, who else cares so much for his safety and wellbeing—?
He stops, lowering the bow. He wears a serious expression. “Can I tell you a secret?” He whispers.
You furrow your eyebrows at his tone. “Of course. Is something bothering you? I know your father hasn’t claimed you yet, but the gods can be really busy around this time…”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Not that.” He steals himself for speaking the words into reality. “I had a dream that Taehyung died, even though Namjoon promised me nothing would happen to him.” He doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his accusation.
You don’t reply to him at first. You stare at him, eyes conflicted. Jungkook stares back, briefly wondering whether you’ve had the experience of knowing death. He doesn’t voice the question, choosing instead to maintain steady eye contact with your nervous expression.
“Perhaps it was just a dream, Jungkook,” You say carefully. “Namjoon always keeps his promises. He and Taehyung have been working together on quests for years. And Namjoon is the smartest person I’ve ever met. If they ran into a situation Namjoon thought they wouldn’t be able to handle, he wouldn’t even think to risk the lives of the people he’s with. He won’t let you down.” You’re smiling tightly, clearly trying to keep the tension light but Jungkook suddenly finds that his heart is not in the mood.
He wants to believe you. He wants to believe in Namjoon. But he knows what his dreams are. And that voice. These are things he cannot ignore no matter how hard he tries.
But the thing is, his dreams are real—Kim Namjoon does not keep his promise. Jungkook can see this across his face the moment Namjoon returns to camp, alone.
“Not only did they know we were coming,” Namjoon explains quietly to the camp counselors, late in the night, at a meeting spot reserved for higher ups. “They had taken over the museum a few weeks before we showed up. It was an ambush. I… I couldn’t save Taehyung.”
No.
“No!” Jungkook cries out, standing up and making his position known—loitering in the background of the meeting.
Namjoon meets his gaze from across the gap that separates them. “Jungkook?”
Jungkook’s head is spinning, his breath coming out in gasps, as he backs up slowly away from the growing crowd of camp counselors. “Y-You promised me!” He accuses loudly, pointing at Namjoon. “You promised nothing would happen to Taehyung! You lied to me!”
“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Namjoon steps out from amongst the group of counselors, a hand out in front of him as if approaching a frightened animal. “We were overwhelmed. If I could take it back and save him, I would—!”
“Shut up!” Jungkook cries louder, running his hands through his hair. He should have known, should have known that weight in his gut was a warning and not a feeling. The tears in his eyes make it blurry to see anything to understand anything—because Taehyung is dead, along with his kindness and compassion and the safety he brought. “I hate you, I hate all of you!”
Suddenly, there’s a rumble in the ground, a shake in the Earth so intense that a hushed silence falls over the crowd. At once, the ground splits open and a roar of fire explodes up from the pit, threatening to drag in anyone who gets closer. There are screams from the campers, from the counselors, but Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s so angry, so hurt, so lost. He doesn’t hear any of it.
Until he hears your voice. “Jungkook!” You scream across the gap.
Jungkook stills upon hearing you, lowering his arms and opening his eyes. Blinking away tears, he feels his heart rate slow back down to a manageable pace. The split in the ground closes before he looks up. He sees the camp counselors up ahead, equal looks of fear and horror across their eyes.
He turns just enough to see you. You, with your wide eyes, looking confused and upset by what he has just done. And Jungkook feels nothing but disappointment. He has never done anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what it means.
So he runs away. He runs away from Namjoon and this god forsaken camp that he knows will remind him of Taehyung.
He runs away from the whispers from campers, a representation to serve that Jungkook will never truly belong here.
He runs away from you, the only other person he would think to trust from now on. He can’t handle any of this anymore.
.
Two weeks after Jungkook runs away from Camp Half Blood, and a shadow of a figure appears to him in the midst of the evening air. It’s a ghost with a dark twisted smile, who calls himself Min Yoongi—a king in a past life, who now resides in the Underworld as a judge for all souls.
He tells Jungkook that Jungkook is a son of Hades—which explains why he knew about Taehyung’s death, why he split the ground open all those weeks ago. There’s something borderline dangerous about Yoongi’s smile.
Every fiber and nerve in Jungkook’s body is begging him not to trust this ghost. But, of course, Jungkook doesn’t listen. He stopped listening to things a long time ago.
Besides, Yoongi soon makes offers that Jungkook cannot escape from. A way to bring Taehyung back, a way to strike revenge upon Kim Namjoon, a way—!
Jungkook blinks the thoughts away. He had dozed off again, something he’s been doing a lot lately.
“You should sleep,” Yoongi advises, his voice more of a whisper than anything else. There’s a touch of eerie to him, in his paper white skin and gray eyes.
Even though Jungkook doesn’t desire sleep, far from it, he settles with listening to the ghost anyways. So he curls up on a makeshift pillow crafted from his beaten down (stolen) leather jacket, and closes his eyes.
But instead of the previous nights, where he dreams about death and destruction, dreams up different ways Taehyung could have survived, dreams up Namjoon not caring about Taehyung’s death—he dreams of you.
Dreams about you are such a rarity now, but they always make him feel warm. Content. Almost satisfied.
In the dream, the pair of you are situated underneath a big tree at the edge of the forest. You’re in the middle of teaching him about Mythomagic—a card game he had immediately developed an interest for—and he realizes he’s dreaming about a memory this time. When he steals a look at you, he sees sunlight curling around your form, lighting up your hair and your eyes. He hears your laughter and sees the crinkle in your eyes. He can feel your happiness and the innocence in the air around you. He remembers the peacefulness, the calming nature of you.
He misses it—he misses you.
A cold chill running down his spine startles Jungkook awake as he springs into a sitting position. The fire before him has long since been put out, and Min Yoongi is floating in front of him. The latter wears a sharp look. “You’re dreaming about her again, aren’t you?”
Jungkook sighs. Good things in his life could only last for so long. He runs a hand through his hair and turns to gather his jacket into his arms. “I thought I asked you to stop peeking into my mind.”
“You were smiling,” Yoongi observes quietly.
“That’s none of your business,” Jungkook snaps.
“It must have been a good dream. I couldn’t see the contents of the dream, just the subject.”
“Stay out of my head!” Jungkook hisses, standing up and sliding his arms into the jacket.
“You care deeply about her.”
“What do I have to say to get you to stop talking about her?” Jungkook retorts hotly, feeling his temper rise. It had been a good dream. The best one he’s had all week.
Yoongi looks at him passively. “Just answer one of my questions,” He settles calmly.
Jungkook grunts. “Fine. What is it?”
“Why exactly do you care so much about her? You hardly know her.”
Jungkook slides his backpack over his shoulder. He ignores the touch of passive aggressiveness in Yoongi’s tone. “She was the only one at camp who went out of their way to make me feel like they actually gave a shit.”
“She cares more about Namjoon than you,” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “She and Namjoon have been friends for longer. She only talked to you because of Namjoon, after all. And don’t you hate him?”
“Shut up.”
“You worry she doesn’t care for you the way you do. Haven’t you wondered why she hasn’t tried looking for you?”
“Shut up.”
“She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Jungkook explodes, turning towards Yoongi with his arm out in a striking motion. His arm cuts clean through the ghost, and he watches as the pieces wisp away into the air. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Yoongi will be back soon, probably to reprimand him, but mostly to carry on as if this hadn’t happened—to continue asking questions and continue trying to piss Jungkook off. It doesn’t matter. Jungkook could never bring Yoongi any harm. The latter is a ghost, after all.
There’s still a lot he doesn’t understand.
.
Jungkook calls off his deal with Yoongi shortly after the You Incident—in which a series of dreams about you sent Yoongi on an accusatory streak that sent him back to the Underworld where he rightfully belongs. It’s good because he doesn’t want a ghost meddling in his personal business, and his personal feelings.
It’s bad, however, because Jungkook no longer has an evil ghost by his side that offers up revenge.
This leaves him to do the next best thing—try and summon Taehyung.
As a son of Hades, his powers do include communicating with ghosts like Yoongi and cracking holes into the ground, but it also involves the ability to summon deceased souls. All that is required is a pit, some food, and a cantation in Ancient Greek. It’s supposed to be simple, and in a way it is.
Except when the soul he’s trying to summon doesn’t want to be found, which is exactly how it has gone with Taehyung. He’s tried to get Taehyung’s attention for weeks now, to no luck. And he’s tried everything.
Jungkook scowls to himself as he takes in the local convenience store to buy the various items he’ll need to attempt another summoning. Animal blood is one of the best tools for this type of power, but animal blood doesn’t exactly like up on shelves in aisles of grocery stores—so Jungkook has settled with fast food meals, chips, or anything cheap he can get his hands on.
He glares at the lineup of sodas in front of his gaze, trying to focus but he finds his mind wandering against through his memories, picking the ones that are most guaranteed to make him feel like shit.
His mind settles on a line Yoongi said to him countless times regarding you: She was only nice to you because Namjoon asked her to be nice to you.
His hands shake in his pockets, determined not to believe it, but finding himself pool with doubt nonetheless.
“Jungkook.”
He jumps out of his skin at the familiar voice he’s spent the past many months thinking about, as the sensation rings through his body. He experiences brief flashes of emotions he hasn’t undergone in awhile: peace, warmth, hope. He turns on his heel and can’t help the way his eyes widen at the sight of you.
The months that have passed since his disappearance really does wonders to your face. You look older. You look wary, but well prepared. Most of all, your eyes are still that bright light he remembers more often than he cares to admit. But you also look sad, like the sight of Jungkook is worse than you expected.
“Jungkook…” You say again, quieter this time.
You saying his name again brings him back to reality, brings him back to where he is and why he’s here. He doesn’t need you. Like Yoongi said, you’re friends with Namjoon—and Namjoon is the reason why Taehyung is dead. His voice sounds hollow. “What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you the same question.”
His scowl deepens as he settles for a Mountain Dew on the rack. “That’s none of your business.” He catches the hurt that flickers in your eyes, but he turns towards the cashier before he can feel sorry for you.
You trail after him. “Please don’t shut me out,” You plead gently. You stay behind Jungkook as he pays for his food. “I came here looking for you.”
“Awfully convenient—but I don’t think you should be wasting your time,” Jungkook grumbles, bounding out of the shop and stopping along the sidewalk. “Why don’t you go back to Namjoon and keep being his best friend and just leave me alone?”
A sort of realization seems to settle in your eyes, as if you’ve just confirmed something. “I’m not leaving,” You say firmly after a moment. “I’m here by myself, Jungkook. No campers, no Namjoon, it’s just me. I know you’re mad at Namjoon, and you have every right to be upset. I know why you cracked a hole in the ground. I understand all that now. But I really think you should stop blaming Namjoon and hurting yourself. Namjoon didn’t mean to let Taehyung die—!”
Jungkook whirls around, his eyes a twin set of fire. “Don’t say his name,” He snaps roughly, but falls silent when you don’t even flinch.
How could he raise his voice at the only person who has gone out of their way to ensure his safety?
He turns away. He doesn’t apologize, and you don’t ask him to.
The pair of you don’t say anything for a long moment—Jungkook just makes his way down the sidewalk and you follow along.
He stops after a moment. He turns himself just enough so you can see his profile. “Fine,” He says, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest when you flash him an appreciative smile. “I’ll let you tag along. But only because I feel bad for snapping at you. I’ve just…” He sighs. “Been going through a lot.”
You step forward to stand by his side. “We can talk about anything you want to, Jungkook. I’m still your friend.”
He swallows thickly at your offer, hoping that you don’t notice. If you do, you remain silent. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”
.
Two days after you join Jungkook’s travels, you seem to decide he is calm enough for a sensitive question. But you’re sneaky about it. You wait until the night, when both of you are curling around a fire—you in your sleeping bag, and Jungkook with his signature leather jacket makeshift pillow underneath his head. “Why are you so afraid to talk about Taehyung’s death?”
He flinches at the mention of Taehyung’s name, knowing that snapping and causing a scene would do nothing to stop you from asking the question over and over again. You had given him a few days, but something about your tone tonight tells him that you won’t take no for an answer.
Jungkook turns his head to look at you. Your eyes are flickering against the fire. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
You shrug a shoulder. “Sure.”
He sighs, momentarily stumped. “I’m afraid that if I admit it, or let other people admit it in front of me, it’s true and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back.”
“I don’t think Taehyung would want you to bring him back, Jungkook. He saved Namjoon that day; he sacrificed himself for a reason—!”
“Okay, my turn,” Jungkook interrupts, refusing to hear any of it. “Why are you here? Really?”
You are quiet for a second. “I was sent on a quest to come find you,” You reply after a moment. “The oracle told me about a prophecy where you were in danger. It said you had made a deal with Min Yoongi, said you were considering a soul for a soul trade to get Taehyung back. I was scared for you, Jungkook.” You sit up in your sleeping bag, leaning across the space between the two of you. “My turn. Why don’t you want to believe that Taehyung sacrificed himself to save Namjoon?”
“Because why would he do that?” Jungkook retorts back. “Why would he leave behind everything he cared about? Why would he leave me—?” The words choke in the back of his throat as his heart rams painfully against his chest, the underlying reason for his bitterness surfacing up again. He thought he had smashed his grief down far enough where it would never have to see sunlight again. “It’s nothing. I’m not playing this game anymore.”
You are quiet, watching as Jungkook curls into himself and turns his back to you. “When are you going to start letting me in?” You whisper. “I didn’t accept that quest for no reason, Jungkook, I came because I care about you. I want to help you.”
I’ve already let you in, far more than I wanted to, Jungkook thinks to himself instead, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.
“I know that Taehyung would have never wanted to leave you. He cared about you a lot, and saw you as the little brother he never had. You guys deserved more time. You deserved more time to have the family you never got to have. You wanna know the last thing Taehyung said to me, after introducing us to each other all that time ago? He said that you guys only knew each other for a short time, but you were the strongest person Taehyung had known. I know how much Taehyung wanted to be there for you. But he also had other responsibilities.” Your fingers twitch as if you want to reach over and grab onto Jungkook. “Namjoon had been the leader of the quest, he was the main priority. Taehyung had to make the call. He would never have wanted you to take the guilt for a decision he made on his own.”
Jungkook hesitates, before rolling onto his back. “Why does Namjoon deserve my forgiveness?”
Finally, he spares a glance at you. You’re still looking at him, gaze sharp over the fire. It distracts Jungkook momentarily, as his mind thinks about how different you are from fire. Fire can be harsh, blunt, unforgiving, and relentless. Like him.
But you are like the sun—bright, warm, longing. You refuse to give up on him.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” You whisper. “Because everyone deserves a second chance.”
He stares at you. He doesn’t know what longing dances behind his eyes, but you seem to know, because you avert your gaze and grumble something about going to sleep.
He watches you turn to your side, and he wonders.
.
Jungkook has tried to summon Taehyung a grand total of ten times in the weeks prior to his run in with you. Each time is met with failure, because it seems like Taehyung does not want to be summoned which is disappointing and disheartening. To be honest, it makes Jungkook less and less enthusiastic to keep attempting something he cannot guarantee.
But as you stand next to him over an empty pit the pair of you have spent the last thirty minutes digging up, you take your hand in his. You smile at him, nodding. “It’ll work this time.”
So Jungkook pours in the Mountain Dew and dumps out the bag of chips he’s acquired into the hole. As he repeats the same cantation he’s said for the past ten times, the food starts bubbling as spirits from the Underworld fight to get a taste of the offering.
“Show me Taehyung!” Jungkook calls out, although he sounds worried and unsure.
At once, a spirit with a bright light, brighter than the others around it, shines through. It slides to the front to drink from the food at the bottom of the pit. The figure morphs and forms into Kim Taehyung.
Despite everything, despite the long hours that Jungkook has committed to summoning Taehyung, the sight of his friend does not fill him with joy. It fills his eyes with tears.
You notice, you always do. You squeeze his hand, but you also let go of him. “I’ll leave you two.”
So Taehyung talks. He talks and talks, about his quest, about his sacrifice, about Namjoon, about forgiveness.
This is something Jungkook has wanted for weeks. Yet, the longer Taehyung talks, the deeper he can feel the rifts of frustration.
Frustration at Namjoon, for whom everyone is telling Jungkook to forgive.
Frustration at Taehyung, for leaving him drowning in the sorrows of his own nightmares. For leaving him, even when he wasn’t ready to be left.
Frustration at you, for always caring about him, even when he’s sure he doesn’t even care about himself anymore.
When Jungkook releases Taehyung back to the Underworld, he feels like a hollow shell. He simply stands there, in front of the pit that brought forth his best friend. His mind is whirling with questions, with a curiosity.
You approach him slowly. “Jungkook…”
“You should go back,” He mutters.
You actually look shocked at this now. “What?”
He turns on his heel to address you properly. “Go back to camp.” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, but the words come out like a snap. He tries to reprimand the situation when your face falls just a fraction. “Go back to camp,” He tries again, a little softer this time. He keeps his gaze on you, even when you look up to stare at him. “It’ll be okay. I just need a little bit of time.”
At this, you nod slowly. You try for a smile. “Come back home, okay?”
He thinks he knows what you mean, but you disappear before he can ask you.
.
He returns to Camp Half Blood after a few days, with his leather jacket and black iron sword. The campers that guard the border part for him like the Red Sea—with the exception of one camper. He’s an older camper, who even in the dark shines brighter than the moon overhead. It’s a son of Apollo quality. It belongs to Jung Hoseok, a camper Jungkook met when he first arrived at camp. Hoseok is like sunshine—he’s always bright and cheerful with a positive disposition.
Today, despite still having that glint in his eyes, the boy wears a much more solemn expression. Almost as if he’s seen everything that Jungkook has gone through. Or, at the very least, has heard about it. “Hey Jungkook…” Hoseok greets. He doesn’t leave much room for conversation, because he gestures past the archway entrance, down the hill, towards the Big House—the main meeting place for campers, the central point of Camp Half Blood. “She’s waiting for you.”
He doesn’t need a list of camp names to know who Hoseok is talking about. Jungkook just mumbles his thanks, trying not to draw too much attention to the flush against his cheeks as he follows the pathway down into camp. It’s late, so the grounds are devoid of people, making it easier for Jungkook to step onto the porch of the Big House.
You’re on the porch, pacing back and forth with your thumb in between your teeth and you look nervous. You’re mumbling something underneath your breath.
But your ears are just as good as your eyes, because as soon as Jungkook steps on the wood, you’re whirling around to face him. “Jungkook!” You exclaim, approaching him with tentative steps. “Y-You came back.”
He levels you with a look, feeling a bashfulness overcome him. “You asked me to,” He says. There’s a slight pause. “I told you I needed time to think, and I have. You were right. Everyone deserves a second chance. It wasn’t fair of me to go after Namjoon the way I did.”
You nod, giving him a small smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Jungkook continues to stare at you, feeling a fondness overcoming him. “Thanks,” He finally settles with. “For, you know, finding me. For not giving up on me.” He looks down, scratching the back of his neck. “I should probably go find Namjoon and apologize.”
You wave away his concern. “Namjoon is asleep.” You angle your head towards the oceanside that surrounds the camp. “Want to take a walk with me?”
So you lead him through the camp, past the cabins of campers, past the archery set, past all that, to finally the beach located along the outskirts of the camp. It’s home to many boat races, surfing adventures, and firework displays. Currently, it’s devoid of activity. Right now there is merely a wooden pier that stretches out into the ocean, one that you and Jungkook walk down before you settle down at the edge.
You pat the spot next to you, and Jungkook sits down. Since you don’t say anything, he allows himself to stare out at the horizon, and the movement of the ocean. When you still don’t say anything, Jungkook dares himself to look at you. The moonlight is cascading across your features. You look like home. You feel like home.
You look at him suddenly, and knit your eyebrows. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Oh, uh, no…” He trails off, forcing himself to look away from you. Should he tell you? Not tell you, but… “Hey Y/N,” Jungkook speaks before he can think otherwise.
You look at him. “Yes?”
Jungkook straightens his back a little. “I-I think I should tell you… I didn’t come back just for Namjoon. Actually, I came back to tell you that I, uh, well, I missed you—I mean, hanging out with you—I wanted to be a better person because of you—I mean, not just because of you, but—!”
You start to smile at that, before you do something unexpected. You lean over and kiss his cheek.
He feels like his body has just been shocked, the sensation dancing up and down his spine. “W-What was that for?” He’s trying to sound confused, but his nerves immediately start getting the best of him.
Your smile is still present, but it’s a kind smile that touches your eyes and assures him of his choice to return. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice. You still wear your emotions in your eyes. That’s one that hasn’t changed over the past year.”
He scoffs, but his face feels hot and he’s sure the effect he’s trying to go for is lost anyways.
#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts angst#traci writes#collection:petals
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"why don't we be friends (why don't we make out)" - (1/1)
words: 2,373
read on ao3
—
There are very few people that Nico forgets about. At least, as far as the people that have stuck around with him for most of his life.
He’s known Percy and Annabeth since they were young, remembering watching the two of them chase each other around the schoolyard and purposefully try and get desks right next to each other before they were inevitably separated by alphabetical last name seating. He remembers trying to convince Piper to do his french project and Jason sitting in the halls with him outside of the music room when they wouldn’t want to go outside for recess in middle school. He can still hear the alarm when Leo accidentally knocked over a bunsen burner in their sophomore year chemistry class, and the feeling of paint on his skin when Hazel tripped and sent half of her palette onto him in their art class.
Nico can even recall moments with the people he was never particularly close to, like when Rachel told him she loved him backstage of their winter concert after only having known him for five minutes (in a very lesbian/gay solidarity way, of course), or when Grover spent an entire hour hiding out in their school library to get away from their math sub.
It’s strange now, looking across such a large circle of people piled into Jason and Thalia’s house. They’re all people from his grade (or class , he supposes, now that they’re officially graduated), Each one of them, Nico can remember at least one conversation he’s had with them, one story he’s passed into his closer friend group that is laughed over and then inevitably moved on from.
It was supposed to be a big party celebrating all their friendships throughout the years.
Ironically, so many people that had such little impact on him, in retrospect.
Which is why it comes as a surprise to him when he sees a flash of blonde curls and freckled skin among the sea of people. He’s hit with what feels like a wall of memories of the two of them, laying in the same bed trading quiet secrets, and walks to the store to get an inhumane amount of candy that they can go share at the pier. Images of blue eyes, warm hands in his, and the sound of stifled laughter at midnight feel all too familiar. Nico is stuck on them.
He hasn’t seen Will in years.
It wasn’t exactly his choice. It wasn’t either of theirs, really. They had gone to middle school together, and from the ages of 10 to 14, Will knew the most about him.
And then their middle school graduation came and went, and Will left for a boarding school. Nico remembers, vaguely, Will asking him to come with them.
“They offer more classes, and there are more opportunities for help,” they had said, or something along the lines of it. “And we could be roommates.”
Part of him wanted to. All of him almost went. But it was the same year he lost his sister, and while moving to another state for school sounded like a fantastic way to avoid all his trauma, he had to stay with his family. Not that his father would have stopped him, but Nico knew he couldn’t go. Not yet.
So he stayed, and Will left, and it all worked out fine. They texted every other day, facetimed once or twice a month when their schedules lined up. Will came home for Christmas that year, telling stories about the other kids on their floor and their girlfriend. Then, when he came home for that summer, about their boyfriend.
Nico would listen, then catch Will up about what was going on at his public school. He had gone out on a date with one boy which was nice but didn’t turn into anything, and Will told him he would find someone eventually. They took trips to the mall together instead of the pier, mostly just to get milkshakes and have a place to walk around.
One morning, Will convinced him to bike to the beach in the morning to see the sunrise. The sky ended up being too cloudy, but they still sat together on the empty lifeguard chair, swapped sweatshirts and bagels with cream cheese, and talking about summer jobs and college.
Then Will left for their sophomore year, and school caught up to both of them and whatever kept them going was lost. The most Nico talked to them was through the occasional Snapchat sent to each other or on a group facetime
The last time Nico had called Will alone, it was in a panic to ask advice on how to break up with the boy he was dating at the time because he realized that relationships weren’t really his thing, at least not yet. Will had sat quietly, giving him occasional advice, and mostly just comforted him.
And that was it.
Nico had gotten a new phone later that year, and all their call logs and long text threads were lost into the depths of his phone memory.
It was bittersweet, in all honesty, and pretty painless for the most part. Maybe it’s because Nico never really forgot about Will. There was never any clear ending; no hard feelings between the two of them. He still sees their posts on social media, sees their mom in the store on occasion. He remembers passing Will at their local fair when they came home again for the summer of their junior year with their boyfriend that they were still dating, and then later again the next when he noticed that all posts had been removed from their Instagram including the ones with said boyfriend and nothing but will - they/them in their bio.
He wondered, briefly, where Will had gone when he didn’t even see him in passing over the following summer. Was he still going to the boarding school? Had his family moved out of the state entirely?
It never felt like a friendship breakup. It was clear now, though.
Nico wonders at which point it became one.
He didn’t mean to stare at Will as long as he did. Everything had just come washing over him at once, and he was frozen in place staring at the person Nico had once called his best friend.
He doesn’t even realize he was staring until Will looks back. Their blue eyes meet his brown ones, and reality sets back in. The loud music he had drowned out in his daydream came filtering back through his ears, and he stumbles as people shove past him towards the kitchen. Still, his gaze locks on Will.
Neither of them makes a move towards each other at first.
Then, a moment later, Will is right next to him.
“Hey,” they say it slowly, almost like they were testing the waters, like they knew how long it had been since they had spoken.
Nico doesn’t know what to say. His first instinct was to hug them.
He withstands it, though, instead grabbing onto their wrist and pulling them past the crowd of people and into one of the rooms off of the main hall, which was miraculously empty. He can still hear the pounding music, but it was a little bit quieter with the door closed. Quiet enough that he can think again.
“Uh, hi,” Will tries again, and god, their smile never changed.
“Sorry,” Nico says once he realized he had just seemingly dragged them into a secondary location with no explanation. “It was just… loud. Out there.”
“I get it,” Will says, sitting down on the couch pushed onto the far wall and looking back up at Nico. They were wearing a pinkish-orange button-up Hawaiian shirt that looked straight out of their dad’s closet (Nico would know, he’s seen it before) that was half-tucked into mid-rise light wash jeans that were cuffed just enough that you could see a glimpse of where their socks met their Converse. Yellow, possibly the same pair they had bought at the mall two years prior when Nico was there.
They got taller, he thinks vaguely. Nico had too, but Will still has at least half a foot on him.
“So, what’s up?”
“Not much, I guess,” he shrugs, twisting his ring. “I mean, I graduated. I assume you did too.”
Will nods. “I did. Lou Ellen invited me as her plus one. You know her, right? Friends with Rachel.”
Nico nods. Shoulder length, cloud-like hair that was a different color every other week. Wore lots of random thrifted t-shirts over big pants. Loud personality, even louder voice. Band kid. Friends with Cecil; her good grades probably being the only reason he hasn’t been kicked out of the school yet. Once debated the legitimacy of gender binaries with him in an English class.
“Sorry for, like, staring at you before,” he says. “It’s been a while.”
They nod again. “All good. I was staring at you before anyway.”
“You were?”
“Yeah,” Will shrugs. “You’re easy to look at.”
Then, a moment later, “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah. You’ve changed a bit.”
“Have I?” They ask. “I think just my look, maybe. I’m still just as obnoxious.”
Nico snorts. It’s comforting to know they could just slip back into it like this. Like no time had ever passed, and Nico is back in their bedroom creating each other in The Sims.
“Are you still dating Connor?” Nico asks, vaguely remembering the last conversation they had.
“Nah, we broke up last winter.”
“Any reason?”
Will squints a bit like they’re curious why Nico’s asking. It makes Nico blush, immediately regretting saying anything.
“Dunno. We just grew apart,” they say. Then, “Sounds kinda familiar, doesn’t it?” followed by a laugh.
“I didn’t mean to stop talking to you,” Nico says quickly because he didn’t. There are days where he sees Will’s Instagram story or a tweet and knows that even though he could still comment, it wouldn’t quite be the same.
“Life got busy,” Will says. “It happens”
“I didn’t want it to. Not to us.”
“So let's restart.”
Nico blinks. “Just… start over our entire friendship?”
“No, just pick up where we left off.”
“Just like nothing happened?” he asks, sitting down on the couch next to them.
“Just like nothing happened,” Will affirms.
They’re both quiet for a moment, then—
“Do you remember what you told me when you first came out as bisexual to me?”
It was in the basement of Will’s house. Nico had come out as gay a few weeks prior, and when he was talking about the boy he liked, they just casually mentioned it. Being with Will like this again reminded him of something they had said, and something he later found out.
“I think I just, like… told you, right?” Will smiles. “And I said you were a big part of helping me figure out.”
“Yeah. I always thought you meant because I had already come out,” Nico said. “It wasn’t until, like, last year that Piper mentioned you meant that because you liked me.”
Will laughed again. “I figured you didn’t. You were always talking about what bad of a couple we would make.”
“Yeah,” Nico said, and his heart picked up pace as his knee knocked against Will’s by accident. Neither of them moved. “I actually had a massive crush on you for a while. I think I just said that because I wanted to try and get over it, so I wanted you to indirectly reject me.”
“Did you ever get over it?”
Nico laughs. “Not really. But I moved on.”
He notices Will shift closer, notices how their hands are now on top of each other and their legs are fully pressed together.
“Same,” Will says, moving their head closer to Nico’s until their foreheads are pressed together and their breaths mingle. They look at him for any sign to stop, and Nico doesn’t move.
“Good thing we’re starting over then, right?” they continue, practically a breath of a whisper before their lips connect, and god Nico did not think this was where his night was going but no way in hell was he about to stop it. (He’s not sober enough to care, anyway, and seemingly neither is Will judging by the strong scent smell of weed coming off of his shirt.)
Their hands laced together, subconsciously, almost like muscle memory from all the days walking hand in hand down the dock. (Nico wonders if his younger self was ever trying to tell his mind something.) Nico’s other hand comes up to rest on warm skin, brushing Will’s cheek with his thumb like he’s trying to wipe the freckles off.
Will wraps one arm around Nico’s waist, pulling him closer until he eventually just shifts so he’s in their lap. Will certainly doesn’t complain, only tilting their head to deepen the kiss and breaking apart their hands so they can run one hand through Nico’s hair.
They have to break apart after a moment, and Nico can help it when he laughs.
“Guess we were a little dumb when we were younger, huh?”
Will’s breathing heavy, but Nico doesn’t miss the familiar playful glint in their eye. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re still an idiot,” they say, pressing a kiss to the underside of Nico’s jaw, and another one right next to his ear.
He wonders if Will has thought about doing this the same way Nico has.
“Says you,” Nico says. “You were far more oblivious than I was.”
“I’m not the one who said we would make a bad couple,” they remind Will.
“Yeah?” he says, then leans back in to kiss Will again. Their mouths slot together, and god, they’re an even better kisser than Nico ever thought they could be. Something in his mind tells him maybe it’s not relationships he didn’t like, maybe he just knew it wasn’t the right person.
Perhaps Will’s that person he was always looking for.
Nico leans back, just barely so he can mumble “Lucky for you, I’m willing to test that theory,” against Will’s lips just before they pull him in once more.
—
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#solangelo#will solace#nico di angelo#pjo#heros of olympus#my writing#liz writes.com#i like this update for the automatic italicies but holy shit just let me type my tags tumblr dear god
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nico — a playlist made by me
listen, every time I listen to any of these songs I keep thinking of nico and his relationship with lewis so bear with me and let me explain why👇🏻
1. Unfucktheworld, Angela Olsen
The whole situation with lewis tired nico relentlessly so he needed a break to take care of himself.
It’s not just me for you I have to look out too
I have to save my life
I need some peace of mind
2. We own the sky, M83
nico dreamed all his life to race in f1 with lewis, and as a child everything seemed possible.
Each shade of blue
Is kept in our eyes
Keep blowing and lightning
Because we own the sky
But then things started to fall apart between them and there was no chance to go backwards.
Can’t we change our minds?
We kill what we build
3. The wolves (act i and ii), Bon Iver
(God this song fits both of them so well. it goes better with lewis’ perspective but humour me for this time.)
nico felt betrayed by lewis’ attitude and he was resentful. He hopesone day lewis will understand how much he hurt him.
Someday my pain will mark you
And when he will, nicowill take comfort in that, so he suggests lewis to just go ahead and finish him.
Solace my game
It stars you
Swing wide your crane, swing wide your crane
And run me through
nico reflects in hindsight how many moments they could have had but now it’s all vanished and Lewis won’t hear from him anymore.
What might have been lost (don’t bother me)
4. The great escape, Patrick Watson
The situation exhausted nico to his limits so he needed to escape, even if he loves racing so much.
Puts on a smile and breathes it in
And breathes it out, he says
Bye bye, bye to all of the noise
5. Many ways, Bombat Bicycle Club
nico doesn’t know if he is doing the right choice and can’t sleep because of it.
She said you’re stirring
Tossing, turning
But Vivian reassures him and says he is doing the right thing.
I’m sure your choice is right
Nonetheless, nico thinks he is a coward from running away and thinks there are other possibilities to make up for it.
I’ve always been a coward
Been a coward this day
There are many ways this way
6. See you soon, Coldplay
Nico has lost trust in himself and he scolds himself because he shouldn’t have fallen in love in the first place.
So you lost your trust
And you never should have
He tries to go on. He protects himself (with the bulletproof vest) from hurting again.
In a bulletproof vest
With the windows all closed
I’ll be doing my best
he watches Lewis from afar “in a telescope lens” and hopes they'll be friends again very soon.
And when all you want is friends
I’ll see you soon
7. Old friend, Mitski
Nico understands how childish was to make an insignificant thing like racing divide them.
We nearly drowned
For such a silly thing
And now that they have both someone better to take care of them they can go back being what they were, even if it means only friendship.
I’ll take coffee and talk about nothing baby
At blue diner I’ll take anything you want to give me, baby
8. Ran away, Coldplay
Another song about nico avoiding the situation with lewis.
I ran away from you
That’s all I ever do
People said to him not to mess up things, not to leave, that is stupid and won’t solve anything and yet he did it.
Everyone I know
Says I’m a fools to mess with you
And everyone I know
Says it’s such a stupid thing to do
9. Atmosphere, Joy Division
They try to talk but it’s impossible to rebuild what they lost.
Endless talking
Life rebuilding
Don’t walk away
Nico pleads lewis to stay even if he knows it’s hopeless
Don’t turn away in silence
Your confusion
My illusion
Worn like a mask of self hate
10. The Bourne identity, The Last Shadow Puppets
(okay this is the most Nico song ever written so bear with me for just a little longer)
Nico understands that his insecurities are ruining his relationship with lewis. He always feels smaller compared to lewis’ grandness and he masks his doubts with confidence, like he usually does when he answers journalists question. He creates another new person, but now this facade is cracking and it’s revealing his true self and he hates it.
He’s kind of my enemy
Whenever I’m on to something good you see
He always wanted in to spoil it for me
That’s because the relationship with lewis makes him do this. He doesn’t need to hide with him, so he keeps cracking and cracking.
Glass bottomed ego
Still afloat but can’t you see the cracking appearing in the base?
He always scolds himself for this and for the mistakes he makes. He beats himself up so much that nothing will be left in the end.
Let’s just have a buzz because by the time I’m done fucking beating myself up there will nothing left love
So he leaves. He doesn’t want Lewis to see him like this.
Yeah I’ll be leaving now, I’m making tracks
And I doubt that I’ll be coming back.
If you made it this far thank you for your attention. Hope you enjoyed the songs and the explanations as much as I did🤍
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day 17
did anyone ask for more nicky angst?? no?? well have some anyway
[content warnings: injury/death/blood (a lot of it.)]
[prompt: field surgery]
His hands are so often covered in blood these days.
But not because he is fighting: because he is trying to save as many people as he can, and yet he cannot save everyone. And their blood stains his hands.
He was born in a time when war was swords and shields and crossbows. He is still struggling to understand this, the guns and cannons and gas, so much more effective at dealing death than anything he had ever known before.
“Nicky!” someone yells, startling him out of his thoughts. “Gunshot wound.”
Right. He has a job to do.
It’s a bullet to the shoulder, nothing he hasn’t handled before. Both in terms of treating them and having one himself. The soldier they bring him is young, his features contorted in pain.
He has done this a thousand times before. He gives the boy a towel to bite down on and busies himself with removing the bullet from his shoulder.
It’s as if he’s watching from the doorway. He knows he’s the one doing it, and yet… he is disconnected, somehow.
The next one they bring him has a bullet in his leg. The next, shrapnel buried in his arm.
The one after that is worse.
“What happened?” he asks as they haul him in.
“Shell,” one of the soldiers with him says.
The man on the stretcher is barely moving, his stomach torn open. There’s blood everywhere: on the stretcher, on the man’s clothes, on the other soldiers’ hands.
“We need to stop the bleeding,” he says. “Get me bandages, a towel…”
Even as he says it, he knows there’s very little he can do. He tries anyway. He bandages the wound and yet the blood keeps coming, too much for him to stop.
The man tries to speak, choking on his own blood.
Nicky takes his hand to offer what little comfort he can. You are not alone.
He watches the light fade from the man’s eyes, and whispers a prayer over his body. Then he steps back and watches as they take away the body.
Then it is just him, lingering alone when everyone else has left.
All these injuries. Injuries he could take and come back from in seconds, that kill so many. He saves as many as he can and yet it is never enough. There is no pause, no relief, no respite.
He’s so tired.
“Nico,” Joe says from the doorway.
He looks up.
Joe is leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, looking at him. “Are you okay?”
He’s not sure he knows how to answer that question anymore. He’s not even sure what okay means.
“I tried,” he whispers, looking down at his hands, stained with the man’s blood. “There was too much- I couldn’t-”
“Breathe,” Joe tells him, crossing the room to stand in front of him. “You did everything you could.”
“And it wasn’t enough- I-”
“Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, Nico.”
Nicky tries to take a breath to steady himself, and can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”
He lets Joe lead him away, not registering his surroundings. His world narrows down to the feel of his hand in Joe’s and the exhaustion in his bones. Joe guides him into another room, over to a silver basin of water with a cloth beside it.
“Sit down and hold out your hands,” Joe tells him, and Nicky does.
Joe dips the cloth in the basin and begins to clean away the blood on Nicky’s hands. The water is cold, but Nicky doesn’t mind: there’s something grounding about it.
They get so few quiet moments now, surrounded by people as they are. Instead, they resign themselves to whispered words and casual touches that linger just a moment too long, and wait for the war to be over.
“I was thinking about Malta again,” Joe says.
“Oh?” He tries to sound normal, and yet his voice is broken, hoarse.
Joe looks up at him. “When all this is over,” he promises. “We could use a break.”
Nicky almost laughs at that. Yes, they could.
Joe continues to clean the blood away, staining the water and the cloth and his own hands red. So much red. He blinks, and it’s gone.
“Better?” Joe asks when it’s done.
Nicky nods, not trusting himself to speak.
Joe sets aside the cloth. “Are you okay?”
Nicky shakes his head. What would he say, anyway?
They have dealt with blood before. This is no different. This should be no different.
Nicky blinks to try and stop his tears, and Joe reaches for him without a word, holding him close. Nicky rests his head on Joe’s shoulder, and tries to remember how to breathe normally. Imagines his lungs expanding as he inhales, contracting as he exhales, and it helps, a little.
“I have you,” Joe says softly. “Just breathe.”
“I should be able to help them,” Nicky whispers. “But I can’t.”
“You can’t save everyone. I know you’re trying, but you can’t save everyone. That doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough.” Joe pulls back to look at him. “You’ve saved so many, Nico. That’s not nothing.”
Nicky closes his eyes and leans forward to press their foreheads together.
There will be more blood tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that.
But they will survive this, together.
#neon writes#the old guard#kaysanova#nicolo di genova#nicky!!!#userhegel#usersimo#swquser#lazynbored#moonlightandromache#this is set in. a war. at some point. don't look too closely at the setting#usertriz
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percabeth | hurt/comfort | 3k | commissioned by @mericatblackwood
a post-TLO fic in which we finally Let Percy Cry
Annabeth doesn’t know what to do with anger—her own or others’. She can take her problems to the sword fighting arena or bury her nose in blueprints for weeks, but she’ll still come away with a tight jaw. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands when they aren’t clenched into fists.
So when the tendons in Percy’s hands strain around his silverware at dinner, when his eyes are downcast and he’s closed off in that I’m-angry-but-trying-desperately-not-to-look-it way, Annabeth can only fumble over a painfully casual attempt at conversation and watch as he retreats to his cabin. He doesn’t even make an appearance at the campfire. The flames have been low in the weeks following the Battle of Manhattan, but they’re rising tonight.
The problem isn’t reading Percy; it never has been. Annabeth knows what’s hurting him and why. It’s the fixing part she struggles with.
continue on AO3
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He’s been angry for the better part of a year, often because of the ambiguous impending doom of his sixteenth birthday, but not exclusively so. Annabeth caused more than her fair share of his anger, she knows. Rachel had been there to provide an escape in her place, but Annabeth supposes part of being Percy’s girlfriend means that it’s her who gets to provide solace now. Not that she didn’t before, but. There’s a deeper commitment now. He was always her person—as she was his—but it’s out in the open. She’s the first line of defense—she wants to be the first line of defense from danger, be it physical or emotional.
So Annabeth dons her Yankees cap and sneaks to Cabin 3, replaying the conversation where Percy shrugged and said he’s fine when she tried to call him out. He isn’t fine. She knows that much.
That doesn’t mean she expects to find him curled in on himself, bedsheets tangled around his middle. It shouldn’t be possible to look small in a twin bed, but he looks so small—not at all like the hero the other campers celebrate over the campfire. It’s a stark reminder that he’s only sixteen.
He lifts his head when the door opens, his eyes wide. Annabeth remembers that she’s invisible and knocks her cap off her head. She’ll pick it up later. Right now Percy’s breath stutters at the sight of her, his eyes shining like open wounds.
Annabeth can do dry anger: the cold, unfeeling rage that motivates, propels, inspires. But wet anger—the paralyzing, painful kind you cannot power through—leaves her scrambling for purchase. Annabeth is a runner. She doesn’t sit in anything.
The sheets rustle as Percy closes his eyes and takes refuge in his bed like a dog hiding his wounded paw. Despite his efforts, he cannot disguise his limp.
“Please don’t hide from us,” Annabeth pleads.
“I’m not hiding from you,” he says mildly, not lifting his head from the pillow. “I can’t hide from you.”
“But you came here.”
“I knew you would come.” Percy shrugs, casually stating as fact something Annabeth didn’t know herself until a few minutes ago.
In this moment, Annabeth envies Percy’s connection with Grover. She would kill to have a way to funnel her emotions into Percy’s brain in a way he could understand. All the love and concern she can’t articulate could exist in the world without the struggle of finding the right words.
Still, Percy specified her. Grover is out there at the campfire, probably sensing Percy’s pain like a twinge at the base of his neck, but Annabeth is the one Percy can’t hide from.
The thought propels her to the edge of his bed, sitting in the curve of mattress his torso folds around. His knees press into her right thigh as he shifts to close the space between them. Annabeth realizes with a jolt that he left this space for her to occupy.
On her other side is his face, youthful and soft in the moonlight streaming through the window. Blue light for a blue boy, swimming in blue sheets that should shelter him instead of giving him something to fist his hands in. His arms cage his chest as if his heart is trying to escape it.
Annabeth reaches for his hand, drawing it to rest between hers. If his heart is a burden, it’s not one he has to bear alone. They held the weight of the sky once. They can handle this.
For all their shared burdens, the one that weighs on Percy now is uniquely his. Annabeth is a hero, but not the hero. Shouldering “child of Athena’s final stand” for a few weeks is not the same as “hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap” looming overhead for four years. Percy’s very existence has been dissected and politicized since the moment he was claimed, whereas Annabeth could’ve chosen a quieter, quest-free life if that’s what she wanted. She chose to pick it up. Percy’s choice was to stand under a weight that would otherwise crush him.
It occurs to Annabeth that everyone who has shouldered this burden before him is dead. The heroes whose birth was prophesied, whose death was prophesied, died fighting their battles centuries ago. There are no words for that.
Words are Percy’s strong suit, anyway. He has always known what to say to calm his friends down. Annabeth can’t recall the last time she saw someone do the same for him.
She squeezes his hand and focuses on being here, where it matters.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, knowing he doesn’t. Or rather, knowing he doesn’t want her to have to talk about it.
As expected, Percy burrows deeper into the bed. Half his face is squished in his pillow; the sole eye Annabeth can see fixes on the empty space in front of him. He gives her a noncommittal shrug she doesn’t buy. But at least he won’t lie outright.
Silence follows. It nips at Annabeth’s ankles, nagging her to move, to do something, but she decides to sit with the discomfort. The confession he’s suppressing is a palpable thing: Annabeth watches it stutter in his lungs and claw its way up his windpipe. Percy will tell her when he’s ready, and she’ll be here when he is.
“I’ve been having dreams,” he says, still not meeting Annabeth’s eye. That’s okay, though. He’s getting the words out. That’s what matters, right?
“What kind of dreams?”
Percy grimaces. “Not the useful kind. Nightmares, mostly. About the war.” He doesn’t breathe between the sentences, just grits his teeth.
“It’s over, Percy. The war is over. We can rest now,” she tries.
“They can’t.”
Dread settles over Annabeth, but she asks anyway. “Who can’t?”
“Beckendorf,” he chokes, his hand tightening in hers. “Silena, Castor, Lee, Michael—I killed him, Annabeth. I told the others where to go, and they died because of me, but I killed Michael.”
Annabeth opens her mouth to interrupt, but the names keep coming. Percy steamrolls through the tears, leaving her to watch his anger limp along until it collapses into the worn bed of sadness.
“Ethan shouldn’t have been on Olympus. I should’ve hit him harder, then he might have stayed down. And Zoe—I knew she was going to die. We found out who her dad was, and I knew and I couldn’t do anything. And Bianca wasn’t supposed to stop the automation. It was supposed to be me. She could’ve come home to Nico, and maybe then—”
“Percy…”
He shrinks with each word, looking every inch the child Annabeth found on Half-Blood Hill: bruised, tired, and crying for his mother. “My mom died because of me. I didn’t even save her—I saved the world, because that’s what I had to do. Hades let her go, but she still died.”
Annabeth gapes at him uselessly. To love Percy is to know intimately the amount of guilt and unearned blame he assigns himself, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.
“You saved your mom,” she reminds him. “You saved her and the world. You shouldn’t have had to do either, but you did.”
“But I didn’t save the others.”
“No one could’ve.”
“I should’ve. When you fight the way I can, the people who die around you die because you can’t get to them fast enough. If I had just been faster, I...” He takes a shuddering breath. “Why do I get to survive when they don’t?”
A lifetime of war games and war alike, and that question is the worst thing Annabeth has ever heard. Percy is just laying there, still not meeting her eye, and she doesn’t know how to help him.
Terrified of how he’ll answer that question, Annabeth leans down to kiss him before he can. She tries to pour everything into it despite not having too much experience. Kissing Percy so far has been fun, sweet, and definitely trial and error. Nothing this desperate, this needy. She inhales him like she can steal the painful words from his lungs before he says them.
Annabeth tastes tears and pulls back, terrified that she’s done something wrong. Instead, Percy’s hand catches the back of her neck, keeping her close enough for their foreheads to touch. It’s there, inches away from his trembling lips, that Annabeth finds the words.
“You saved me,” she pants. “From the Furies on the bus, at the Lotus hotel, when Polyphemus knocked me out—” her fingers travel to his grey streak— “when we held up the sky, at Mount St. Helens, on Olympus… Too many times to count. From the first day we met, you gave me hope.” She strokes his cheek and wipes away the tears, feeling her own eyes well up. “Every day. You save me every day.”
Percy clings to her hand on his cheek and releases a deep breath, fully exhaling for the first time all night. “You save me just as often.”
“So let me do it now, yeah?”
Percy looks at her, green eyes wet and wide, and nods carefully. Annabeth sighs her relief against his forehead before pressing her lips there with an aching softness. There is more to say, but she takes a moment to just hold him. The Fates deemed her his anchor to mortality, so anchor him she will.
“You survived because you were saddled with the weight of the world at twelve years old and the gods owe you a fucking break.” She looks at the ceiling, almost daring thunder to rumble. The sky stays silent. “More campers are alive than dead after a war with impossible odds, Percy. You saved so many, but you can’t save everyone. None of them would want you to blame yourself for this. We have to honor their sacrifice—and, in some cases, their choice.”
That breaks him. The last of his anger gives way to painful sobs, the ugly kind that squeeze your lungs like a spasming fist. In this moment, he is not the wounded dog, but rather the limp itself: the awkward cadence of his breath reminiscent of limbs struggling to hold new weight.
“What do you need?” she asks. “What can I do?”
The mattress jostles as Percy scoots closer, freeing up part of the bed. “Could you stay here with me? Wake me up if it gets bad? If you have to go back to your cabin, that’s fine—”
He’s cut off by Annabeth kicking off her shoes and crawling into bed behind him. There isn’t much room on the twin mattress, but she tucks her knees into the backs of his and wraps around him, and they fit well enough. She settles quickly to avoid overthinking, glad for the excuse to be close to him.
This is entirely unfamiliar territory, as Annabeth discovers when she tries to figure out what to do with her hands. She’s never spooned someone before.
Percy senses her hesitation and laces their fingers, pulling her arm around his torso. Annabeth squeezes him tight, like maybe lining up their hearts will calm the frantic beat of his. Between that and her body protecting his Achilles spot, she’s got him.
It’s a little awkward, the silence that follows. They haven’t exactly had pillowtalk before, let alone while calming Percy during a breakdown. Annabeth doesn’t know how to hold him to make all that go away, so she clings to him as tight as she can.
“You’re like a boa constrictor,” he chuckles. It’s a wet, half-hearted laugh that tells Annabeth he still has more to say. He’s at his worst when he’s deflecting.
Still, she moves to loosen up. “Sorry.”
He tugs at her hand. “No! I mean, it’s nice. I feel… safe.” He pauses, his breath deep. “I always feel safe with you.”
Annabeth hasn’t kissed much of him apart from his lips, but she liked the comfort of kissing his forehead. She tightens her grip again and presses her lips to his shoulder, just because she can.
“Sometimes they’re about you,” Percy whispers.
Annabeth lays her cheek on his shoulder, trying to see his face. “What?”
“The nightmares. Sometimes they’re about losing you.”
“Percy, look at me.”
The tension falls from his spine as he flips around, tangling further in the mess of sheets. Annabeth smooths everything out for him before laying on her back and tugging him close. He ends up halfway on top of her: his arm around her waist, her hands in his hair, their legs a tangled mess.
She holds his face, thumbs swiping at his cheeks gently. He may be invulnerable, but he’s a fragile thing. Maybe even more so with the invulnerability.
“Tell me about them.”
“What? No. Annabeth, I’m not— I can’t talk about you d— about losing you. I can’t say those words.”
Annabeth just holds his face and his gaze. “You should. Talk about it here, safe, with me, and maybe it won’t be so bad when you fall asleep. I’ll be here the whole time.”
The tension in Percy’s body is palpable as he resists Annabeth’s coaxing. But slowly, she slips her hands to his scalp and massages him there, leeching the stress from his body as he sinks forward into her. His weight presses Annabeth into the mattress. It’s comforting, having him above her. She can feel every breath he takes, every time his heart beats in his chest.
“We’ve almost died a ton of times, but that was always together.” He swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs against her collarbone. “But then on the bridge with Ethan, when you took the knife…”
Percy takes a shuddering breath.
“Sometimes we get you to the hotel and Will can’t help. Or I can’t find Will. Or Blackjack can’t grab you. Or—” his grip tightens around her, and his tears fall on her skin. “Sometimes you, you die right there at my feet. You jump a second earlier, and Ethan hits you in the chest, and I kill him for it. I kill everyone on the bridge. Most times it’s an accident, just the river listening to me, but sometimes… sometimes I don’t know. Both scare me.”
One of Annabeth’s hands moves to his Achilles spot of its own accord. Percy gasps into her neck, where some tears fall as well. He’d fought his way through his confession, coming from somewhere so deep inside him that the deluge of tears was unavoidable. She hopes to distract him from them now.
“You saved me on that bridge,” she reminds him, her free hand scratching lightly at the base of his neck.
“But what if I didn’t?” he breathes. He sounds so small.
“Doesn’t matter. You did. Anything else is a hypothetical.”
“But in the future—”
“Uh uh.” Annabeth’s chin taps Percy’s temple as she shakes her head. “It’s like strategy. You can think and think and think and plan your whole life out, but it’s not real. You never know what’s going to happen until your feet hit the floor. Are your feet on the floor?”
“No,” he grumbles.
“No,” she echoes. “You’re in bed. You get to rest now.”
Percy is still for countless heartbeats. Right when Annabeth thinks he might’ve fallen asleep, he props himself up on one elbow to look at her. Even in the lowlight, Annabeth can make out his puffy eyes and wet cheeks.
“You know you’re my best friend, right?” He sniffles, his nose wrinkling adorably as he does, and his eyes bore into Annabeth’s. “You’re my girlfriend too, but you’re my best friend first. Always.”
Annabeth hears that statement for what it is and grins despite the tears prickling in her own eyes. “And you’re mine. Always.”
A smile breaks out on his face like dawn at this late hour, brightening up the small space between them. Exhaustion sets in to close it, drawing Percy to settle back into Annabeth’s neck with the slow pull of gravity.
They drift off in a bed made to be slept in alone as they share a burden made for one person. Newness tinges the corners of this memory, this moment Annabeth finds herself missing before it’s gone: Percy asleep above her, finally getting the peaceful rest he deserves. Part of Annabeth wants to stay up all night to make sure he gets the most of it, to watch his back as she promised to do, but her eyelids are heavy with sleep in no time.
What sticks with Annabeth is this: Percy’s breath slow and steady against her neck, his heartbeat reliable as ever as it syncs with her own. The world is warm and safe despite all the evidence to the contrary, and that’s what makes this moment untouchable. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, here they are. Together in every way that matters.
#i hurt myself writing this i am not going to lie#if u read this on tumblr all i ask is u give it some love on ao3 bc engagement with tumblr is Trash but i try to keep commissions accessible#commissions#my percabeth#my fic#mericatblackwood
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Let's Fall In Love for the Night
Summary: Will just broke up with his boyfriend. Nico offered some consolation. It ended up with some sort of a confession.
Word count: 2500 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3
Notes: Heavily inspired by "Let's Fall in Love for the Night" by FINNEAS. The first time I heard this song I could only think of Nico pining for Will. And somehow, watching the MV made me think of Will Solace.
***
It was past eleven in the evening when Nico’s phone lit up, Will’s name on the screen. Nico picked it up. Despite the small fluttering in his chest, he forcefully told himself not to feel too excited. It's nothing special. Will could call him any time of the day (or night). They're best friends.
(Didn’t mean that the word friend could sometimes feel so bitter for Nico)
“Hey, ‘Sup?”
“Oh, hey. You’re not sleeping yet?”
Nico rolled his eyes. “As if you don’t know about me and my sleeping schedule.”
“Ah, the one that I’ve been trying to fix?”
Nico snorted. This was one of the topics that they have gone through for too many times.
“Hey, Neeks. I know that it’s late…”
“It is.”
Will let out a laugh. The kind of strained, forced laugh. Nico immediately straightened up on the couch.
“Will? Everything’s alright?”
Will didn’t say anything for a while, but Nico could hear his slow, heavy breathing. Nico clutched the phone in his hand.
“Hey, Neeks. Can you come over? I think I need a pick-me-up” Will asked, voice heavy with hesitation and uncertainty. But as Nico stood up, his answer was a firm one.
“I’ll be there in 25.”
***
Nico hated the sight he saw when the door swung open. The tips of Will's lips curled up into a smile when he greeted Nico. But it's the kind of smile that Nico despised. It was a hollow smile, that didn't reach Will's eyes.
“Go get your jacket,” Nico said.
Will raised his eyebrows, still holding the doorknob.
“What?”
“Go get your jacket. We’re going out. Looks like you need some fresh air.”
“At midnight?”
“At midnight.”
Will sighed.
“Okay,” he said. But there was a small smile on his lips.
Nico smiled.
A few minutes later, Will showed up with his blue jacket and blue beanie (it's a nice color on Will. Not that it's important or anything). He had his ukulele in his hand as he walked out of the door.
“Who said you can bring your ukulele?”
Will shrugged as he locked the door. “Well, nobody said that I couldn’t bring it with me.”
Nico rolled his eyes but the small smile on Will’s lips made his heart forgot to beat for a second.
“I’m ready,” Will said, slipping his hands into the pocket of his jacket.
“Come on,” Nico said. “Let’s go and see the stars.”
***
There was just something about the lights of the city that gave Nico a sense of calmness. That’s why Nico brought Will here, to the hill on the outskirts of the city. They’re sitting on the roof of Nico’s car, legs dangling down as they gazed at the velvet night sky. Nico stole a glance at Will, who was sitting a few inches from him.
Will was leaning back on his hands, looking up to the sky. His profile under the silvery moonlight looked almost ethereal.
Will took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Nico quickly looked away.
“I think you already knew what this would be all about, I guess…” Will said, still looking up at the night sky.
Nico hummed.
He already had a guess. A good guess.
(Didn't mean that he would ever stop listening to whatever it was that Will needed to vent about)
(Didn't mean that he would ever stop telling Will that he should've just walked away and left that piece of shit that for some absurd reasons that Nico could never, ever fathom, had this blessing of being Will's boyfriend)
(Also, didn’t mean that Nico would ever tell Will one of the main reasons why it would be really delightful if Will just leave Octavian)
(Why would he ever tell Will that he loved Will, though? Why would he ever tell Will that he would do everything, anything to call Will as his?)
“But you know you can always talk with me about it, right?” Nico said, stealing another glance at Will before mirroring Will and stared at the night sky.
Will let out a chuckle. He took a deep breath and let it out.
“Well, guess what? I think this would be the last time you hear about it.”
Nico snapped his head to Will, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Will was already staring at him, a bitter smile on his lips.
“It’s over. Or should I say, it’s finally over,” Will said, answering the question that Nico didn’t have a chance to ask.
Nico blinked. His brain frantically trying to process what it meant. Should he feel relieved? Should he feel sorry for Will? Should he-
“Is it the part where I said ‘I’ve told you so?” Nico asked.
Will chuckled but said nothing to that. He looked up to the sky again.
“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he said, this time in a lighter tone. As if he didn’t just tell Nico that he just broke up with his boyfriend for two years.
“Do you know that we’re basically made from stars?” Will turned to look at Nico, sparkles in his eyes.
Nico raised his eyebrows. “Really?”
Will hummed as he nodded. “Yeah. So basically, Carl Sagan, a very cool dude, he said that all organic matters, and that definitely involves us since we’re all made of organic stuff comes from stars.” And Will started to ramble about how materials were formed in the sky and big bang theory and stuff like the nerd he was.
Nico loved it when Will was talking some nerdy shit like that. Or maybe he loved that nerdy shit because it was Will the one talking about it.
After a while, it was another silence. But this time, it was like a comfort blanket, embracing them in this sense of calmness under the stars.
“I can actually stare at the night sky forever,” Will said, and let out a long sigh. He took his ukulele, and started playing some tunes.
Nico raised an eyebrow as he recognized the tune.
“I know that song,” he said turning his head to look at Will. Will looked back at him. Under the moonlight, his smile was soft but his eyes twinkled.
“Sing, then.”
Nico snorted. But Will kept his eyes at his.
“Sing for me, please?”
(Sometimes Nico hated himself for not being able to refuse Will whenever he had that look in his eyes.)
Nico rolled his eyes, but Will’s smile got wider as he knew he got what he wanted without even arguing for it.
“Please?”
Nico huffed. “Oh well, only because you asked nicely,” he said, half-hoping that his fake annoyed tone was good enough.
Will smiled.
(Nico wondered whether Will has ever realized that there were stars trapped in his eyes, in his smile.)
Nico took a deep breath, and slowly let it out.
“I'm blind and afraid, the colors of this sound like a shape,” he started to sing. “The feast of words you never could say, and I'm torn apart.”
Nico kept on singing, next to Will who was playing the ukulele. Nico kept his eyes at the dark night, at the twinkling stars.
(Nico wondered whether Will ever realized that when he smiled, it’s like he had stars twinkling in his eyes)
“You got mirth, I got bravado...” Nico sang the last line of the song softly, almost whispering.
And then silence fell again, blanketed them with peace and quiet.
“It’s late,” Nico finally said after a while. He turned his head a little to glance at Will. The blond guy seemed to be deep in thought, staring at the horizon as he held his ukulele close to his chest.
“Will?”
“How have you been doing, Neeks?” Will asked, turning his head to Nico. But this time, his blue eyes had this intensity that almost made Nico forgot to breathe.
“Huh?”
“Tell me about your life. What have you been up to.”
Nico blinked, and then he shook his head a little, bemused.
Next to him, Will continued talking. “I feel like I’ve been such a bad friend for you. For the last couple of months, it’s always been about me and Octavian and how our relationship sucks. We never talked about you. You never told me anything about yourself.”
“Hey, we talk. About work. TVs. Movies. Leo being stupid. About Jason being madly in love with Piper. We talk, Will.”
Will snorted. “No. We talk about me. About other people. We never talk about you, Neeks.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “What’s there to talk about me?”
(Obviously not about he has been pining for Will for so long. Nope. They would not talk about that)
Will shrugged his shoulders. “Anything. Everything. Just tell me things about you.”
“Like what?”
“Like…are you seeing someone?”
“No.”
Once the word fell out from his lips, was exactly when Nico realized he answered it too quickly to make it sound casual. He cleared his throat.
“I mean, no?” Nico cringed when he realized that this time, he made it sound like a question.
“Why not?” Will asked, turning his head to look at Nico, curiosity in his eyes.
Nico stayed silent. Instead of staring back at Will, he fixed his eyes at his black combat boots.
“Have you ever been in love, though?”
Yes. No. Maybe. Nico didn’t know.
Nico lifted his head up as he inhaled deeply. He let it out in a long exhale.
“I don’t know,” he said. (The only thing that he knew was that every time he heard that stupid word he could only think of Will).
There was another silence for a moment, but somehow, somehow Nico could just feel there is this tension between them. Nico carefully angled his neck, stealing a glance at Will. There was this strange, intense expression on Will's face, like he was thinking so hard about something.
“Will?”
“You’re going to hate me for what I’m about to say,” Will said, suddenly turned his head to Nico. And even in the dark night, Nico could see the fiery intensity in those blue eyes.
It made him shiver.
Nico cleared his throat. He schooled his face into the most nonchalant expression that he could. He’s trained for this. Hiding his feeling was something that Nico did really, really well.
“If you’re setting me up with one of your friends again then yes, I would definitely hate you. I’ve had enough of Jason and Percy shoving some random guys to me.”
“No. That’s not it.”
Okay. This was serious. Will was supposed to laugh at the fact that the way Nico's cousins were way too invested in his love life.
Nico’s brows furrowed. “What is it, then?”
Will’s lips thinned into a thin line as he kept his eyes at Nico. That fire in his eyes burned even brighter.
It made Nico’s heart suddenly race and his brain freeze.
“Nico, let’s fall in love with each other.”
Nico’s heart stopped, and lurched into his stomach.
(It was ironically funny, how he had been dreaming about something like this, yet he could not believe it when it happened)
(Did it really happen?)
Nico blinked. Once. Twice.
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not serious Will.”
“I am. Serious. Really serious.”
Nico stared at Will. His brain froze.
Will bit his lower lip. He shifted a bit. Just a bit. Carefully, he moved his hand, reached out for Nico’s hand and covered it.
Nico wanted to hold his hand back. God, he really wanted to.
He didn’t hold Will’s hand back. He knew better than that. He knew better than giving in to the illusion of calling Will as his.
“I’m serious Nico. I mean it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Can’t you fall in love with me?”
Nic wanted to laugh and scream and laugh because of how stupid, how absurd that question was.
Can’t you fall in love with me, Will asked, when Nico would do anything, anything for Will.
“Will… This wasn’t the right time-“
Will tightened his hand on Nico’s. “Why?”
Nico shook his head. "Will, you just broke up with your boyfriend. You're emotionally unstable right now. You probably think that you fall for me but then you'll wake up in the morning and regret everything-“
“The only thing that I regret is just that it took me so long to realize.”
That made Nico falls silent. He stared at Will, his heart went back into a crazy race in his chest.
Will squeezed his hand. “Okay, maybe it’s not the only thing that I regret. I regret that I was too stupid to realize that I should have broken up with Octavian a long time ago. I regret that we didn't meet sooner. I just…," Will paused and shook his head. "Oh God, I wish, how I wish that we had met sooner."
Nico’s brain still failed him. Which was stupid. So many things were running in his mind right now yet he couldn’t think of any words to say.
“Can I make you fall in love with me? Or at least, can you give me a chance to try my best to make you fall in love with me?”
Will shifted even closer to Nico now, their shoulders were brushing. He brought Nico’s hand that he’s been holding to his chest. Nico could feel Will’s heartbeat and it was just so surreal, like a fragile, vulnerable dream.
“Can you give us a chance to try? To see if we can fall in love with each other?”
Nico held his eyes at Will’s. At the blue eyes that he had been dreaming of for so many nights.
For over twenty years of his life, Nico had made so many dumb and foolish decisions. Was this going to be just another one of those?
Nico closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes slowly. Will was still staring at him with stars trapped in his hopeful eyes.
“This is not going to be something that you will forget in the morning, right?”
Will’s smile was soft and tender as he shook his head.
“No. Mornings are just going to be a reminder of how I have promised that I will show you what I feel for you.”
Nico wanted to say something beautifully eloquent. Something that could make Will understand how much this meant to him. But he knew that words were beyond this.
“Okay,” Nico said. This time he let himself take a chance and held Will’s hand back. “Okay,” he repeated. “Let’s try it. Let’s try to fall in love with each other, from tonight…”
“And promise that we’ll never forget it in the morning light,” Will whispered. He brought Nico’s hand to his lips, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his knuckles.
Will cupped Nico’s cheek with his other hand. Nico closed his eyes, and as he felt Will’s warm lips over his, he let himself fall into this thing called love.
***
Additional Notes:
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated ALWAYS made my day :')
The lyric that Nico sang was from "epitaph" by Hippocampus. I swear I would write another fic based on that song. (Also please listen to that song. It's just a great great GREAT song)
I find it easier for me to write a fic based on songs. So if you have a song in mind that reminds you of Nico/Will, mind to share it with me? I'd love to hear your thoughts about songs that have the Solangelo vibes!
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Breaking Bonds || Morgan & Bea
TIMING: Current
PARTIES: @beatrice-blaze & @mor-beck-more-problems
SUMMARY: Bea invites Morgan over to share a new discovery. The world will not consent to be fixed, but somebody has to try.
CONTAINS: references to Bea’s, Morgan’s, and Adam’s deaths
There were not many people in this world who understood life and death in the same manner Bea did. They may never have been close before either of their deaths, but after, Morgan and Bea were implicitly connected. This connection made Morgan the clearest person to go to about what Bea had found through her research. The kettle let out a shrill cry for attention as the witch finished lining up the tomes she had flagged for this discussion. It was good timing that Bea’s bracelet informed her that Morgan had crossed into the Vural’s property as she began steeping the tea. She went to the porch with a smile, Dia weaving between her legs as she waited for Morgan. “The tea should be ready soon! I hope you don’t mind that I tried to find something you’d like to eat, though I wasn’t completely sure what would be palatable,” She told the zombie, thinking of the container of meat that she had waiting for Morgan, if she wanted it.
It was no small relief to visit Bea at her place. Morgan didn't know her as well as she did Luce and Nell, but she had an ease with Bea that she couldn’t have with the others either. They had died and come back around the same time, and they were both determined to have a whole life as their altered selves. As she came up to the porch to meet her friend, she sighed and let that ease pull away some of the tension her body carried.
“I don’t mind,” she said, smiling with gratitude. “I will try any and everything you have prepared. I literally can’t get food poisoning, so there’s not much to lose. And thanks for having me over. I want to hear all about New York and Felix and whatever else people who haven’t seen each other in a while swap. But uh, you said there was something you wanted to talk about, right?”
Small talk, Bea had almost forgotten that she should be engaging in small talk because she was so excited by what she had found. “Oh yes! I need to hear all about what you’ve been doing too, I’m sure things have been very exciting over here.” And she did, just like she wanted to see how Morgan was, especially since Morgan was taking care of so many people at the moment. Still, that could wait until after.
Bea invited Morgan in, before walking over to the table and lightly touching a book. “But, first, you should see what I found in here,” She couldn’t help the excited tilt her voice took. Flipping open to the first tab in the book she pointed to a line and read,“‘I have found that some of the new undead can be controlled, tamed if the right-hand guides them.’ The wording is awful, but doesn’t that read like I could help people who are struggling with this? You were the first person who seemed right to call about this.”
“Oh, you know,” Morgan said dismissively. “Been better, been worse. Still kind of a mess. But as long as we have each other, or as much of each other as we can, and if we can keep trying to make hope…” She smiled, weighed down by every terrible thing that had happened over the past month, though no less genuine for it. “We have to get to ‘okay’ eventually, right?”
She followed Bea in eagerly. Distractions were good, learning and projects were better. If she was moving toward something, she might still be able to make something better, or at least be better. She came over to the book and looked at the words. Controlled and tamed were two different things, but maybe this meant that there was an under-utilized conditioning process. Use magic at first to mitigate the damage and get them used to things, Let them choose the right thing for themselves later. “With--by ‘this’ you mean undead hunger cravings, right? Like, if I lost myself in front of a dead body, or a vampire was trying to stay off people. Do you think…” Her hand went to her lips as she thought of Ashley the zombie last year and Nico Jemisin in the thrift store. She shouldn’t get too excited, she shouldn’t brew hope over just a stray phrase and an untested experiment. She shouldn’t, she shouldn’t. And yet. “How far have you gotten on this? This could be…it could save so many people.”
A small, sad smile took Bea’s lips as Morgan spoke. She knew that hope as well as she knew her shadows. Before all of this, the necromancer had never had to worry about being okay, she had simply trusted in the universe to balance itself again. Being hit with hardship after hardship had created that doubt in the world’s ability to allow her to have a break. “We’ll be okay eventually, Morgan,” She said softly, “We’ll be able to create our own okay, you’re strong enough for that.” Anyone who had survived what Morgan had already was more than capable of bending the world to her whims.
She nodded eagerly, “That’s what I would intend to find out at the very least. I’d like to think that the word ‘tamed’ would imply that, though I do hate the implication that the undead needs to be tamed.” She had found herself drawn to the power of necromancy at the beginning, the ability to twist death itself to what she wanted. Now, though, after experiencing that power, she had found something softer, something that could change lives, save them. That part of herself she felt had left in death was returning, the part that could help and care for others without asking what they could do for her. She could grant people some form of comfort again, she could help facilitate something beautiful from a hardship. “I’ve marked every mention I’ve found of it, but there’s not much I’ve seen. I think we can write something together on this, we can find a way to get this information out there to help others.”
A piece of Morgan’s heart unclenched at Bea’s reassuring words. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding something in, but she was swallowing tears and so loose in her bones she felt like she might fall over. It had been a while since someone had tried to comfort her, and even longer when she was able to accept their gift without any guilt. Morgan smiled, lips quivering, and whispered, “thank you,” before putting her attention back on the main subject.
“What would you need? In terms of resources or experiments?” Morgan asked. She was self-conscious enough about her now-constant discoloring at all times, but as she considered the possibilities, she felt the hollowness of her stomach too. Morgan shouldn’t be this excited for Bea’s idea. Fuck Odell, and fuck her hold on this cursed town. “Would it...I mean, you’re the expert, so you would know whether it’s safe or too dangerous if you...tested it on me?” She met Bea’s eyes with trepidation. “I’m not high risk or anything, obviously, and a year does a lot for a girl’s impulse control around viscera, but...I wouldn’t say no to some extra help.”
There were many forms of strength that Bea has seen over the years, many of them represented by the women she surrounded herself with. Morgan, she found, had one of the softest forms she had seen yet, but that did not mean she didn’t respect it. If anything, it proved to Bea that she could be strong without violence and anger. Her sisters, for as strong as they were, often hurt themselves from it. Luce with her anger, an all too powerful storm that untethered her, but kept others aware of who they were dealing with. Nell with her fierce strikes, hunting beasts and controlling demons that left her all too vulnerable to the world’s evil. Bea couldn’t always be like them, but she could be softer, she could adopt some of Morgan and create her own brand of strength that did not always mean striking first.
“Well, we’d need an area far from anyone else just in case something went wrong.” Bea wouldn’t risk doing it at her home when her sisters were so close by. She looked at Morgan for a long moment, she trusted the zombie, but it put Morgan in a hard situation if something were to happen. “We can try it on you, but I would want other people there, just in case. Who would you feel comfortable with helping?” Bea had her own list of who they could call, but Morgan was the one being controlled. She was certainly in a much more vulnerable spot. “I think we should start with small portions and then work our way up.” This would be a long process, but it would be worth it to explore the possibility.
“Well, there’s plenty of spots in the woods,” Morgan sighed. “If screaming moose can hide, so can we. Especially on the outskirts, near the border, I don’t think there’ll be anyone for miles.” She wasn’t that worried. White Crest liked to keep its secrets to itself as much as possible. But Bea’s second question was another beast. Deirdre came to her mind briefly, but her love had promised to never physically harm her on purpose and refused to be released. And then, Bea wouldn’t want to endanger her sisters after all they’d been through. Who did that leave? Mina, who barely spoke to her anymore?
At last, Morgan had to admit defeat. “I...don’t know. If you know someone or have ideas, I trust your judgement. You know about discretion as much as anyone, so. But, little bits at a time! That sounds good. Reasonable. It’ll, you know, probably come in handy some time. Even with someone like me.” Or especially, with how things stood at the moment. “You’re the one channeling big magic, so you should probably set the pace. I’ve got that infinite stamina going for me. So I...I can take it. Whatever might happen, I can take it. I want to, if it means having more control over myself.”
With everything, Bea had good and bad days. With the woods, she had bad far more often. She controlled her face as well as she could, only hesitating for a moment. “Let me pick the spot in the forest? I’ll find something in the outskirts for us.” She would pick somewhere far from the place it happened, where even on her bad day she could hold herself together. Her first thought would be to ask Leah to help, but that could be very dangerous for the phoenix. Her sisters weren’t an option. Maybe this wasn’t as easy as she had originally thought it would be. “I could see if Kaden was willing to help.” She trusted him to behave with Morgan, but she had no idea if they were on good terms anymore. “If you are feeling comfortable with that.” That was a good point, Bea had no idea how much energy this was going to take. If it was anything like the other necromancy magic she had done, she was going to need to work her way up. “We’ll go slow, there’s no need to rush what’s going to happen. Especially as we need to get more people on board to help.”
“Of course,” Morgan said. To her shame, she only remembered how much the woods had taken from Bea when she saw the look on the woman’s face. Morgan, for her part, never lingered on the part of main street where she’d felt the sun on her back for the last time, and ice cream trucks made her feel sick and bitter. But these were small things, specific. As much as the spot where Bea died was cursed ground, for all Morgan knew, every dark cluster of trees held the shadow of her trauma. Too late now.
Morgan considered Kaden. She didn’t want him to know she was struggling. She didn’t know how much of his fear and disappointment she could bear. And would he feel guilty for helping? Would he doubt himself? Or feel as though he were betraying himself? But a hunter was a clear and obvious choice, for Bea’s safety as well as Morgan’s own. And the only other hunter Morgan trusted was dead. “It makes sense. If you think he would, and that he wouldn’t...feel wrong or bad about it, yeah. That sounds like a good idea. And you’re right about needing others, strong muscle-y others probably, but don’t know who else is left.” She met Bea’s eyes slowly, knowingly, and ached as Adam’s loss stung once again. She cleared her throat and let the spectre of his memory pass. “Later, when we’ve got the basics down, I’ll be of more help. I’ve got lots of fresh experience with my muscle strength, and fighting off people, living and undead. But, slow and steady first.” With difficulty, she summoned a smile. “Who’d have figured it would take two people like us to make a new magic discovery?”
Oh, Bea thought, Of course Morgan knows. A fragile, brittle smile made its way onto her face. As the days went on, as his loss compounded, the closer she felt to slipping away. She was teetering on a precipice, close to falling over the edge of understanding grief as other people had. Her understanding before had been abstracted at best, a twisted and strange version of an emotion that everyone around her seemed to understand better than she did. A necromancer who had faced death, danced with her, but did not comprehend her affects seemed like an oxymoron. The room was spinning, twisting around her as she tried to focus on Morgan’s words. “Oh, I don’t know it makes sense, doesn’t it?” She replied weakly, “We like pushing and figuring stuff out. We’re fixers.” Fixers in a world that could not be fixed, would not consent to be fixed. Adam had been a fixer too, it was why he was gone.
“Fixers, huh,” Morgan repeated, her own smile turning sad as well. She didn’t think of that word often except in terms of her own shame and desperation. She broke something, therefore she had to fix it. But to hear Bea say it, they were doing something better than hastily atoning; they were solving the world. Not all of it, because no one could do that. But little hurts, difficulties, problems. They knew how to seal cracks in people’s hearts and put in new supports where old ones had snapped. And it didn’t have to mean that any of it was their fault or their responsibility. Just that they happened to know how. They happened to have the strength to try. And when everything broke all over again, they would fix it again. On and on.
The future stretched out in her mind’s eye, a line of patch jobs into centuries. Nothing holding or staying for long. She wondered if Adam had ever seen the future that way, and if he ever let himself dream of a green field and a quiet existence where the only things that needed fixing were fence posts and kitchen appliances, as she often did. She didn’t know which answer was sadder.
“I guess we are,” she said quietly. “I guess somebody has to be.”
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my writing samples!
if you’re interested in commissioning my work (or you just like reading excerpts), i’ve taken some time to prepare writing samples!
more commission information can be found here or you can private message me for further questions!
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💖 dramatic
this is an excerpt from a rangi/kyoshi one-shot i did recently:
Rangi’s exhalation is loud in Kyoshi’s head, but perhaps almost silent in the world. “I used to see you guys around the mansion,” she confesses. “I would… watch you two. It was my duty, of course, to watch him. But not you.”
This isn’t exactly news to Kyoshi. Rangi has spent lifetimes saving her from herself and the world. Her bodyguard before she knew she needed one.
“I know.”
“You wanna know what I thought?” Rangi shakes her head, a strangled bit of laughter escaping her lips. “When I saw the way he’d admire you? I thought… The Avatar and his servant… what a pathetically tragic way to love. So caught up in the power imbalance of it all.”
“Rangi -”
“And then,” Rangi stares up at the sky now, squinting into the brightness of it all. “I fell right into it myself. Only you’re not the servant, Kyoshi. You’ve never been the servant. It’s me. In love with the great and powerful Avatar. Hopelessly and endlessly lost in the difference between duty and pleasure.”
That is absolutely wrong. If nothing else, Kyoshi knows that. “You’re not.”
“In love with you?”
No. That’s probably true, even if Kyoshi still doesn’t know why.
“You’re not my servant. You’ve never been, and you never will be.”
Rangi finally meets her gaze, and Kyoshi is surprised to see a glassiness there, reflecting in the bronze of her irises. She reaches out and runs a hand along the girl’s jawline, gently tracing every scar, every ghost of pain.
“Whoever made me the Avatar was really, really stupid,” she whispers. “You would’ve made a better one.”
“I’m not Earth Kingdom.”
“I don’t care.” Kyoshi knows how the cycle works. And she still thinks the Era of Rangi would outshine any past or future Avatar.
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💖 comedic/light-hearted
this is an excerpt from a jay/carlos de vil one-shot:
“You have a crush?”
Carlos whipped around, staring at Jay who had just come up the stairs. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
“Uh -” Jay blinked, pointing down the stairs. “Downstairs? Look, someone said you go ... oh, you found a friend.” His gaze fell on the cat.
“He’s my new best friend.” Carlos was only half joking. “You’ve been demoted.”
Jay feigned hurt for a moment. On the whole, he didn’t look as drunk as Carlos would’ve expected. “So, this crush of yours,” he said at last. “Is he the reason you agreed to come?”
The irony wasn’t lost on Carlos, and if he weren’t too busy wishing the earth would swallow him whole, he might’ve laughed. “Uh - I don’t -”
“Come on,” Jay laughed. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Mal. What’s he like?”
Carlos made a face. “The one time you’re not hammered at a party, huh? Just my luck.”
Jay shook his head. “Come on, man! Just give me a hint!”
Carlos mimed zipping his lips.
Jay is here. With you, his brain whispered unhelpfully. Not downstairs. Maybe you have a chance.
Jay smiled, oddly genuine. “I get that parties aren’t your thing, ‘Los. Must be one hell of a guy if he’s worth all this.”
“Yeah, well,” Carlos mumbled, picking at a spot on the carpet. “He looks cute when he says please.”
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💖 alternate universe/timeline adjustment
this is a sneak peak of an unpublished equalist!asami/korra fic that i’m currently working on :) so stay tuned for more of this:
“Miss Sato,” a voice called from beyond the reinforced door. “You have a visitor.”
Her father, surely! Or one of his associates. But when door slid open and someone stepped inside, it wasn’t Hiroshi.
Asami turned towards the wall. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Asami, wait.” Korra didn’t try to get any closer. “I just -”
“Just what?” Asami muttered. Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wanted to see me put away? Make sure they’d gotten the right girl? A non-bender standing on the sidewalk at night is so dangerous, see. Glad you’ve got the police force cracking down on the issue.”
She could feel Korra’s frustration and revelled in it. She liked being able to get to Korra.
“No! That’s not! Ugh!” Korra paced, her footsteps heavy. “I don’t have much time! I just wanted to ask you to meet me! Away from anyone listening! Under the Silk Road Bridge.”
“I’d love to, but you see,” Asami gestured around her cell. She still hadn’t dropped the cynical act. “I’m kinda busy at the moment.”
“Your father is already trying to buy your way out,” Korra told her. “You’ll be released before most of Republic City wakes up. I know you, Asami. You wouldn’t… you’re not -”
“Not what, Korra?” Asami finally looked at her. Hard. “Like the rest of the non-benders? One of the good ones?”
“You betrayed us!”
“And you couldn’t save those people from being rounded up like animals!”
Korra opened her mouth, but no words came out. She threw back her head in frustration. “Fine! I’ll leave you alone! But tonight, at midnight, I’ll be under that bridge. I hope you will be, too. I just want to talk.”
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💖 angst/pining
this is an excerpt from a casey/izzie fic:
Casey couldn’t breathe.
She was used to the breathlessness that came with running, the burning and tightening of her lungs as she demanded more from them. But when her feet skimmed across the pavement, racing, racing, like her heartbeat, it didn’t scare her. Rather, she relished it, craved it. The way her whole body felt alive, how she could feel every tingle in her arms and legs, how everything seems to still and grow quiet around her - she loved it.
This was different.
Her vision tunneled, entirely swallowed by Izzie and the boy in the corner who had his tongue in her mouth. The people around her suddenly felt too close and the music too loud. She wished she had Sam’s noise canceling headphones.
Casey wasn’t even trying to inhale anymore as she stared, watching the girl whose lips she’d taken a chance on kiss a boy - a stranger. She could feel her chest burning, could feel the rest of her body screaming at her to take a breath, to do something. But she couldn’t. She could only stare until the need for air became too much.
She gasped, her feet moving against her will. The room smelled like too much weed, stinging her eyes and nose. Casey began to back towards the door.
It wasn’t that she was heartbroken; no, she knew what heartbreak felt like, and right now, that space was occupied by Evan.
This was on her. She’d decided to break off something good and consistent and wonderful to chase after someone who played hot and cold like Evan played video games. She had no one to blame but the person in the mirror.
Somehow, after being jostled around by several other bodies, she made it to the hallway. It was quiet, thankfully, the noise of the party muffled to the pulsing of the base inside the hotel room where she knew Izzie was still liplocked with that tall stranger.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
How could she have thrown away something so good for this?
She wanted to go back to being normal; to the time when she looked at Evan’s eyes and didn’t see Izzie’s reflecting back at her.
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💖 hurt/comfort
this is an excerpt from a nico minoru/karolina dean fic:
“You’re still glowing.” The words came out low. Nico’s eyes flicked up and down her girlfriend’s illuminated body, taking it all in. She knew Karolina could control her light now, which could only mean one thing.
“I wanted you to see it,” Karolina admitted, ducking her head. Now that Nico’s eyes were open, she could see just how much fear flickered behind Karolina’s warm glow. She had removed her arms from Nico now and twisted her hands together in front of herself anxiously. “I needed you to see it.”
Nico swallowed hard, unable to pull her eyes away. The light brought so many emotions flooding back. The first time she’d seen Karo glow. Early nights at the Hostel when the power would short out and Karolina walked around like a glowing flashlight. All the times Nico ran her hands down her hips and kissed her neck and watched her glow brighter than all the stars in the sky.
“I see it,” Nico promised.
“You’re not scary,” was Karolina’s response.
They were words Nico had said many times to Karolina, but never had anyone said them to her.
“Then why am I… like this?”
“Nico.” Karolina shook her head. “Your darkness isn’t evil. It just… is. And I know you can master your magic without the Staff. You’re more than its power.”
“Am I?” Nico didn’t know what she was. She’d been trying to figure it out for a lot longer than she cared to admit.
She was the Dead Girl’s Sister.
She was That Goth Bitch.
She was a loner, an outcast, a freak.
“You’re Nico Minoru,” Karolina said quietly. “And that’s… that’s enough.”
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💖 fluff
this mal/evie moment is an excerpt from longer fic titled In Loco Parentis:
Evie had really outdone herself. She’d managed to put together a figure cutting, sapphire satin dress that fell off the shoulders in the most tasteful way possible. With her dark makeup and striking updo, Evie could’ve passed as at least twenty-five. And Mal had never wanted to kiss her more.
“I’m proud of you,” Mal said during a quiet moment, rubbing the other girl’s shoulders gently. “You look great. You did good.”
“Well,” Evie laughed, tipping her head back. “I did well.”
“Whatever, princess.” Mal’s voice had gone soft, her chin resting on Evie’s shoulder. Unable to help herself, she pressed a gentle kiss there, glancing up to see if she’d overstepped. But Evie didn’t look upset; on the contrary, her eyes were wide and her cheeks pink.
“So that’s what it’s like when a girl kisses you,” she breathed, tucking Mal’s hair behind her ear.
“Believe me,” Mal purred. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” She waited for Evie to correct her grammar again, but instead, the girl pulled Mal gently out from behind her, capturing Mal’s lips with her own.
And just like that, Evie was kissing her.
“You’ve got lipstick on your face,” Evie whispered as she pulled away, doing her best to wipe it off.
“I don’t care.”
“I can’t fail you today.” Evie tugged at the hem of her dress, sighing. “I can’t. Mal, this means so much to you.”
But for the first time in a very, very long time, revenge on her mother was the last thing on Mal’s mind. Evie’s eyes and lips and voice took up all the space, blooming in her chest. “You can’t fail me,” she promised.
And that was the sheer and utter truth.
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💖 single character-centric
this is an excerpt from a catra-centric exploration:
She’s lost count of the nail marks.
When Hordak first threw her in this cell, Catra resolved to count every single tally Shadow Weaver left on the walls. But now that she’s fifty-two marks in - or maybe fifty-three? - her determination is beginning to waver.
She also doesn’t remember Shadow Weaver being locked up for fifty days. Maybe the nail marks don’t represent days at all - or maybe the old lady is as crazy as she is evil.
Lowering her gaze to the green glowing shackles around her hands, Catra tries - not for the first time - to wriggle out of them. Their buzzing is growing increasingly irritating.
How dare Shadow Weaver leave? Did she stop to think what would happen to Catra? Did it even cross her mind that she might be thrown in this cell as her replacement? Or maybe she did and just didn’t care?
Catra’s face twists in a grim smile. Of course her own fate hasn’t given Shadow Weaver any pause. She got what she wanted.
She tries to think back, to find the place where she went wrong - a single moment she can pinpoint where her plans went to shit. But the pieces just don’t fit. Nothing adds up.
Because Catra has done everything right. She’s climbed the ranks. She’s done her job well. She’s accomplished everything Adora could have and more. She’s surpassed even Shadow Weaver’s authority!
And yet, here she is. In chains. Awaiting punishment.
Adora always comes out on top. Hasn’t that been beaten into her since day one? Adora gets to walk away unharmed, with her new best friends and glowing hair. Adora gets Shadow Weaver, despite being a defector, a traitor, a failure!
I would’ve stayed for you.
Catra kicks out with her back foot and pushes away the tray someone delivered to her earlier. She’s not that hungry anyway - and certainly not for brown ration bars.
The tray makes a satisfying clatter as it skids across the floor, and Catra bares her teeth in a halfway smile. If she’s going down, she’s going to go down fighting. She’ll make it as difficult and as painful for Hordak as she can - right until the very end.
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💖 second person
this is an excerpt from a summer/tessa fic i wrote by request:
She’s happy now, you know.
She’s brighter and happier and just really fucking in love.
You can see it. You can hear it in the way she talks and the way her eyes light up when she walks into the room. You notice how she perks up when her name is dropped during casual conversation and how she makes a point of talking about her at every possible offhanded moment.
And honestly, you’re happy, too. You’re happy for her. You’re happy for them. Because they’re just so cute, and everyone says so.
And if you notice that Tessa is wearing her sweater - the one you used to wear because it made her mad and got those sparkling eyes to fix on you for just a few more seconds - you don’t say anything.
Because it wasn’t like the sweater belonged to you or was anything other than a polyester cardigan with a small hole in the elbow.
It’s not like when you draped it over your shoulders, she would roll her eyes and grumble and demand you give it back. Your heart wouldn’t jump, and your mind wouldn’t rush with the adrenaline that came with shooting a snarky response.
It’s not like you memorized the way she used to scoff - that sound in the back of her throat - or how she’d wave her hand dismissively while you wondered what it would be like to hold it and never let go.
It’s not like you’ve ever wanted anything from her - attention or otherwise.
It’s not like that sweater gave you an excuse to touch her shoulders, to catch a whiff of her perfume, to pretend the old sleeves were a good substitute for her arms.
When words finally do form in your mouth, they’re not the ones you want to say. They’re snarky or sarcastic or snide. They’re perfectly in-character for you, the airhead, the fair-weather friend, or just The Bitch.
Plain and simple. Easy to categorize and even easier to overlook.
You won’t think about what it feels like to hug her or how comforting it is to rest your head on her shoulder for those brief, world-stopping seconds - so close you can smell her shampoo and whatever else she uses to make those curls behave themselves. Those moments are meant to be locked away, to be kept safe, where they can’t become anything they shouldn’t. Because the two of you have come so far, but nowhere near far enough.
Yeah, you’re not my type.
It’s confirmation of a dead end.
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if any of these pieces catch your eye and you want one of your own, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me! i’m in the process of working on some really cool commissions right now, and i’m more than happy to add yours to the mix!
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#writing commissions#atla#korrasami#korra#rangshi#kyoshi#the legend of korra#jaylos#descendants#malvie#she-ra#catra#catradora#writing samples#korra x asami#kyoshi x rangi#runaways#deanoru#nico minoru#karolina dean#cazzie#my writing#fics#commission me#lesbian writer
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