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#it’s the only time (as far as I know) Apollo makes the choice on his own to strike against his father

poetglasses · 6 months

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In Defense of Jacks in ACFTL

I do have spoilers, so this is your warning not to venture further if you haven't finished reading.

First off, I love how the story was told and how it ended. Could we have gotten more of the other characters? Yes. Did we really need to? Maybe, but I certainly didn't mind the absence. I didn't think we needed to address every character that we've met. We saw Castor and Lala, and I was happy about it, but I was strictly here for Evajacks story, and that's what I got.

I think Eva and Jacks had character development in this novel.

Eva isn't as trusting and hopeful as she was in the previous two books, and I was happy about it! Girl was getting murder attempted on her, and her husband is a narcissistic, manipulative psychopath. The only people she could trust were 1) being kept away from her or 2) avoiding her because they thought they were doing the best thing for her if they did so *cough* jacks

Jacks watched the girl he loved die! He blamed himself for what happened to Eva, and then continued staying away because he felt guilty and thought he was keeping her safe in doing so. He didn't know Apollo took Eva's memories away. He was too busy making sure Castor didn't go within 10 feet of Eva because Castor did attack Jacks after he went back in time to save her! He was still around Eva, he was just hiding in the shadows or out in the balcony peering through the windows. He genuinely thought Apollo was the better choice for Eva because at least Apollo hadn't done anything to her (as far as he knew).

Jacks apologized to her under the phoenix tree, saying that when he went back in time, he thought the stones would have taken something from him, not Eva, or are we all ignoring that because of that beautiful love confession Eva gave? He wanted our girl to live! When Eva met Castor in the Cursed Forest, Jacks literally put a knife through his best friend's chest in fear of having a repeat of the first timeline! Castor wasn't even doing anything, he was just trying to have a conversation with her.

Jacks was the tortured lover we all knew him to be. He wasn't Jacks, Prince of Hearts, with a trail of deadly kisses in search of true love in this novel. He was Jacks of the Hollow, a man who loved his girl so much he wanted her to live instead of dying at his kiss. We all know how badly Eva wanted to kiss him, and we all know Jacks can hear her thoughts. Can we blame him for staying away? He literally said that if she died again, he could not bring her back. The idea of that was terrifying to him. He already used the stones, and going to Honora would have the possibility of turning her into a vampire, maybe worse.

Jacks felt different in this novel because he finally admitted how much he loves Eva. We've seen him do so many things for her throughout the series. Was he holding back in the other two books? I'd argue not really, but he certainly wasn't going to let her be with him. He didn't want to admit he was in love with her. Dude literally held her like a grudge in the first novel, a secret in the second novel, and then a promise in the third. The hints were there for us. He would literally do anything for her. He just didn't want to admit to himself he loved her because if he allowed himself to there was the possibility that she could die.

Does Eva die in this book? No, thank god. But don't act like you read their kiss scene and didn't fucking break a little when Jacks went "No! Not again".

#acftl #tbona #ouabh #evajacks #jacks x evangeline #stephanie garber #a curse for true love #evangeline fox #jacks prince of hearts #idk what sparked this post but here it is #do with it what you will #all i know is people were saying jacks was acting different #or maybe it was the whole novel but i'll make a post on that later too #I feel like the end just became more of a rant than anything #oh well lol

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missrosegold · 7 days

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someone new

Synopsis: Post-war!AU. It’s the quite moments that Touya enjoys the most. Sometimes he still has a hard time believing they’re real. That you are real.

He has no problems allowing you to remind him of the latter.

Word count: 16K

Paring: Dabi x Reader (fem!reader)

Warnings: Mentions of post surgical interventions, Touya has hints of survivors guilt and some suicidal idealization if you squint, Smut and additional warnings listed below and on A03 so Minors or Ageless Blogs please DNI. This is rated 18+

Playlist: Omar Apollo - Evergreen (You Didn't Deserve Me At All)

Authors notes: Written for @shibaraki Komorebi collab! Thanks for having me love! Hope you enjoy!

Title is from Someone New by Hozier

**You can read it on A03 here if the formatting on Tumblr is throwing you off! I cross-post all my works onto my A03 account!

Sometimes Touya wonders how he got here.

It’s a loaded question and he knows as much. He knows exactly where he is, and he’s painfully aware of the series of events that led him to this moment in time – but he often finds himself struggling to believe it.

A part of him doesn’t want to believe it – a gnarled, still-angry part of what remains of his soul is convinced that it’s all part of some elaborate dream – one that will fade away and leave him alone and bitter once more as soon as he opens his eyes.

He falls asleep again and again, trying to prove his theory, but every time he wakes back up, he’s still in the same place:

He wakes up in your sun-lit apartment, more often in your bed, with you – always close by, never too far away.

It’s where he is even now: nestled into the soft sheets of your—no, the bed you shared together, even though it’s pushing noon on a Tuesday. Despite his body screaming at him to move, he can’t bring himself to get up just yet.

It’s not like it matters if he stays in bed anyways, he doesn’t have anywhere to be. He doesn’t have his court mandated therapy appointment until Thursday, and it’s not like he has a nine to five job like most people do. Christ, he can’t even leave your apartment building without you or a Pro-hero escort with him. (Who, ninety-five percent of the time ends up being Shoto, since he’s about the only person who wants to deal with him these days aside from you, his mom, and sometimes Fuyumi and Natsuo.)

He rolls over slightly and listens for you, trying to hear the tell-tale tread of your footsteps echoing through the halls, or the sound of you humming a gentle melody under your breath as you do your menial chores around the apartment; before it finally occurs to him that it’s a weekday and you’re at work.

He stifles a groan as he finally pushes himself up, and makes his way towards the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, flicking on the light and shutting the door behind him.

That was his biggest problem these days: not wondering when his next meal would be. Not obsessing over ruining his father’s life as he had done his. Not charring himself past the point of no return as a means of exacting vengeance upon the world of Pro Hero’s that had long since turned their backs on him. No. That was all in the past.

For the first time in his life, it was boredom that was getting to him.

That was a joke if he ever fucking heard one.

Looking at himself now it’s hard to believe that he was once a homicidal serial killer, with a rap sheet several miles long.

He looks different now. He fights the urge to snort as he turns away from his reflection in your bathroom mirror while he goes about his business.

Like a snake that sheds it’s skin every couple of years, he’s changed his form once again; though this transformation wasn’t up to him. He had no choice in the matter; what happened to him after the war was decided for him. His opinions be damned. (Though, if he thinks about it, he didn’t really give All For One and his fucked up scientist permission to piece him back together after he incinerated himself up the first time. The irony almost makes him laugh.)

He forces himself to face his reflection in the mirror as he begins the painstaking task of his skincare routine – burning turquoise eyes staring a little too long at who looks back at him.

The worst of his burn scars are gone, though the shadow of them remains. His two-toned flesh has been concealed by pale, raised skin, but he can still see the lines in his face from his first Escharotomy – a reminder of Dabi; always lingering, never fully gone, even if he wears a different face.

The rest of his body is like that as well. No longer is he marred by wicked burn scars and surgical staples; he is one even skin tone now. He is complete by all accounts, even though he feels anything but whole. The skin grafts aren’t perfect – they’re textured and prone to drying out, and the skin around his eyes always looks bloodshot – but for the first time in years, when he looks in the mirror; the person staring back at him actually looks like Touya.

It's not a perfect visual, but it’s still closer than he ever thought possible.

Truth be told, he still has a difficult time looking at himself in the mirror. It’s jarring honestly. He’d gotten so used to seeing the horrific scarring on himself, that seeing his reflection without them makes him feel like he’s staring at someone new.

The skin grafts he received at some point after his barely responsive body was all but dragged off the battle field, still itch sometimes, but he knows it’s all in his head. He can’t feel anything. He hasn’t been able to feel anything since he was discharged from the hospital he been taken to after he collapsed.

His memories of that time are hazy – he had been doped up on heavy narcotics and other nerve blockers as he was subjected to surgery after surgery in a desperate attempt to fix his scorched body – so much so, that he doesn’t know how long he was out for, or how much time passed while he was in recovery.

He remembers Shoto coming to visit him shortly after waking up from the worst of his many surgeries, and explaining that while the doctors had been able to successfully graft new skin onto him, (how his mangled body had been able to withstand another set of skin grafts was beyond him), they hadn’t been able to fix his damaged nerve endings, and had opted to cauterize the few that still worked; leaving him completely numb to any and all feeling.

Truthfully, he hadn’t cared at the time, he hadn’t been able to feel much of anything for years before that, and the little he was still able to feel was nothing but chronic pain, so at the time he has seen the news as a blessing.

And then he met you.

Shortly after that, he found himself cursing the fact that he couldn’t feel anything at all.

-----

He remembers the first time he met you.

After he had been cleared to leave the hospital, he had been taken to a heavily fortified psychiatric ward, eerily similar to the med-bay in Tartarus: all sterile white walls and armed guards. His room hadn’t been much better: just a mid-sized white box with a cot and a small window for him to look out of, though there wasn’t much of a view outside. He had no idea where the fuck he was anyways.

There he had started his rehabilitation.

It was hell. The first few months he spent there, he adamantly refused to speak to any of the doctors or physiatrists who came to work with him. Some were more persistent than others, poking their nose into his past (like he hadn’t just aired his dirty laundry out for all of Japan to witness), and those were the ones he got pissed off at the most.

In another life, Dabi would have had no qualms about turning the doctors to ash, just like he had done to everyone else who had annoyed him in the past, only; he wasn’t Dabi anymore. He wasn’t sure who he was now.

It didn’t help he had been hopped up on quirk blockers that canceled out his quirk, otherwise he probably still would’ve tried to incinerate them. But he couldn’t, and for the first time in his life, Touya Todoroki was fucking cold.

Turns out his quirk did a wonderful job of insulating him against the ice he kept hidden inside his chest all along.

He supposed he couldn’t blame them for rendering him quirkless while at the facility. Hell, he’d render himself quirkless if he was a staff member, having to deal with someone like him. Footage from the fight with his father and the all-out brawl with Shoto had been leaked to the public, showing his quirk’s true power in all of its devastating glory.

He had been told the aftermath of both fights had done irreversible damage to the surrounding areas, and no one was sure if they’d be able to fix the carnage he had created.

Good. The bitter, angry part of himself thought when he had been inadvertently told of the news. Suffer like I am.

He had been kept in isolation most of the time as the doctors tried to figure out what to do with him. His family hadn’t been allowed to visit him yet, and for that he was grateful – he hadn’t been particularly keen on seeing them after his recovery anyways. It was still too soon to face them, and he wasn’t ready to deal with the inevitable aftermath of what was to come. In the meantime, he still refused to respond to any of the medical staff who came to try and work with him, outside of sarcastic remarks and biting jabs that made the whitecoats squirm in their seats, much to his enjoyment.

Curiously, during one of the very few times he did speak to one of the doctors responsible for his treatment; he found himself asking about what happened to the rest of the League. Of course, no one would give him any answers aside from the fact they were alive and they were in custody.

He was more relieved than he thought he would be.

More time passed, and he still refused to open up to any of the staff who came to see him, though he had become more vocal with them – aggressively so – to the point he started to notice there was a continuous rotation of people now; it wasn’t just the same staff he was used to seeing when he first arrived at the facility.

Turns out, even the professionals were still scared of him – quirk or no quirk, his fiery reputation preceded him.

Eventually, the facility couldn’t keep cycling through their therapists, so they had switched tactics. Whether it was out of desperation, or the fact he made so many professionals break down after a session with him, he wasn’t sure, but he can’t say he regrets his actions, because in the end, he met you.

He remembers the day you met for the first time.

He had been forced out of his little cell and taken to one of the treatment rooms where he spent most of his time outside his own room. He had been shoved in there before he could make a snarky retort, and then… he saw you.

You had been sitting on the couch adjacent to the spot where he normally sat during his apptioments. He had been so stunned to see someone new, he’d been rendered silent. You’d looked up towards him, and for the first time since he arrived, you smiled at him.

“Hey.” You’d greeted him casually. He hadn’t responded, still unsure of who you were and what you were doing here instead of the usual staff.

You nodded to the couch across from you. “You wanna sit?”

He sat.

He fully expected you to introduce yourself, but you hadn’t. You’d just leaned back into the couch you were seated on and crossed your legs, giving him a content smile as you regarded him casually.

A few beats of silence passed. You didn’t speak and neither did he. A few minutes passed, then a half hour, and then an hour. Finally, one of the assistants came to bring him back to his room.

He stood up to go but you still didn’t say anything. He’d allowed himself to be taken back without a fuss but, he didn’t think anything more about it. The next day it was the same thing. He was taken out of his room back to the same treatment room, and surprisingly, you were already there waiting for him.

You gave him a little grin and nodded to the couch opposite you, and just like the last day, he sat.

Once again, you didn’t say anything, which was unusual, since all of the other doctors had always started off the conversation, but you sat in silence across from him – the gentle smile never leaving your face all the while.

A half hour of silence passed before he finally broke. “So, what exactly is this?” he remembers his voice sounding dry and scratchy after weeks of misuse. “This the part where you try and butter me so I’ll talk to you?”

You’d grinned at his remark. “No.”

“No? Then what the hell are you doing here? Is this some new technique the therapist’s showed you to try and get me to spill my guts to you? Reverse phycology or some shit?”

“Nope. None of that I can assure you. Actually, if I’m being honest, I’m not even a doctor.”

That caught his attention.

“The hell do you mean you’re not a doctor? How the are you in here then?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

He remembers being completely caught off guard by your answers, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the slightest bit intrigued by you. He remembers squinting at you carefully – taking you in – and for the first time, he saw you. Really saw you.

He could tell that you weren’t lying to him about not being a doctor. You were dressed casually, though you were still covering up a fair amount of skin – no doubt something they told you to do ahead of time. You looked more alive than the rest of the staff in this place as well.

He was loathed to admit it, but you were pretty.

He remembers you flashing him a knowing grin, clearly able to tell he’s been shamelessly checking you out, and it was enough to make him recede back into his shell; his walls going back up once more, as he rolled his eyes condescendingly at you.

“So what’s your angle then?” He’d asked you. “You’re not a doctor but you wouldn’t be in here with me if you didn’t want something from me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was simply here to talk?”

That had gotten a laugh out of him. A short breathless laugh, but it was the first one he’d uttered since he’d tried to incinerate himself along with his father. It felt weird leaving his throat, foreign even, and he’d cut himself off as soon as the sound exited his mouth. So, he settled for snickering instead.

“Really now? You want to talk to someone like me? Why do I not believe that?”

You had sighed, and leaned forward so your forearms were supported on your knees, fixing him with a stern gaze. The intensity of it had made him flinch before he remembered who he was. He returned the look best he could, but it hadn’t deterred you in the slightest. Instead, you sighed again.

“Look I’ll be honest with you: the staff here filled me in on your situation. I don’t know what they’ve told you, but from how it was explained to me; your family wants you back home with them. They’ve made a bunch of deals with the authorities about getting you out of here and not spending the rest of your life behind bars, but you have to successfully go through rehab first. The reason you’re here is so they can determine that you’re not a threat to society or to yourself, but the staff don’t seem to be having much luck getting through to you, and they’re desperate. They sent out a request to bring in outside help and I applied. They picked me because we’re the same age, and well… no one else really wanted to. Turns out most people are pretty scared of you.”

“Fucking figures. And you’re telling me you’re not?”

“Of you? No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not. I’m a little nervous maybe, but I’m not scared.”

That had made him pause. He’d swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling like it was packed with cotton.

“Why’s that?” he’d finally asked you after a moment.

You had gone quiet, seemingly mulling over his question before you finally responded: “I think you have a lot to say. More than you already have, and more then what people think. To be honest, I want to hear it.”

He had laughed again, but this time it sounded forced, even to him.

“If you watched my broadcast then you know it all already.”

“Oh, trust me, I think the whole world saw your broadcast, not just Japan. No one would shut up about it for weeks. But I think there’s a lot more to you. I think a part of you wants to talk to someone else – none of that scripted bullshit – and I want to talk to you. Honestly, I think you’re pretty fascinating.”

He had been very tempted as ask you if you had a thing for villains, but he held off.

“You must be crazy if you find talking to me enjoyable. The other quacks can’t even stomach me, let alone stand to be in the same room as me for more than a few minutes. Just how fucked up are you really?”

You’d grinned and wiggled your eyebrows mischievously at him as you leaned back and spread your arms out along the back of the couch. “The only way you’re going to find that out is if you agree to talk to me. I don’t just give up all my secrets willingly you know.”

It was his turn to go quiet as he thought about your words over and over in his head, taunting him. He hadn’t been in any rush to leave the facility and go back to his old house, even if his mother and siblings were waiting for him. On the other hand, this was the most enjoyable conversation he’d had with anyone since coming to this white hellhole they called a hospital.

He figured maybe he would entertain you for a little while. If nothing else it would get you off his back.

You were lucky you were attractive.

The sound of your voice calling out his surname brought him back to the present.

“Mr. Todoroki?”

“… Fine.” He had finally relented. “We’ll see who you really are, and for fuck’s sake don’t call me that. I’m not my fucking father.”

“What do you want me to call you then?”

“D—” he stopped short. Was that his name any more? Did he get to call himself that after everything was said and done? It was the name he had given himself when Touya died all those years ago, but for some reason, saying it now just seemed wrong.

“…Touya.” He finally muttered. “Just Touya.”

You had smiled at him and for some stupid reason, it made his heartrate pick up. Just a little.

“Okay then. Touya it is. It’s nice to meet you.” You extended your left hand, and he had clumsily fumbled around for a moment before shaking your hand. As soon as your hands touched, and he felt the gentle pressure of your hand in his own, he was struck with the realization that this was the closest to human he’d felt in God knows how long. The other doctors that would come in and out of his cell treated him like he was some kind of feral animal, but you had extended your hand to him without any shred of fear or disgust.

Once you’d both settled back into your respective couches, he’d shrugged.

“So, what now then?”

“Now we talk I guess.”

“About what?”

“I think that’s up to you. The people who brought me in here didn’t specify what we have to talk about, but I am supposed to tell you that I can’t talk to you about the UA students, politics, current or former hero’s, or the League.”

Fuck. It didn’t seem like he’d be getting any answers out of you regarding his former group either.

“…fine. Ask away, I guess.”

To his surprise, you shook your head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m the one doing all the asking, then we’re only going to talk about things from my perspective, which isn’t the point. The only way this is going to work is if you talk to me first.”

That’d had thrown him through a fucking loop. Ever since he had arrived at the ward, all the doctors had done is talk at him, hoping he’d respond eventually. You may not have been a doctor, but you made for a better conversation then any of them ever did.

“…Well… Where am I supposed to start?” he’d finally asked, feeling like an idiot. To his immense relief, you’d simply shrugged.

Wherever you want. From the beginning maybe? It might be easier that way.”

He remembered swallowing hard. “Alright… from the beginning then.”

He remembers pausing and looking up at you, taking you in. “What the hell is your name anyways?”

You told him with a smile, and that was how it started.

For the next year, you came to see him almost every day.

He was taken to the same room where you were always waiting for him without fail at the same time every day. Even though at that point, he’d rather choke than admit it; he began to look forward to your visits – finding that they gave him a reprieve from his mundane existence at the mental ward.

He knew the doctors were always listening and recording everything you talked about during the hour you were together, but he found he didn’t care as much as you managed to keep the meetings interesting.

True to your word, you wouldn’t talk to him about current political events, or any news related to heroes (he knew better then to ask anyways), but you were open to chatting with him about anything that he wished to talk about, even though conversations were often hard for him to start – but you were kind and patient with him, more so than anyone had ever been to him for the majority of his miserable life.

He found himself growing found of you, the little smiles you give him when he’d sit across from you, bringing a hidden grin to his own lips, though he was quick to push it down, never letting his passive façade drop for more the a few seconds, lest his supervising doctors notice and assume shit, as they tended to do.

You may not have been a licensed doctor, but you helped him more than any of the ones who worked at the medical ward did.

There was a gradual shift in your relationship as time passed. Around the six month mark he could feel it, and he was almost positive you could too.

Your conversations had become more fluid, more casual. You were relaxed as you could be around him, and he found himself opening up more and more to you without being prompted. Most times he liked to keep the conversation light, but every so often, he’d tell you bits and pieces about his childhood – before everything had gone to shit. He never bothered telling you about everything that happened after Sekoto; he didn’t want to tell you about the years he spent on the streets, or his time in All For One’s medical center with the other children turned Nomu’s, and to his immense relief, you never asked him to.

In return for his openness, you rewarded him with tidbits from your own life growing up. You didn’t name anyone specific (he couldn’t fault you on that one), but you’d tell him about your childhood and some of the adventures you’d had when you were young, well into your teen years.

He learned that you were born an only child to your parents, raised in a caring household. All the idealistic, quaint things that he had wished from his own family. He’d told you as much one day, prompting you to laugh softly.

“Not always.” You’d told him quietly. “I had my own pressure on me when I was growing up. My parents and I fought a lot. We rarely saw eye to eye – they didn’t agree with a lot of choices I made when I was younger, but it was okay aside from that.”

“Still sounds like your parents were better than mine.” He’d told you with a bitter smirk. “My dad’s an abusive asshole, and my mom—”

It was then he realized that he struggled for words to properly describe her. Broken images from his fire fight with Endeavor had come back to him, and he remembered his mother’s fierce determination to try and cool him down – to save him – even as the heat was melting her flesh. She had thrown herself into the fray to try and stop him from ending it all without a second thought for her own safety. Up until very recently, he would’ve described his mother as weak and submissive, always bending to his father’s whims, even though he knew she didn’t have much of a choice back then, but now… that description didn’t seem to fit her anymore.

“—she used to be a doormat for dear old dad to walk over when I was a kid… but she’s changed. She’s a lot stronger than I remember her being.”

“I saw bits and pieces of your fight with… him.” You’d admitted quietly then. “I saw the aftermath. Your mom, your siblings… they all ran in to save you.”

He’d fallen quiet at that, not truly knowing what to say, but when he looked up again, you had offered him a gentle smile. “I’m sorry if this oversteps a boundary but… they never forgot about you Touya. Even if it felt like they did, they never stopped thinking about you.”

For once, he remembered being grateful that his tear ducts were permanently sealed shut, because he suddenly found himself in danger of crying. The tell-tale prickling behind his eyes caused his face to scrunch up as he pushed the thought of his mom and siblings down. He had quickly forced his expression to go back to neutral, and prayed that you hadn’t noticed the switch, but if you had, you didn’t comment on it – another thing he liked so much about you.

Instead, you asked him something that caught him off guard.

“Have you seen them? Your family? Since you were placed here?”

“No. Didn’t think they were allowed to come here. Why?”

“I think… maybe you should let them come see you – your mom and siblings I mean. Not you know who. I don’t think you’d be doing yourself any favours.”

“Why?” He remembers pressing you. “Have you seen them?” You’d shook your head.

“No, I’ve never met them, but I think it might help if you sit down with them and actually talk to them one on one. You must be getting so bored just talking to me day in and day out.”

“No!” he remembers saying a little too quickly, causing another one of those knowing smirks to creep up your lips. “I—no, you’re fine. I like talking to you.”

“Do you not want to see them?” you had asked him seriously. “Is it too soon? I understand if you’re not ready. That’s a decision you have to make on your own. No one can make it for you.”

“… I’ll think about it.”

Because in truth: there were things he wanted to say to them, and conversations he wanted to have.

In the end, it was you who finally convinced him to let his family visit. They had been cleared to see him at the faculty a few months prior, but he had always declined a visit from them, not wanting to see them so soon, since the last time they were all together had resulted in him almost melting his mother, Fuyumi and Natsuo.

There had been strict rules set in place for his family’s visitations: only one person could see him at a time so he wouldn’t get overwhelmed. they weren’t allowed to talk about outside events with him, and finally, under no circumstance was Endeavor allowed anywhere near the faculty. He was fine with his mother and siblings coming to see him if they wished, but he didn’t want his father to be anywhere near him.

He wasn’t ready to see him again so soon. Even after his apologies. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready to see his father again.

Thankfully the faculty had minimal difficulty honoring his last wish, as it seemed that Enji didn’t want to be around him either – or maybe he was purposefully keeping his distance. Either way, the old bastard wasn’t around him, and he figured it was for the best.

Once again you had been right; seeing his family again had been as cathartic as it had been terrifying.

There had been tears (from his family – he still was unable to cry), and there had been a lot of long, overdue heart-to-heart conversations with them of things that should’ve been said long ago.

It had been hard to sit down and listen to each of his family members without feeling the intense urge to get up and run when the guilt became almost unbearable, but he had forced himself to sit through it all for their sakes (and even his own), and soon he found himself scheduling more visits with his family, as well as seeing you for your daily interactions.

You never prompted him to tell you how his now daily visits with his family went, but he’d told you anyways – not what was discussed, that would stay with him – but he had told you about his favourite visit. Hilariously, it had been with Shoto; something he never thought he’d ever say.

He’d told you about how Shoto had brought him lunch from the outside the day before. It wasn’t anything special; just piping hot udon noodles with vegetables in pork broth. They had sat down in silence and eaten together, sharing a meal for the first time in their lives. Nothing had been discussed, and yet everything had been said.

It had been nice. Comfortable, even.

He remembered telling you with a soft smile on his face, and you had pointed it out, causing him to scoff and wave you off.

“It’s better food then the shit they feed me in this prison. Seriously, that was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Well, once you’re cleared to leave, I’m sure you’ll be able to eat all the udon you want with your brother.” You’d told him as you tucked your feet under you. He’d shrugged, brushing you off, but you were ever observant, and had called him out on it.

“Do you not want to go back to them once you’re able to leave this place?”

It was a simple question in theory, but it wasn’t easy to answer.

He’d shrugged again. “Don’t really know if I can. Not after everything. I won’t go back if he’s there.”

“I don’t think they’d push so hard for you to come back to them if he was.” You reasoned with him gently. “Where would you want to go, if not there?”

You and your questions. Most of the time they were harmless, but sometimes they really made him think. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had an answer for you at that point, and you had quickly switched the conversation topic.

At that point, he’d be lying if he said he was thinking about what he’d do once he was released. Truth be told he hadn’t thought about it much at all. To him, it felt like he’d be in the psychiatric ward for the foreseeable future. He had no real plans for what he’d do once he was out. Maybe he would go back to his old house with his family, or maybe he’d try staking out on his own since that was what he was used to, if he was even allowed to go off on his own. He wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do once he was let out – but he certainly wouldn’t be free, he knew that much.

Maybe he’d try and reconnect with the League – assuming that any of them were even allowed to be released from custody.

It still bothered him on some level that he had no idea about what happened to them after the dust had settled. He had been carted off the battle field before any of them, after his attempt at going nuclear failed, and had been in and out of the hospital and the physiatrist wing ever since.

When he had first arrived, he’d asked the staff about what had happened to the remainder of the League, but they hadn’t told him anything aside from the fact they were alive – but he wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

The only one he’d really trusted in the whole building was you. He knew you weren’t allowed to talk to him about any villains or heroes, but maybe if he asked you discreetly, you’d be able to tell him something more than what the medical staff had. He didn’t want you to get in trouble, but the curiously was eating away at him.

Finally, one day he risked it, and asked you if you knew anything about the fates of his former teammates.

You had paused after he’d voiced his question, and went quiet for a moment, seemingly debating on what you could say to him. For a moment you looked like you were almost about to tell him that you couldn’t say anything, but the look on his face must have been desperate enough that you cracked.

You had given the cameras in the room an unreadable look before sighing loudly. “I don’t know where they are exactly. I never looked into it, and it isn’t public knowledge anyways.” You told him gently. “What I do know is that they’re alive, and they’re in different treatment centers receiving help. I know they were beaten badly and some of your friends almost died – but as far as I know, they’re doing okay.”

You’d then sat straight back up on your chair and loudly proclaimed, “I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to say that much to him, right? Don’t take it out on him or me once we’re done here.”

It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but at least they were alive, and were in similar situations to him. It made him feel slightly less alone.

When the timer beeped shrilly, signaling that your hour was up, you had stood up to leave just as you always did, but before you could say goodbye to him, he’d quickly lunged forward and grabbed your hand, incasing it with his large cold one.

You’d stared at him in shock, as he’d never made a move to touch you once in the six months, you’d been visiting him, but before any of the guards could rush in and pull him off, he’d let your hand drop, but not before muttering a quiet “thank you” under his breath to you, before backing off and allowing the armed guard to escort you out of the room.

He distinctly remembers feeling the pressure of your small hand in his own, but he hadn’t been able to feel anything else aside from that. He hated it. He suddenly found himself hating that all of the nerves in his body had been severed, rendering him unable to feel anything. He couldn’t feel the texture of your skin against his own, or if your hands were cool or warm like his.

He was forced to admit to himself that for the first time since he’d left the hospital; he wanted to feel something again.

He wanted to feel you. But he couldn’t, and it aggravated him more than anything.

There was another thing he remembered distinctly about that day as you were leaving him behind: For the first time since you had started your daily interactions with him; you had looked back.

You had looked at him like you were seeing him in a different light.

He didn’t see you for a few weeks after that. When he had been pulled from his cell, and into the room where you usually met him, he was instead greeted by several doctors that had overseen his treatment when he first arrived.

He had asked them where you were, and when they refused to answer his question, he had immediately become hostile and threatening. The walls that were slowly starting to lower since he first met you went straight back up, and Touya turned into Dabi once more.

For the first time in roughly seven months, he lashed out (quirk be damned), and was immediately taken back to his room and put on lockdown. He wasn’t allowed visitors, and the only times he was allowed to leave his cell was to go back to the same room with the same doctors who poked and prodded him – asking him increasingly invasive questions, until he shut his mouth and refused to speak to them once more. One last act of defiance on his end since he still didn’t have use of his quirk.

When it had become apparent to the doctors and specialists that he refused to speak to any of them, they stopped taking him out altogether. He spent countless hours staring out the tiny window in his room, basking in the weak sunlight and taking in the menial views he could see from his window.

He had wondered where you had gone; if you had been forcefully sent away after he had asked about the League. He hoped that wasn’t the case – he liked you, probably more then he should if he was honest with himself – and you were just about the only person he could actually carry on a conversation with in this shitty place.

A few more weeks in solitary had him about to snap. He had reached a point where he was about to try and strike a deal with the overseeing doctors about bringing you back if he answered their shitty questions, when one of the armed guards opened up his door and guested for him to follow.

Once again, he had been taken back to the same observation room, but to his pleasant surprise; you were there waiting for him.

You had beamed at him and before he could think about what he was doing, he had crossed the room towards you in three long strides until he was standing directly in front of you. He had begun to lift his hand up towards you, only for his action to halted by a curt bark from the guard who was still standing at the door. You had shaken your head, motioning to the guard you were fine and sent him on his way. As soon as the door had closed, he rounded on you.

“You left.”

You had nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips. “I did, yes. Not really by choice though.”

“Why did you go?”

You’d barked out a laugh. “I’ll be honest, the supervisors weren’t too happy with me when I told you about the League. I broke one of their rules, so they told me I had to go for a bit.”

He’d narrowed his eyes, confused. “But now you’re back.”

You’d given him a slight smirk. You turned to sit down on your usual spot on the couch, but this time, instead of having him sit across from you, you’d gestured for him to sit beside you, which he’d done so embarrassingly fast.

“You’re very stubborn.” You’d told him with a light laugh. “From what I was told, you refused to talk to anyone after I left – heard you got downright nasty with some of the staff, and they put you on probation. They called me a few days ago almost begging me to come back. Guess they felt you made the most progress when you were talking to me.”

You’d given him a look that was hard for him to read. “Why did you snap at them?”

He figured there was no point in lying to you – you’d find out somehow. “Didn’t know where you went. Fuckers wouldn’t tell me, and they kept prying into my shit. Didn’t want to talk to them so they put me in solitary.”

He remembers you looking sad at his answer. “I heard you were in there for several weeks. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen to you. Not on my account. I didn’t… I don’t want to be the reason your release got delayed.”

For some reason, it bothered him that you blamed yourself for what happened, and he reached out to gently take hold of your wrist. To his surprise, you hadn’t stopped him, or made any move to pull your hand away from his, so he allowed himself to rub circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, even though he couldn’t feel it.

“Not your fault. Don’t worry about when I’m getting out. It’s not like it really matters anyways.”

“Do you know why they were pushing you so much?” you’d asked quietly, still not making any more to remove yourself from his hold. He’d shook his head and you’d simply leaned into him, damn near making him freeze up in surprise at your boldness.

“They told me that they’re planning on releasing you soon – with restrictions of course – but they were thinking that you’d be able to leave here sooner than expected. That was before your outburst, but if you’re willing to just hear them out and answer their questions, it’ll help speed up the process.”

“They seriously think that I’m fit to send out into society again?” he remembers scoffing, hardly believing what he was hearing. “Pretty sure the majority of them think I’m an irredeemable sociopath.”

“They’ve seen the way you act around me and your interactions with your family. You’re not perfect, but you’re trying, and sometimes that’s all you can do.”

“You do realize I have killed people, right? I’ve maimed countless others. They’re… not exactly wrong about me.”

Surprisingly, you’d simply rolled your eyes at his statement, acting like he’d just told you the sky was blue. “Of course I know that Touya. I’m not overlooking what you did. But they—your family – are fighting hard to try and get you another chance, a fresh start. They think you deserve it, and they’re out there right now, day and night, trying to convince others that you deserve a second chance too.”

You had twisted your hand in his so your palms were kissing, fingers laced together, and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears as you gave him that damn smile of yours.

“You’re right: the past never dies, but that doesn’t mean that it has to be your future as well.”

That simple statement had stunned him. For the first time in a long time, he hadn’t had anything to say in response to you.

He remembers fighting an internal battle in himself, trying to find something to say to rebuttal what you were telling him. A part of him understood why his family was fighting for his uncertain future outside the psychiatric ward, but on the other hand… he didn’t necessarily believe that he deserved it.

What kind of life would he be able to have even if he was allowed to be released? He had never planned on living this long, as morbid as that was. His original goal had been to go out in a fiery hell-blaze with his bastard of a father, but clearly that hadn’t happened. He was known a global terrorist, the right-hand to the symbol of fear. His quirk was legendary for all the wrong reasons. How could he possibly be allowed to live on the outside? There was no way the rest of Japan wanted him released, let alone wandering around. What kind of future could he possibly be allowed to dream about? Did he even dare to think about it? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what he might do if he was ever allowed out of the ward from time to time, but now that his impending release seemed like more of a possibility; he was starting to think maybe it was better for everyone – and maybe even himself – if he stayed locked away.

Thankfully, you and your perspective nature had picked up his internal struggle. You’d leaned into him and taken his hand in both of your own, allowing him to breathe again.

“What do you want Touya?”

What did he want? Christ he wasn’t sure.

“I… don’t know. Honestly: I never planned on living this long from the get go. Everything has always been decided for me. I kinda figured that this would be the same.” He had admitted quietly, the gentle pressure of your hands on his own, grounding his rapid thoughts.

“Do you think you’re ready to leave soon?” You’d asked him gently, prompting him to laugh, a bitter, ugly thing, but you hadn’t flinched.

“No.” he’d admitted after a moment, scrunching up his nose. “Dunno if there’s much of a point. I’ll never be free. No matter where I go, I’ll always be a prisoner. What kind of life could I even have outside of here? I don’t know how to live any other way aside from how I’ve been living since I escaped that damn—” he’d cut himself off last minute, reminding himself that you didn’t know about All For One’s hellish medical facility he had woken up in, and he had no plans on telling you about that.

“I just…” he remembered breathing out hard through his nose as he tried to collect his thoughts, focusing on the faint heat he swore he could feel emanating off your hands and leaching into his cold skin. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if they decide to let me out. Dunno if I can go back to the old house after everything that happened, and I’m not sure if I could bring myself to live with my mom or my siblings after… well, you saw bits of what happened on TV already.”

He hadn’t needed to say it for you to know that he felt a tremendous amount of guilt towards his mother and siblings – especially Fuyumi and Natsuo – for nearly charring them in the heat of battle. He may have held onto so much resentment and anger towards his family for his mistreatment as a child, but he was also self-aware enough to know that it hadn’t been their faults, and they had tried to help him in the only ways they knew how.

You had been quiet as you let him vent to you. You hadn’t said anything for a while afterwards as you mulled over what he’d told you. Finally, you had nudged his shoulder with your own.

“I think that everything you just told me is proof enough that you deserve a chance to have a life outside of these walls.” You admitted. “What you said isn’t something an ‘irredeemable sociopath’ would say. That’s something a self-aware person says. You’re not perfect Touya, but Christ if you’re not trying. I can see it, your mom, sister and brothers see it, and I think a lot of your other doctors are starting to see it too. I think there’s a point, even if you don’t think there is.”

In that moment he’d been convinced that if he could cry, he would’ve been.

“Yeah? Well, thank you sweetheart.” He’d muttered into your hair, fighting hard with himself to try and keep his voice steady. “I have no fucking idea why you’re so nice to me, but it’s… yeah.”

“I think someone needs to treat you like a normal human being, because I don’t think anyone did for a long time.” You’d looked up at him pointedly, but he’d seen traces of something else in your eyes when you’d asked him, “Did they?”

A simple flat look from him had been answer enough for you, and prompted you to squeeze his hand. “Didn’t think so.”

You’d both lapsed into a comfortable silence aside from the steady ticking of the clock, and he’d known without looking up that your time with him was coming to an end. Now, he was dreading it more then he normally would’ve been. You’d spoken up again, but what came out of your mouth next, had shocked him.

“When you’re released… If you’re still unsure of where you want to go afterwards… I could… if you can clear it with the people overseeing your progress once you’re cleared to leave… Maybe… you could come stay with me.”

He remembered staring down at you, shocked. “Is that even allowed?”

You’d shrugged in response. “I’m not sure. I think you’re going to have to initially stay with your family for a while, but if you’re really having a difficult time staying there… maybe I could work something out with your family, as long as it’s approved. It’ll probably take a while, but I can try.”

He had a difficult time allowing what you were implying to sink in. How? How could you be so trusting? To even suggest the idea of someone like him staying with you? Forget if it was even possible or not, the fact you’d even offered in the first place was mind-blowing. Before he could think about what he was saying, he’d voiced his thoughts to you:

“I’m sure your parents would be thrilled, you bringing a villain back to your home.”

You’d simply given him a small smile. “I’m sure they wouldn’t like it… if they were around that is.”

“Oh. They not in the country, or—”

“We’ll go with that.”

Ah. Seemed like he wasn’t the only one with secrets. That was fair, you were allowed to have your own. He wouldn’t pry.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

You’d both fallen back into the same silence from before. You were still leaning on him, his hand trapped in your smaller one, yet he’d made no move to remove it from your grasp. Honestly, he was shocked the guards from before hadn’t barged into the room and forced him away from you. The close proximity must have been violating a rule of some kind, and yet no one had made any move to separate the two of you, Maybe the medical staff really had been as desperate as you’d claimed, and were willing to let some things slide. Either way, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re a lot colder than I thought you’d be… with your quirk being what it is and all.”

He’d glanced down at you, only to see you staring down at your intertwined hands. You’d squeezed the appendage again, prompting him to respond.

“It’s the quirk suppressors. Haven’t been able to use my quirk since before I got here. The quacks made it so I’m hopped up on suppressors around the clock, just in case. Turns out I’m pretty fucking cold without my flames. Must be from the ice side, but I can’t use that either.”

“Well, maybe if you keep being nice, you won’t have to be on them indefinitely.” You had tried to give him a hopeful smile, but he knew what the likelihood of that happening was, and you must have too, since you didn’t say anything else on the matter.

The timer had sounded then, signaling the visit was over. Before the guard could come to collect you, he’d quickly pulled his arm out of your grasp, and had wrapped it around you tightly, much to your initial surprise. He’d begrudgingly let you go so he could help you stand, sending the guard at the door a pointed look as he’d seen him casting an unsure look between himself and you. You hadn’t been the least bit bothered by the anxious glances the guard was trying to send you as you stood slowly and sent him one of your little smiles he’d come to expect from you.

“You’re coming back?” he’d blurted out before he could stop himself.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time.” You’d told him confidently as you’d turned to leave, brushing your knuckles against his. “Don’t worry Touya. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since someone had promised him anything in a very long time, he’d believed you.

In the end, you’d kept your promise.

It had taken close to another year before he was allowed to leave the psychiatric facility (some minor setbacks had pushed his initial release date back), but you had come to see him almost every day at the same time.

Over that time, you’d grown exceptionally close to each other, even more so from when you’d first started visiting him initially. It was almost impossible for him not to grow attached to you – you were his constant source of company, his companion. You were the one person he could tell anything to and not have to worry about being scrutinized for his thoughts. You were his safe space – something he’d never thought he’d ever say about someone else – and once he’d worked out how he saw you; it had been game over. He’d fallen for you fast and hard before he’d realized it, and by the time he did, it’d had been too late. He was hopelessly and utterly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame.

Surprisingly, you’d felt the same as him.

You’d openly admitted it to him one day near the end of his stay at the ward – even at the cost of possibly being prevented from seeing him again, since both of you knew you were crossing boundaries you hadn’t been meant to cross. He’d warned you as such, heart pounding in his ears at your confession, but you’d told him that he’d deserved to know with a simple shrug.

“Besides; if you keep up the good behavior and don’t have any more outbursts, you’ll be out before the end of the year anyways. Even if they don’t let me back after this – you can find me on the outside.” You’d told him matter-of-factly, boldly taking his hand in your own, before sending a shit-eating grin to the cameras set up around the room – knowing the doctors were monitoring every move.

He'd been certain that he could’ve kissed you right there and then.

Surprisingly, the medical staff had allowed you to continue coming back, even though it was apparent both of you cared for each other in ways that crossed professional boundaries. As much as the doctors were against how close the two of you had become, they couldn’t deny how far he had progressed since meeting you. He had gone from being the bitter, angry husk of a man, to someone who was still, and would always be forever scorned by the past, but overall, in a better place mentally.

Not too long after he’d sorted out his own feelings for you, he’d made you a surprising request:

He wanted you to meet his mother and siblings.

The meet up had taken almost a month of careful planning on the medical staff’s end, and had initially been met with some hesitation on both sides, but eventually you had agreed to it, and you’d sat down with him and the members of his family who he kept in contact with.

His father hadn’t been invited for obvious reasons.

The medical staff had allowed him out of his normal room so he could meet with you and his mother and siblings in one of the spacious sitting rooms normally reserved for guests. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined the far wall, allowing him to get a view of the outside gardens. He remembered the outside weather was slightly overcast that day but warm rays of sunshine would occasionally stream through the gray clouds, as you and his family slowly met with one another under his watchful gaze.

His mother had taken to you almost immediately, as well as Natsuo – both seemingly happy he’d bonded with someone who was relatively normal – Fuyumi and Shoto had taken a little more convincing. Shoto was more curious of you, while Fuyumi had been downright distrustful. She’d asked you right off the bat what your intensions were with him, but he’d seen right through her: she was concerned that you were somehow affiliated with the now disbanded League, or maybe even the Paranormal Liberation Front.

Thankfully, you weren’t so easily put off by her upfront questioning. You had been calm, almost amused, as you answered her questions; reassuring her that you were in no way affiliated with any criminal organizations, and how you were someone who’d been presented with an opportunity to help with his rehabilitation, and had taken a leap of faith when no one else would.

“Why though?” he remembered his sister pressing you. “Why would you want to help him even after knowing everything he’s done?”

You and him had shared a look then, and he’d known what you were thinking before you said anything.

“I guess I wanted to understand why things went so wrong.” You’d told her honestly, your shoulder brushing with his as you spoke. “I wanted to get his side of the story – the unscripted one. When the chance to talk to him in person came up, I took it. Everyone deserves to have their story told, and I wanted to hear his.”

“You’re a lot closer than just a support person to him.” Fuyumi had countered, making him bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from snapping at her to back off with her invasive questioning, knowing that he’d only land himself in trouble with the medical staff overseeing their visit if he had any outbursts.

To your credit, you’d simply shrugged, totally unbothered by her statement. “Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you see someone basically every day for over a year. Same time, same place. For as clueless as he is at normal relationships, your brother can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

He’d been pretty sure the only reason you were outright lying to his sister was to try and make him look better in her eyes, but he almost hadn’t been able to stop the laugh that threatened to escape past his lips. Almost.

His sister had almost deflated then. Whether it was from disappointment in being unable to shake you, or relief, she’d simply nodded; finally accepting your answers.

“Well… if he’s happy… then that’s all any of us really need, I guess.”

The rest of the visitation had gone incredibly well, not that he was complaining. Plans for future meetings had been put in place, and from there, you and him had gotten into a semi-regular routine of seeing his mother and siblings, or whoever was available to come.

He never wanted to admit it to you, but the visitations you helped arrange with his family made his transition from the psychiatric hospital to his eventually moving into his mother’s new house after he’d been cleared for release, far smoother than he thought it would’ve been.

Eventually though, he was proven right about his earlier assumptions on living with his family – or rather – his mother and his siblings, again after so long:

He couldn’t do it. It felt almost wrong.

He’d felt like a ghost, wandering up and down the halls, looking at the pictures that lined the hallways of his mother’s house; comprised largely of his younger siblings. He’d watched as they had slowly grown up in each one, filling him with sense of melancholy.

He’d missed the opportunity to watch them grow up. They’d done that without him. That was time he couldn’t get back – memories that weren’t there.

He’d felt isolated, and no amount of comfort or reassurance from his mother could change that deep-rooted feeling in him. Not even Natsuo’s constant presence in the home made him feel better, much to his younger brother’s disappointment, though thankfully he understood.

He’d lasted two months before he’d finally cracked and called your number which you’d given him immediately after he was released. You’d both stayed in contact, texting every day (under strict monetization from police tech sectors), but you hadn’t been able to see him in person since he’d gotten out, as you’d both agreed that it would be better if he focused on trying to settle into his new home. He’d missed you terribly during that period – not used to not seeing you for such a long period of time.

He'd called you in the dead of night, and asked if your offer to have him come stay with you was still open. From there, you’d gotten in contact with the authorities in charge of his release to try and gain permission for him to come live with you, while he had the difficult task of trying to explain to his family why he couldn’t stay with them any longer than he’d already had.

As expected, you’d been met with resistance on both sides, but eventually his overseers had come to an agreement: he would be allowed to live with you, but he always had to have a tracking monitor on at all times, he had to be on constant quirk suppressors, he couldn’t leave your building without you and a Pro hero escort of some kind, and finally, he had to attend mandatory therapy sessions at least once a week, as well as call his probation officer weekly and give them updates about what he was doing. If he failed to meet any of the rules set out for him; he’d earn himself a one-way ticket to Tartarus, no questions asked.

As much as he’d wanted to argue some of what they wanted from him, he’d agreed to their stipulations, knowing full-well unless he agreed to their terms, he’d be stuck at his mother’s for the rest of his life, and while he didn’t hate living with her and his siblings, it was too awkward for him to try and face them every day, knowing his past atrocities towards the rest of the country and even them, would continue to haunt him for the rest of his days.

He couldn’t pretend that he was still the same person he was when he’d burned up at the tender age of thirteen. He was different, older, harder. Things would never be able to go back to what they’d once been, and honestly: he didn’t want them to. He couldn’t go back to living with them after such a long time apart, because he had no idea how to co-exist with them normally.

Thankfully, as much as he knew it hurt his mother to hear him express his innermost thoughts, she seemed to understand how he felt the most, and had simply told him that he was always welcome in her home, and she still wanted him to come stay with her from time to time.

“You’re my son Touya. No matter how old you get or no matter what you do, you’ll always be my baby.” She’d told him gently just before he’d left her house, wrapping him into a tight hug.

Sometimes he found himself grateful he couldn’t cry anymore. He’d just wished this side of his mother had been more prominent over ten years ago. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently if it had.

He’d seen you then for the first time in several months when you’d come to pick him up. He’d managed to keep himself calm while you spoke to his mother, but secretly he was elated to see you again after months apart. His excitement over seeing you again had probably shown on his face, since you’d made it a point to keep yourself close to him as his brothers had moved his important possessions into your car.

It was as you were talking to his mother; he’d learned that you had moved to a new apartment building some weeks ago, following the news that one of Japan’s former most wanted was coming to stay with you. Naturally, the people in your old building hadn’t been pleased, so you’d forced to switch buildings to an apartment located near several hero agencies, where the residents hadn’t been as concerned about an ex-super villain moving in, due to the multitude of patrolling heroes in the area. The change had been frustrating for you, but it was the only way he’d be able to stay with you without anyone kicking up too much of a fuss.

Eventually you’d both been on your way back to your apartment with Shoto in tow to help with moving his things into your apartment. Your new place wasn’t massive, but it had two bedrooms and a decently sized living room and kitchen. Shoto had helped him set his things up in the spare bedroom before departing, but not before giving you his number with instructions to call him if you ever needed help.

As soon as the door had shut, he’d been on you.

He’d slammed you up against the door, causing a started yelp to escape your lips, as he grinned down at you wolfishly.

“What’s the matter sweetheart? Nervous? It’s not like we haven’t been this close before.”

You’d turned beet red as you shyly traced your fingers up his chest. “No, but we certainly haven’t done this.”

He’d grinned as he dipped his head down so you and him were eye to eye. “Tell me no then. Tell me you don’t want this, that you don’t feel the same as me.”

He’d listened to your breath hitch, watching with delight as the flush deepened on your cheeks. “You wanted me to talk right? To be open with you about how I’m feeling? Well, I want you, and I think you want me too.”

You’d looked up at him through your lashes, reaching up to lace your hand around his neck. “I do.” You’d told him gently, and your simple admission had made up his mind.

“Fuck.” He’d muttered, just before he’d dipped down and captured your lips with his.

The effect had been instantiations. His lips molded with yours, breathing in your air, as his hand cupped your cheek, long fingers curling around the back of your neck to keep you close to him.

You’d slowly peeled yourself off the door and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pulling him with you further into the apartment, and into your bedroom. You’d managed to slam your door shut, just before he’d pushed you onto your bed – his lips never leaving yours as he pressed you further into the mattress.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you as you helped him take your clothes off. He could touch you, really touch you the way he’d wanted to for so long now. Nothing was there to hold him back, no cameras, no guards, no medical staff dictating his every move. It was just you and him.

He’d almost froze when he’d seen you’d laid out bare beneath him, soft and glowing against the pale sunshine streaming in from your bedroom window, warming your frame. You’d beamed up at him, tracing your hands up his arms.

“You can touch me.” You’d told him gently. “I trust you. Just be gentle.”

Gentle. Now that was a word he was certain he didn’t have in his vocabulary – but for you, he’d try.

He’d traced your curves gently, listening intently as your breath hitched, or how a small moan would escape past your lips when he touched a particularly sensitive area. Finally, you’d reached up to tug at the hem of his shirt, but he’d grabbed at your hands, making you pause.

“It’s not… I’m not… the scars… aren’t much better under there.” He’d tried to warn you. You’d given him a gentle smile, cupping his cheeks with your hands.

“I don’t mind Touya. You know I don’t care about all that.” You’d smoothed your thumbs over the raised skin of his face. “I love you for you. Regardless of what you look like.”

Love. You… you loved him, didn’t you? Even after everything he’d done while he was an active criminal – you’d somehow grown to love him, while most of the world hated him.

He didn’t necessarily think he was deserving of your love, but hell if he was ever going to point that out to you. He’d almost been tempted to ask you if you were a little bit crazy yourself, but you’d even told him when you had first met that he’d have to find that out for himself.

Maybe you were – just a little bit – but that suited him fine.

A normal girl would never have been able to handle him anyways.

He’d allowed you to help him out of his clothes then, and to your credit, you hadn’t batted an eye at the less than perfect skin covering his body. He may not have been held together by surgical staples anymore, and his body may not have been a mess of burnt patchwork skin like it used to be, but the new skin grafts were raised and patchy – never fully settling properly. It wasn’t often that he got self-conscience about how he looked, but you were different.

You had run your hands up and down the length of his body and marveled him like he was some work of art. He didn’t think he was, but you clearly saw him differently. You’d kissed his marred skin, and if he’d been able to cry, he would have.

You had pulled him down onto your bed and climbed on top of him, much to his surprise. He’d tried to prop himself up, only for you to gently push him back down onto your mattress, giving him a knowing smile all the while.

“Let me take care of you.” You’d whispered to him softly. “We’ll go slow. Gentle. It’s just me and you now.”

It wasn’t like he’d never fucked someone before, but it had been a while, and it was just that: he’d fucked, never loved. He wasn’t sure if he knew any other way when it came to sex, but he knew that he didn’t want to be rough with you like he’d been with his past flings, and so he had relinquished control to you.

He had allowed himself to relax into the mattress as you’d hovered above him, lining him up with your entrance. He was already painfully hard, his body reacting to yours as soon as he’d kissed you. You’d bent down to kiss his throat, relishing how he’d let out a shuddering breath as you’d sunk down onto him. He’d cursed as your tight heat had enveloped him, leaving him boneless and shaking.

He’d brought your face down to his to kiss you as you started moving, moaning as you slowly moved up and down on his shaft. You’d knocked the breath out of his lungs as you whimpered against his lips, still moving your hips against his own.

“Shit.” He’d growled as he’d reached up to wrap an arm around your hips. “Fuck baby. You feel so good. You’re so good for me.”

“You feel so good.” You’d sobbed. “I want you – want to make you feel good.”

“You do. Fuck you do. I want you. I need you.” He’d grunted as he planted his feet into your bed, pistoning his hips up into your body.

“Fuck.” You’d cried out, as you continued to bounce on his cock. “Touya!”

“I’m here. Fuck I’m here, with you. I love you.”

He’d remembered your eyes blowing wide at his confession, just before your body had stiffened up, and your mouth had opened up into a silent scream, as your orgasm had ripped through you – your end triggering his own.

You’d both stayed there for a moment, trying to regain your breath, before you’d slowly separated yourself from him. He hadn’t let you go far – pulling you down to lay beside him, and wrapping himself around you as you nestled into the broad expanse of his chest.

“Stay.” He had rasped as he held you close to him, curling around your smaller frame protectively. He’d known what he was saying was nonsensical – he was in your apartment, you weren’t going anywhere, not really – but thankfully, you seemed to understand what he was trying to say without him outright telling you. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Touya.” You’d breathed, placing a kiss on the side of his temple. “You’re home now. With me.”

That simple sentence had brought him more comfort than he’d experienced in recent memory. He’d passed out sometime after with you still nude and curled into him, sharing in his warmth.

That had been the best sleep he’d had in years.

After that, he’d fallen into a steady routine of normalcy with you. You’d go to work, while he’d keep himself entertained during the day. Normally, he’d open up the windows in your living room and perch himself on the couch near them, soaking up the feeling of gentle sunbeams on his face, and watching the outside world go by as he waited for you to return later in the evening. You had set up therapy appointments for him every Thursday, and either you or Shoto would take him depending on your schedules. Life settled down, and the outside world continued on around him, even though his world now consisted of your apartment and what he could see outside from your windows.

It wasn’t a coincidence that three pro heroes moved into the building roughly a month after he had moved the last of his menial things into your apartment.

He couldn’t say that he was surprised by the less then subtle way the newly reformed hero commission chose to keep an annoyingly close watch on him, but he was still allowed some freedoms with you, so he figured he could keep his jabs to himself for the time being.

All and all, life with you was simple easy. For the first time in his life, he could say he was appreciating the little things he never could’ve before his life had turned into a living hell.

For the first time in a very long time, he had hope – something he’d never allowed himself to have before, because what had been the point? He had fully planned on taking himself out in the final fight against Endeavor… but life was strange, and it turned out that it had different plans for him.

While he couldn’t be sure what those plans were yet, they had brought you to him, and that was enough.

He had you, and in the end, that’s all that really mattered—

-----

The sound of one of his skin care products hitting the floor snaps him out of his reprieve. He blinks, and once again, he is standing in your bathroom with the sink running, halfway through the skin maintenance routine that you forced on him once he came to live with you.

He swears under his breath as he bends down to retrieve the plastic tube with his right arm, only to freeze as he suddenly remembers:

His right arm is gone. He tore it clean off in the brawl against his dad.

He finds it surprising how often he forgets he doesn’t have both his hands anymore. Half the time he swears that his right arm is still intact because he can feel the damn thing, only to look down and see it’s still gone from mid bicep down. You once called it a ‘phantom limb’ and he thinks you might be onto something with how often he’ll go to do something with his right, only to remind himself the arm doesn’t exist anymore.

It doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Natsuo had offered to set him up an appointment to get him fitted for a prosthetic, but he hadn’t made up his mind on it yet – finding most things pretty manageable even with the lack of his right arm – but he does have days where he wishes he had all of his limbs, and there are certain tasks were having two hands would be more useful than one.

His extensive skin care routine is one of those tasks.

Hilariously, it was one of the conditions of him coming to stay with you initially: for the first time in his life, he was being forced to look after himself.

He had protested initially when you had come back home one day with a plethora of different specialty products for sensitive skin – not seeing the point – but you had insisted that he use them to take care of the newer skin grafts, telling him that if he wanted to continue to stay with you, he’d have to start properly taking care of himself, or you would do it for him.

He had begrudgingly accepted, and he gradually incorporated it into his daily routine. Realistically, he knew he didn’t have much to complain about: he didn’t have many responsibilities as it was, and you had promised him if he kept up with it, you wouldn’t tell his parole officer that you weren’t forcing him take his quirk suppressor medication – one of the conditions of his release.

He grins inwardly to himself as he turns the sink off and pats his face dry. You hadn’t seen the need to enforce that particular rule, seeing how you were quite confident he wasn’t going to burn down your apartment building, and he didn’t have any plans to – lest he be forced to return back to his mother’s home.

Besides, after spending over a year feeling unnaturally cold without his quirk, he was in no rush to return to the weak, powerless state the psychiatric ward had left him in. Even if he couldn’t use his quirk to it’s full, destructive potential like he used to, just knowing that he still had use of his quirk intact was a comfort to him.

He makes his way out of the bathroom, flicking the light off behind him and, pads over to his side of your shared closet, stripping out of his sleep clothes and pulling on a loose shirt and baggy sweats, before heading out into the small living room.

If his younger self could see how he lives now, he’s sure he would’ve turned his nose up in disgust before calling him a sell-out, and a gnarled part of him still thinks that to some level, however; when he thinks back to how he used to live on the streets for close to a decade, he’ll take the easy, comfy life-style you allow him to live in your home in a heart-beat.

He used to wonder about where he would get his next meal – now his biggest inconvenience is that he’s bored whenever you’re not at home. How the times change.

He turns on the T.V. and sets it to a low volume as he moves into the kitchen and opens the fridge, pulling out a few miscellaneous items and setting them on the counter, before getting to work on prepping the food.

He doesn’t eat much, even now his metabolism is still messed up from the years of cumulative damage his body sustained, but he found himself making food for you when he first moved into your apartment as a way to keep himself occupied while you were at work. Most of his cooking attempts consist of cup noodles, and whatever else was easy to make, but every once in a while, he’d put a bit more effort into what he made, so long as you had the ingredients for it.

He curses to himself as he painstakingly prepares an easy meal of miso soup and yaki, his lack of a right arm slowing down his progress. Eventually he finishes his meal prep and puts his creation away as he waits for you to come home, moving to his usual spot by the window on your living room couch, before sitting down and indulging in some mindless reality T.V. show.

He watches the show absentmindedly, barely paying attention to what’s playing on the screen as he basks in the warm sunlight streaming in from outside. He glances over to his left to see his reflection staring back at him from a hanging mirror across the room, and has to fight the urge to flinch at what’s staring back at him.

Even after all of the love and tenderness you allowed him to experience while living with you, he still looked rough, and there were days where he felt it more than others. He may not have been able to feel pain in the normal sense, but his body aches constantly and there are additional issues he deals with daily.

He’s painfully aware that he probably doesn’t have a lot of time on the earth. He’s in his late twenties, too damn early to be faced with his own mortality, but he knows there’s no use in trying to dance around the subject. With his body being what it is, he’d be surprised if he made it to fifty, but he knows better than to voice that out loud. The one-time he had confessed his inner thoughts to you, you had damn near burst into tears, and he found that he couldn’t stand to see you like that, so he keeps his morbid thoughts to himself.

The sound of the apartment door opening snaps him out of his depressing reprieve. He looks up, only to see you closing the door to the apartment, hanging your keys up and kicking your shoes off. He gets up off the couch and pads over to you, greeting you with a little smile.

“You’re home early.”

You turn around to face him, smiling. “Yeah, I finished early today. Figured I’d come back and see what you were up to.”

He snorts as he takes your bag from you, setting it down on the small bench you had set up near your front door. “Not much, you know that. S’not like I can leave the building without you or Shoto escorting me.”

You roll your eyes, gracing him with a teasing smile. “How is he anyways? You talked to your family at all recently?”

He shrugs. “Not really. You know my phone usage is heavily monitored anyways.”

“I told them that – your mom reached out to me recently – she was hoping to meet up with you for lunch soon, and she hadn’t heard from you in a bit.”

“Ah. I don’t look at my phone very often. Tell her that I’m down. I’ll reach out at some point.” He nods towards the kitchen. “I made dinner.”

You beam at him. “You didn’t have to do that.” You lean in to press a kiss to the rough skin of his cheek, and he feels his heart speed up in his chest. Even though the physical affection you gave him isn’t anything new, it’s still amazing how much of an effect you had on him.

The fire that he keeps buried in his chest flares to life as you turned away from him briefly, but he doesn’t let you go far. He snakes an arm around your middle, pulling you back to him, causing you to look up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbles quietly into your hair. You simply wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle into his chest.

“Missed you too.” You tell him quietly. He swallowed thickly, as he allowed his hand to splay further down your back.

“I really missed you; I mean.”

You smile up at him gently, wiggling your eyebrows. “Did you now?”

“Mmmm.”

His hummed response causes your grin to grow wider. “Wanna show me?”

He doesn’t humor you with a response – instead opting to take you by the hand and lead you towards your shared bedroom with teasing grin of his own. He allows you to kick the door closed behind you, before dipping down to bite on the skin of your neck, causing a giggle to escape your lips as his hands wander up and down your frame.

“Off.” He grunts, tugging on your clothes. You smirk at his demand, pulling at the hairs at the nape of his neck to get him to look at you.

“I think you could ask me a bit nicer, right?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Please.”

“That’s better.” You smile sweetly at him, separating yourself from him long enough to shimmy out of your pants and strip out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra and panties before him.

He kisses the back of his teeth as he closes the distance between you, wrapping a muscular arm around you as he captures your lips with his rough ones. He feels you sigh into the kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck.

It wasn’t often that he initiated physical contact like this – he not shy by any means, but he’s not used to having such close relations with another person. He’d been a loner for such a long time after escaping the hospital, and any physical contact he somehow managed to receive from woman he’d met in sketchy bars during those miserable years had never been meaningful or fulfilling. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

But you wanted him, and you weren’t shy about letting him know just that.

He had no problems letting you remind him of the latter.

He feels your hands travel down from around his neck to the bottom of his shirt, tugging on it. “Off please.” You murmur against his lips, and he separates from you long enough to yank his shirt off, before coming back to embrace your soft body with his own hot one.

He presses you back against the bed, gently pushing you down to lay on the mattress as he hovered above you. He dips back down to seal his lips with yours, as he feels your fingertips trail down the rough skin of his stomach until they reached the waistband of his sweats. He smirks as he feels you undo the drawstrings and push them down his slender hips, pushing them down low enough for his cock to spring free.

“Seems like you’re just as eager as me.” He sniggers as he sits up long enough to shuck them off, giving you a moment to unhook your bra and toss it across the room.

You don’t humor him with a response as you sit up to stroke his cock, causing him to hiss as your fingers wrap around his shaft. He lets you have your way for a moment before gently pushing you back down onto the mattress, causing you to look up at him quizzically as he shakes his head.

“Not today babe, let me do the work.”

He feels his heart pound in his ribcage, as a look of realization passes over your pretty features. A smile pulls at your lips as you open your arms and beckons him down to you, which he eagerly accepts. He nips and kisses the skin of your neck as he makes quick work of your panties, causing you to moan softly as he runs his fingers up the length of your dripping slit.

“God.” He groans as he attacks your lips again. “So, fucking wet for me. You want me, right?”

“Yes Touya.” You breathe against his lips, allowing your fingers to trace patterns into the scarred expanse of his back. “Always. Always you.”

He feels his destroyed tear ducts sting slightly at the sincerity of your confession. Even though you’ve assured him you only want him countless times before, it was something he never quite got used to hearing.

The entirety of his life before you was spent in fire and hardship. Kindness was something foreign to him, and being allowed to be vulnerable with another person was something he never even considered. He never thought he’d live long enough to be able to do so regardless – accepting that he destined to spend what was left of his life alone – and so the thought had never crossed his mind.

But he wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Not since you had unexpectedly come into his life.

He had you. Body, mind and soul, he belonged to you. He knew there was no way he would ever have the words to tell you that, so he hoped that he could convey his message clearly enough by showing you just how much you meant to him.

He taps your leg, getting you to wrap your legs around his lean waist, as he lines himself up with your opening. You thread your fingers through his soft white spikes as he slowly begins to push himself into your pussy, causing you to whimper as he begins to stretch your walls out.

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He growls as he bullies his way into your tight heat. “You’re perfect for me. Just you – you’re the only one I want.”

“Me too.” You gasp as you dig your nails into his shoulder to ground yourself. “I’m so glad I got to meet you. S-so glad you’re here with me—”

Your eyes open impossibly, as he suddenly snaps his hips forward and drives himself home deep inside your walls, causing you both to moan. He barely gives you any time to recover before he starts moving. He fists his hand in the sheets beside your head as he focuses his energy into keeping his thrusts deep and strong, just how he knows you like it.

He grins down at you almost sadistically, watching as your eyes roll back from the force of his thrusts. “S’matter? Don’t tell me you’re giving up already?”

“N-no.” you moan as he gives you a particularly hard thrust. “I just—oh, fuck!” you wail as you feel him hit a practically sensitive spot inside you, causing him to grin wickedly.

“Eyes on me gorgeous.”

“You’re mean.” You huff, but center your attention on him regardless, causing him to chuckle, and reward you with another harsh thrust.

“I know.” He practically purrs as he shifts his weight to his knees. He grabs the meat of your hip, and starts pounding you harder than before, making you keen and fist your hands into the sheets as his pelvis brushes up against your clit deliciously.

“Fuck, Touya! I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, warning him of your impending release, but it only makes him double down and fuck you harder, determined to see you climax before him.

“Yeah? Well, go ahead sweetheart: come on this cock. C’mon, c’mon; I know you’re going to, I can feel you squeezing me just right, so do it. Let go for me pretty girl, just let go.”

He feels your walls convulse around him and your back arches slightly off the bed as you climax with a desperate cry at his words. The sight of you coming undone beneath him is so hot it does him in a few strokes later, spilling deep inside your walls with a feral growl of his own.

You both stay like that for a few minutes, fighting to catch your breaths, before you unlock your legs from around his waist, allowing him to pull out of you. He pulls back to grin at the combination of your fluids that leak out from in between your legs, and you roll your eyes. He makes a move to the bathroom to grab you a towel, only for you to shake your head.

“Later.” You murmur, as you pat the spot on the bed next to you. “Come lie with me for a few minutes.”

He laughs quietly at your antics, but obliges your request, and climbs over you to collapse into the vacant space on the bed next to you, and you don’t hesitate to move over to him.

“God, you can be relentless sometimes.” You pant as you curl up into his side. He simply snorts at your assessment as he drapes his arm around you protectively.

“Maybe. I am a villain after all sweetheart.”

“You were.” You manage to grumble as you make yourself comfortable, eventually settling on resting your head on his chest so you can hear his heartbeat. “You’re not now.”

“Yeah, well. Attitude never changed. Surprised you put up with me for as long as you did.”

“You weren’t so bad.” You murmur softly, tracing shapes into the rough skin of his stomach. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t have come back after we first met.”

“Why did you come back after the first time anyways? I can’t remember if you ever told me.” He suddenly raises his head so he’s looking at you. You meet his blazing turquoise irises with a calm gaze of your own and wink at him teasingly.

“I’m crazy remember?”

“Must be, if you came to see one of Japan’s most wanted almost every day for damn near two years straight. But seriously, why?”

You’re quiet for a moment before you answer him. When you do, you shift your head slightly on his chest so you can see his face better.

“I suppose it’s because all your rage… all your anger towards the injustice of everything you’d gone through up until that point… it reminded me of myself, in a way.” You admit softly, causing him to quirk a snowy brow at your confession.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said on your initial broadcast—" you continue on before he can ask. “—like how there were a lot of shitty things about hero society you weren’t wrong about. Honestly, for a long time there, I felt just as pissed off with some of those so-called “Pro’s” as you. Some of them were only doing it for the money and fame, you could tell.” You exhale through your nose.

“But, on the other hand, there were so many good things happening to change those problems that you didn’t see because you were on the outsider.” You fall silent for a moment before adding:

“You just seemed so hurt, so raw with everything you were saying. I told myself there and then, if I ever got the opportunity to meet you, I’d show you not everything is as bad as it seemed. Never thought I’d get the chance honestly, and yet, one day, the opportunity to meet you face to face practically dropped into my lap. How could I not take the offer?”

“Was I what you’d thought I’d be?” he finds himself asking you, not completely sure if he wants to know the answer. You simply send him one of your glowing smiles that sends tingles down to his stomach.

“No, you were better.”

He snorts, shifting his arm so he’s tracing his warm fingertips up and down your nude body. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m serious. Even now, you’re doing so much better with handling everything then I thought you would. You’re resilient, and you adapt when you need to, but you’ve definitely changed… in a good way. You’re not as hateful anymore… you’re calmer, more accepting.”

“Yeah well, the shrinks have you to thank for that. Far as I’m concerned, they don’t do anything. I just see them so I can stay with you.” He grumbles, prompting you to giggle, before shifting you so you’re lying on your sides, facing each other.

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, inwardly softening as he watches you lean into his warm touch, before dropping his hand back down in between your bodies.

“I know I’m not very good at these sorts of things, but… you know I love you, right?”

He’s hopeful that you understand. He doesn’t say it often to you, and he knows he probably should, but even after all the time he’s spent with you, that involves you showing him what a healthy relationship looks like, it’s still not an easy thing for him to say. Hell, he has a hard enough time saying it to his own mother, let alone anyone else.

He’ll probably always have a difficult time admitting it. Love is an emotion he’s never had a good understanding of, seeing how it was so sked for him a s a child. Even now, the concept is a foreign one for him to understand, but thankfully, you seem to be more aware of this than anyone else.

You find his hand with one of your own and lace your fingers together, squeezing it tightly.

“I know Touya. I’ve always known.”

FIN

#dabi #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x reader #touya x y/n #touya x you #post war!au #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi x reader smut #touya todoroki x reader smut #tw: mental health #see a03 for more detailed tags

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bornonthesavage · 1 year

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Tell Me "Don't", So I Can Crawl Back In Part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Eddie Munson was having a crisis. No, maybe that was too strong a word. This was just a minor existential examination of everything he’d ever known. Because up until today, it had been a known truth of the universe that all jocks were irredeemable assholes whose sole purpose in life was to make Eddies worse. And for the most part, that was still what he believed. Except, now there was big, glaring dent in this truth. A big, glaring dent in the form of Steve Harrington.

When he’d looked up and seen that stupid, handsome face, he’d immediately known he was about to have a bad time. Would probably have his papers stomped on, maybe a few books ripped. So one can forgive Eddie his momentary lack of brain function when Steve actually got down and started to help. And then he apologized. Like, actually apologized. And he seemed sincere. Which had completely knocked the wind out of Eddie’s sails. He’d been so prepared to say something scathing, to mock him and then hightail it out of there before he got his ass kicked.

But then, to make it worse, Steve knew about Dungeons and Dragons. And he babysat. He babysat nerdy kids who played Dungeons and Dragons, and he offered that information up like it was nothing. Like it didn’t rock Eddie to his very fucking core. And then, of course, he delivered the killing blow in the form of a genuine smile. Like he was made of fucking sunshine.

Goddamn it. Eddie had done such a good job at keeping his horrible, ill-advised crushes on straight boys under control. Because sure, he’d looked at Steve before. It was impossible not to, when he looked like freaking Apollo, all golden tanned and built like a dream. Being that Eddie was the only queer guy he knew of in Hawkins, it wasn’t like he had any choice but to have crushes on straight guys. Pickings were slim, and Eddie was starving.

So yes, he’d snuck a look at Steve in the past. Either in the halls, or as he jogged around the track field, or on one memorable occasion when he’d accidentally stumbled into a swim meet and caught an eyeful of tight little swim trunks. But that was fine. Looking was fine.

Only, now he’d talked to him. And Steve was no longer just a hot, mean jock. Because he hadn’t seemed mean at all. He’d seemed pretty nice, actually. Maybe that was what happened, when a person lost everything that had once made them what they were. Now, Steve had to reinvent what he was. Well, if that was the case, he was off to a pretty good start. Maybe Eddie could give him a few pointers. Take him under his wing. Maybe Steve would---

No. No! He was not going to go down that rabbit hole. That was dangerous. What he needed to do was stay far away from Steve Harrington. That pretty boy was nothing but trouble, and Eddie had more than enough of that in his life as it was.

He dragged his pillow up and pressed it over his face before screaming into it. This was ridiculous. He couldn’t actually be this weak. One nice smile sent his way, and he was ready to drop all his carefully crafted walls. It was pathetic.

Eddie rolled off his bed and climbed to his feet. This was fine. It wasn’t like Steve was ever going to talk to him again. Today had been a total fluke. From now on he could go back to sneaking glances across crowded rooms. So really, there was no need to dwell on this. He repeated that sentiment as he made his way out of his room and to the kitchen, where he proceeded to make the worlds loudest bowl of cereal. And the thing was, he didn’t even realize how hard he was slamming the cabinets until Wayne looked up from the tv.

“Eds, what on Gods green earth has gotten you so worked up?”

He huffed. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Wayne gave him a look. “Now I know that ain’t true. The only time you slam shit is when you’ve gotten yourself all worked up about something. So, spill.”

Eddie growled and shoved the milk roughly back into the fridge. “It’s just… Gah!” He scooped up a too big bite of cereal and shoveled into his mouth. “Stupid boys! And their stupid smiles!”

Wayne, of course, knew about Eddie. Had know for years. But they didn’t talk about it. Not beyond the initial talk they’d had, when Wayne had assured him that he would love and support Eddie no matter what. And then, after that, the very awkward and horrible discussion about safe sex. Which wasn’t an issue for Eddie, considering he was a virgin.

“Well,” Wayne said slowly. “I can’t say I relate. But, yeah. I understand the sentiment.”

Eddie shook his head and glared into his bowl. “He thinks he can just smile at me, and I’ll forget about what a douche bag he was.”

Wayne hummed. “No, you don’t want to be getting mixed up with that sort.”

“Exactly!” Eddie cried, pointing his spoon at his uncle. “Exactly.”

Without another word, he turned and scampered back into his room. Once he was safely tucked into his cocoon of blankets, he let himself ruminate on the problem of Steve. Because really, what sort of name was that. Steve. Just a boring old name. The kind of name Eddie imagined a mailman to have.

Steve could be a mailman, if he wanted to. He’d look good, in those khaki shorts. Eddie could picture him, biceps bulging as he hefted a large package to Eddie’s door. Maybe he’d be hot and would need to come inside to cool down. And once inside, maybe he’d feel the need to deliver a different sort of package… No! Shit, no no no.

Eddie clamped his teeth down on his spoon hard enough to hurt. This was ridiculous. Harrington didn’t deserve a starring role in his fantasies. It wasn’t like he’d done anything great. So what, he’d picked up a few papers. Big deal. No, it was imperative that Eddie put Steve out of his mind completely.

That became an issue the very next day. Eddie was situated at the head of the lunch table, just like always. His pack of merry freaks lined the table, already talking over each other about one thing or another. Gareth and Jeff had their head bowed together, discussing something to do with D&D. Josie and Mic were arguing over something that had happened in history class, while Grant and Todd discussed a movie they’d gone to see over the past weekend. Eddie grinned as he observed his friends. This was his domain, and there was peace.

At least there was, until out of the corner of his eyes, Eddie spotted an approaching enemy. And okay, maybe it was a bit much to call Steve an enemy. Before yesterday, sure. But now… Steve was an anomaly. An anomaly that was rapidly approaching their table with a tray in hand. Eddie sat frozen, his eyes wide, all the way up until Steve stopped beside him. The rest of the table seemed to have noticed him as well, as they’d fallen silent. Steve smiled down at Eddie as if he weren’t doing the strangest thing that had ever happened at Hawkins High.

“Hey Eddie, what’s up?”

He could physically feel his brain reeling, searching in his files for what the appropriate response to this situation was. All he could come up with was a garbled “Wha?”

Steve didn’t seem phased. “I said, what’s up? How’re you doing?”’

Eddie blinked rapidly. “Uh, yeah man. I’m fine. Did you… need something?”

“Oh, actually.” Steve reached around into his back pocket and pulled out a folded black square of cloth. A very familiar one, at that. He’d honestly thought he’d lost it. But to see it now, held out in Steve Harrington’s hand, was almost too much. Eddie choked.

“You dropped this yesterday, and I wanted to give it back. Wasn’t sure if it had any significant meaning to you.”

Yeah, you could say that. Eddie reached out slowly, almost afraid Steve was about to rip his hand away and call him out. Tell the whole school what a black hanky meant, and what that made Eddie. But that didn’t happen. Steve allowed the cloth to slip through his fingers, all the while wearing that same casual grin.

“Oh, um. Thanks dude.”

“It’s no problem,” Steve said with a shrug.

Eddie expected him to leave, now that he’d done his daily good deed or whatever. But he didn’t. Steve continued to stand beside him, looking infuriatingly normal. As if this wasn’t so, so weird. Then, to make matters even more bizarre, he turned his smile on the rest of the table.

“Hey guys.”

It took monumental effort, but Eddie finally managed to drag his eyes away from Steve and back to his friends. It was actually pretty funny, the way they all wore matching expression of astoundment and confusion. Their faces looked the way Eddie felt on the inside. Nobody gave a response. When Steve still didn’t leave, Eddie cleared his throat.

“Uh, was there something else you needed?”

Steve’s expression shifted then, turning almost bashful. Eddie despised how cute he found it. “Actually, yeah. I was sort of wondering if I could sit with you?”

The silence that rang, following that statement, was loud. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie could see his friends begin to shift with distrust. Because yeah, this was really bizarre. At least Eddie had some context, given their encounter yesterday. But had Steve really fallen so low, so desperate for friends, that he was willing to slum it with the freaks?

The awkwardness seemed to finally catch up with Steve, as he began to ramble. “It’s just, I was late to the cafeteria, so my usual table is taken. And, I mean, I guess I could go eat outside or in the library, but that seems like a level of lame I’d rather not fall to. So I saw you, and remembered I had to return your bandana. And then I saw you had extra chairs and figured I’d ask. But if not it’s fine, I can go—”

“No!”

Eddie wanted to clamp a hand over his own stupid mouth. Did he have to sound so loud and eager? Fuck, he really was pathetic. But at least Steve wasn’t much better, with the way he was staring down at Eddie with those big, brown eyes.

“I just mean, no, it’s fine. You can sit with us.” Eddie explained. His shin received a hard kick from under the table, but he ignored it. “If his highness wishes to dine with the peasants, who am I to deny him?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I already told you, I’m not a king anymore.”

“Ah!” Eddie cried, leaping to his feet. “A fallen heir. How tragic. Well, I always have room in my court for a weary traveler.”

What the fuck was he doing? He should be telling Steve to go away, to leave them alone. There was no way this was going to be a good thing for his newfound straight boy crush. And yet his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own, that filthy traitor. And it was worse, when Steve lit up like Eddie had just told him today was second Christmas. Because oh no. Now Eddie wanted to see that again. He wanted to please Steve Harrington.

“Oh, cool. Thanks. I can sit down at the end, if you want.”

Yeah, that would be good. Put some distance between them. Of course, his stupid fucking mouth had other ideas. “No, it’s fine. Just pull a chair up next to me.”

Fuck! That wasn’t what he’d meant to say! God dammit. But it was too late, because Steve was already beaming like a kid at Disneyland. Eddie watched as he set his tray down, then walked to a nearby table and stole a chair to drag over. He shot a panicked glance at his friends, and found that they were all looking at him like he’s lost his mind. Gareth’s face very clearly said “What the hell are you doing?” Eddie sent him a desperate shrug.

Steve plopped down right beside Eddie. Which was so stupid, because there definitely wasn’t enough room at the head of the table for two people. It forced them to sit practically pressed against each other, with Steve’s warm thigh lining up perfectly with Eddie’s leg. Steve didn’t even seem to notice. He just cast a guileless smile around to the rest of the gang.

“So, what’s up?”

Based on all the blank faces, that seemed to be what everyone else was thinking. Jeff was the first that seemed to recover, as he cast a look between Steve and Eddie. “Uh, yeah, we’re kind of wondering the same thing.”

Steve ripped open a bag of chips and threw a few into his mouth. “Oh, shit, sorry. Did Eddie not tell you? We sort of started talking yesterday when I accidentally ran into him. We shared some minor bonding over my slight knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons, so we’re pretty much friends now.”

They were? What the fuck? This was news to him! The rest of the group was looking at Eddie now though, and he was really not prepared to unpack all this with an audience. He waved his hands.

“All of you, as you were. Stop gawking like heathens, just because we have a bit of fresh meat at the table.”

There were several shouts of indignation, but Eddie silenced them with a look. They would discuss this later, but not here. It wasn’t like Eddie was opposed to making a scene. Oh no, he engaged in a good bit of table theater at least once per week. But in this instance, he had no idea what to make of this new development. It was unnerving, and Eddie needed time to poke at it before he made any moves. Surely Steve had some ulterior motives. Whatever they were, Eddie would find them.

Reluctantly, the rest of the group went back to their conversations. Which left Eddie with Steve, who was looking at him with an amused curl to his mouth.

“What?”

“That was pretty impressive.”

“What was?”

Steve rolled his eyes. What a bitch. “How you got them all to listen to you. I could use a few pointers. Maybe then I could get the middle schoolers I look after to actually do what I say for once.”

Eddie grinned wide, showing off all his teeth. “It’s all in the presentation, Stevie boy. If you hold yourself like you’re the one in charge, everyone else will listen.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Steve said, chewing slowly. “That’s kind of what I used to do. It works better on people our age, though. Middle schoolers can see through an act like nobody’s business.”

“Well then, Stevie boy, make sure it’s not an act.”

Steve huffed. “That’s easier said than done. Especially when I have no clue what I’m doing most of the time. Fake it till you make it only works when you have at least a tiny bit of a plan. I’m just out here wandering through the dark.”

Well shit, that sounded awfully close to vulnerability. “Careful, Steve, you don’t want to go around admitting that sort of thing where predators might hear you.”

Steve quirked an eyebrow up. “What, like you?”

Huh. Nobody, ever, in their right mind had referred to Eddie as a predator. No, he figured he belonged somewhere in the small mammal category. Like a gopher, or maybe a mink. You could probably make a real nice fur coat out of him.

“Buddy boy, out of the two of us, I think you fall more in line with the predators.”

Steve hummed and popped a grape into his mouth. Eddie watched, transfixed, as Steve rolled the fruit around in his mouth. First to one cheek, then the other, before letting it pop back to the front of his teeth. What the fuck? Just eat the damn thing!

“I feel like I’m more of a golden retriever,” he eventually said. “Does that count as a predator?”

Eddie snorted. “No, it doesn’t. But I’m not so sure about a golden retriever. You’re too bitchy for that. Maybe a different breed.”

“And which breed would that be?” Steve asked, tilting his head.

“Don’t know. Can’t say I know you all that well.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, as though considering. “That’s fair. Tell you what, once we hang out a little more, you let me know which breed of dog you think I am. Okay?”

Eddie knew he should object, tell him to go find someone else to bother. But he was, in fact, a weak, weak man. And here Steve Harrington was, saying he wanted to hang out. And he was supposed to, what? Tell him no? Have restraint? Self-respect? It was overrated. Especially when compared with the opportunity to sit in the presence of a very pretty boy. So, Eddie found himself nodding his head, meeting Steve’s eye.

“Alright Harrington. You’ve got a deal.”

Read and follow along on AO3

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie munson #these boys don't know what they've gotten themselves into

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enyalios-shrine · 7 months

Text

𝘼𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙥 101

Hi! I’m Raven (or Ray), and I’ve been an Ares devotee for almost five years now. You want to start worshiping him? Great! Despite what today’s media makes of him - which I will talk about a lot in this post - , he’s actually a very caring, gentle and (dare I say) beginner-friendly deity! In general, a great choice! (Also, this is inspired by another post I saw but forgot to save - so, credits for the idea goes to that person) So, let's get started.

WHO IS ARES? - MODERN MISCONCEPTIONS

Since I’m assuming you already know the broad strokes of who he is (Greek god of war, bloodshed, violent and so forth), this section will be about some of the misconceptions most people have of Him. If you’ve ever consumed any Greek mythology-related media, I’m sure you’ve seen the following caricature: beefy, misogynistic, violent, stupid jerk, rude and always looking for a fight. While, yes, He IS violent (He's the god of war, afterall), that's far from all He has to offer.

Did you know Ares is actually historically a major feminist? That’s probably the first thing to get demystified about Him when you talk to an Ares devotee or worshiper, so I’m not really saying ground-breaking news here, but since a fair amount of people don’t know about it, I thought it was a fair mention. So, let’s get into the actual myths and proofs for this claim:

Ares was the father of and supported the Amazons in battle, a group of female-only warriors and hunters.

He’s one of the only male deities in Greek mythology to not have sexually harassed or raped someone. Yes, even other deities viewed as “nice” such as Apollo and Hermes have done so (I don’t mean any disrespect for those deities here - I’m also an Apollo devotee).

Ares was held in trial for the murder of Halirrhotius, a son of Poseidon, after he raped one of Ares’ daughters, Alkippe. He was acquited of murder by the gods. Remember, back in ancient Greece, women didn’t have ANY rights - raping one was not considered a crime or even frowned upon as far as I'm aware.

One of His epithets is “Ares Gynaikothoina", which means "feasted by women". During a war between the Tegeans and the Spartans, the women of Tegea defended the city from a invasion led by the Spartan king Charilaus. After arming themselves, they defeated the Spartans following an ambush. Among the prisoners was the Spartan king himself. In commemoration, they would hold a feast in honor of Ares, to which only women were invited.

All in all, Ares is protective, just, and encouraging of His children as well as worshipers and devotees. He’s not the piece of shit jock most people think of when you mention His name. Please stop doing my man this dishonor, He deserves so much better.

BASIC INFO

His Roman counterpart is Mars. He’s the son of Zeus and Hera, and his consourt is Aphrodite (even though they’re not officially married). His divine children are Phobos and Deimos (twin daimones/personified spirits of panic and terror, respectively), Harmonia (goddess of harmony and concord), Antero (erote/god of requited love) and Eros (erote/god of carnal love), all which he had with Aphrodite, as well as Drakon of Thebes (a giant serpent), which he apparently had by himself.

As for hero children; Cycnus (a bloody-thirsty men who was murdered by Herakles), Diomedes of Thrace (who had man-eating horses for some reason), Thrax (who founded Thrace), Oenomaus (Greek king of Pisa), and the Amazons (female warriors and hunters as mentioned above).

His symbols and associations are: spears, swords, helmets, armour, dogs, chariots, shields, The Chariot & The Emperor tarot cards, etc.

FESTIVALS AND DAYS

Tuesdays are holy to Ares and are ruled by the planet Mars (again, his Roman counterpart), which means they’re associated with action, energy, strength, and courage, as well as the color red.

As for festivals, He was typically honored with special rites in times of war or just before battles. There were also two annual festivals: one in the town of Geronthrae in ancient Laconia, celebrated only by men, and one in Tagea in Arcadia, celebrated only by women, where His "feasted by women" epithet came from. There's hardly any info on exact dates (from the Attic calendar or not) or info about any other festivals.

SACRED ANIMALS

Serpents

Dogs

Vultures

Woodpecker

Barn owls

Eagle owls

SACRED PLANTS

There’s no plant, flower or tree traditionally associated with Ares, unfortunately, so I’m gonna give a list of my UPG’s. Now, I’m not a witch, so I don’t know about the magical properties of the plants I’m about to list (if you’re a witch and were looking for something like that, my bad). However, I am a florist and have a special interest in floriography, so I assign them to Him based on vibe, meaning, etc.

Amaryllis (Means “Pride”)

Basil (Means “Hate”)

Water hemlock (Means “Death”)

Snapdragon (Means “Presumption”, but I think he just likes the way it looks)

Poppy (Means “Eternal sleep”, but has a long history with wars, being the first kind of flora to start growing in abandoned battlefields that were previously considered infertile)

Nettle (Means “Cruelty”)

Magnolia (Means “Dignity”)

Yarrow (Means “Cure for a broken heart”, and is said to have been used by Achilles to heal his men on the battlefield, which is why the scientific name is “Achillea”)

Ginger (Associated with “Heat”)

Pepper, spices, etc (idk he just gives the vibes)

OFFERINGS & DEVOTIONAL ACTS

Honestly, the only slander Ares should be getting is that He likes edgy teenage boy things. That being said, here's some ideas/suggestions, first for devotional acts and then offerings:

Workout or do any kind of physical activity

Take care of your mental and physical health

Stand up for yourseld and what you believe in

Learn about past wars, battles, and riots

Do things that make you feel badass/brave/empowered

Go to a protest

Work on managing your anger (especially for my fellow BPD havers)

Pet a dog

Honor His children and Aphrodite

For offerings; any kind of meat, especially red

Anything sharp (cool knives or daggers, broken glass, etc)

Bones!!

Halloween decor (I personally have those fake plastic snakes, spiders, and a skull on His altar)

Black coffee, the stronger the better

Any alcohol, but especially whiskey

Anything spicy

WHY WORSHIP ARES? - A PERSONAL RANT

Living in an extremely physically abusive household, I had to know and be acostumed to violence from a very young age. That violence left with many things - BPD and C-PTSD, to name a few - but mostly importantly, it left me only being able to feel one thing: anger.

I was angry at everything. Angry at the world for allowing me to have to live through such a horrible situation, angry at my mom for not standing up for me, angry at my abuser, even angry at myself for not ever trying to fight back or protect myself (though now I realize that was completely out of the question. I was only 8, what could I have done against a man in his 30's that was three times my size?).

That anger didn't go away after I got away from my abuser. If anything, it grew worse. I'd yell, break everything around me, say horrible things to the people I loved - I was a totally different person. I could barely recognize myself. I was an empty shell, filled with absolutely nothing else than the purest form of resentment and wrath, things that had been brewing inside of me since I was a child. I never had the choice to become anything else.

Ares understands violence. He's the god of it. He knows when it's justifiable and when it's not, when it serves a purpose and when it's out of pure malice. He helped me realize that instead of trying to fight against my anger out of the shame it made me feel, I had to embrace it - become one with it. It's a part of me, at the end of the day. I just had to figure out how to control it instead of letting it control me.

He embraced me when I was too disgusted with this ugly side of me to even look in a mirror. I was scared of myself - he wasn't. He's seen worse. I never had someone accept me and all my flaws before, god or otherwise.

That's why it's so upsetting to see the modern depictions so many people have of him. Someone so understanding and loving being defined by the worst parts of Himself, just like I used to do with myself in the past.

Ares is the god of war, war is not the god of Ares.

#hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #ares #ares devotee #ares devotion #ares worshiper #ares worship #hellenic polytheist #my posts

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sapphirelass · 6 months

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In my Blood ~ Will Solace x Sister!Reader

Hi you guys! Wow, it's been over a year😅 I'm still working toward my uni degree (physics, maths and upper secondary school education for those of you who don't know), spending time with my boyfriend, hanging out with friends, and visiting my family as often as I can. I promise I have done a fair bit of writing this past year, just not finished anything... But, here we are! Really looking forward to the PJO-series, but while we're all waiting, here's a Will imagine because Will is great <3

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To read as xOC, click here

Words: 2500 ish

Warnings: injury, blood, wounds, angst (normal demigod stuff really, but you know)

Please note that English isn't my first language! I have studied it for over a decade, and speak it fluently, but there might still be some grammatical errors and a mix of British/American expressions - thanks for understanding :)

y/n - your name

y/n/n - your nickname

she/her reader

Enjoy! :)

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“Get down!” she shouted, as a giant, angry, terrifying cyclops approached them. “Listen closely now; do you see that huge pine tree over there? And the statue? Run past them, and you’ll find people who’ll help. I’ll try to buy you as much time as possible!”

The two seven-year-old half-bloods that had just been saved and brought to camp (well, almost anyway) sat off towards the border, as (y/n) Solace, daughter of Apollo, stayed behind and pulled her sword out. She was a way more advanced archer than swordfighter, but the one bow she had brought with her had fallen out of her firm grip as she jumped behind a boulder for cover. She had made an attempt at getting it back, however, that just resulted in her body coming crashing to the ground as the cyclops’ hand collided with her chest, while the bow ended up in between the hard ground and the monster’s massive foot… (Y/n) threw her head back and sighed at the sight of her trusty old weapon in pieces, and it wasn’t until she tried to push herself back up on her feet that she noticed a terrible pain spreading through her left arm from her elbow. It hurt badly, but since she didn’t have much of a choice, (y/n), suddenly feeling slightly dizzy, pushed herself back up with her other hand and looked for another road to victory.

After a few minutes of trying to attack the monster with her sword, but repeatedly failing since getting close enough without getting hit herself proved to be very difficult, (y/n) quickly ran in a circle around the monster causing him to stumble - if only for a second. She wasted no time launching herself at the cyclops with her sword and - *SPLASH*. The sharp, metal blade bore deep into the slimy eye, and the cyclops staggered backwards, slowly disintegrating. (y/n) was just about to take a deep breath when she felt a stinging sensation in her abdomen. Briefly glancing down, she winced as she realized what had happened. The monster must have grabbed one of her arrows from the quiver she had thrown onto the ground, and, rather violently judging by the amount of blood oozing through her orange t-shirt, pushed one into her side.

Being a demigod, (y/n) had obviously suffered multiple injuries before, though never quite ones as bad as this. The bottom half of her shirt was now more red than orange, and she could feel the world spinning slightly. Groaning, she sat down against a tree and inspected the wound carefully. She wanted to pull the arrow out, but her twin brother Will had always strongly argued against doing something just like that. A vague memory of him saying something along the lines of “the weapon possibly being the only thing keeping you from losing too much blood”... Sighing, she started to slowly make her way toward camp but didn’t make it very far before stumbling over her own feet and falling forwards on the cold hard ground. (Y/n) coughed up something that looked like a mixture of spit and blood before pushing herself to her feet again with the help of her sword. It wasn’t a speedy process, but she kept walking in the direction of the infirmary, stopping to catch her breath every few steps.

---

“(y/n/n)?!” She only had a few hundred meters to go when two of her closest friends - Travis and Connor Stoll - came running towards her with worried faces. Typically when the brothers approached someone together in this way it was with mischievous smiles on their faces and usually followed by a prank of some sort, but not this time. “What in the name of the gods happened to you?”, Travis asked, as Connor carefully placed (y/n)’s right arm across his shoulders to help support her. “We ran into some new kids who said you’d picked a fight with a giant?”

“Oh hardly…”, she demonstrated. “If anyone picked a fight it was him! And besides, it was just a normal cyclops, and not even a very big one.” She winced slightly when Travis smiled and grabbed her other arm, but started walking more steadily thanks to the brothers. “But my bow broke, and - friendly advice - don’t try to take out a cyclops with nothing but a sword.”

“You should put that on a T-shirt.”, Travis joked but shut up quickly when (y/n)’s knees buckled and she stumbled again. He sent her a worried glance as Connor spoke up.

“So, what happened? How bad off are you really?”

She told them the story as they walked slowly down the hill and across the volleyball court. They were right by the big house when (y/n) finished the story.

“Gods…”, Connor mumbled, changing his grip around his friend’s shoulder to give her even more support. “You know Will’s gonna kill you himself this time, right?”. (Y/n) was about to answer him when someone opened the door to the infirmary and beat her to it.

“Who do I have to kill? I swear, if Nico is shadow travelling like a madman agai- Oh Gods!”, Will interrupted himself, a look of horror on his face as he was met with the sight of his twin sister barely able to stand up, and covered from head to toe in blood, mud, and dirt. “(y/n/n), what happened?!” He examined her quickly before holding the door open so the Hermes boys could get in and slowly lay (y/n) on one of the bunks.

“It’s a bit of a story, and I don’t know if I feel like repeating it again right now”, she said weakly, wincing a bit as Will swiftly pulled her worn jean jacket off, “but the short version is that a cyclops punched me and I have an arrow through my stomach… And probably a broken arm too. And I might have hit my head when I fell… it, eh, hurts a bit…”

“Gods…”, Will sighed, “Well, do you feel nauseous? Disorientated? Can you see clearly or is anything blurry?”

“Eh… a little dizzy maybe, and a weak headache, but my sight is fine and I’m not feeling sick.”

“Right”, Will mumbled as he wiped a small amount of blood from his sister’s forehead and briefly inspected the small wound. “Something positive I suppose…”. He put a small bandaid on it to slow the bleeding down at least momentarily, before moving to look at his sister’s arm which was indeed bent in a rather weird way. “Well, head-related injuries are always scary, I’ll have to examine it further to know how bad it actually is. The arm is absolutely broken - annoying, but fixable - though this arrow…” He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through her T-shirt so that he could get to the wound. “Jeez, (y/n/n)… How long have you been bleeding?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “I’m not sure, it feels like an eternity, but an hour maybe?”

“AN HOUR?!” Will tried to stay calm, but his now pale face told another story. “Holy… Okay, eh, (y/n/n), I’m gonna… I have to get the arrow out and stop the bleeding as fast as I can, you- you’ve already lost way too much blood. Let's just hope that it missed anything vital.”

He whispered the last part, but (y/n) hardly heard the rest either, as she slowly but steadily started drifting off to sleep. “Sure thing… You do that, I’m just gonna doze off for a quick sec…”

“Oh no, you’re not!” Will dropped what he was holding and grabbed her shoulders to shake her gently. “(Y/n/n), I get that you’re exhausted, but you have to stay awake. As I said, you lost a lot of blood, and you may have a concussion. Sorry, I’m not even gonna argue with you - you’re not falling asleep.”

He turned back to the brothers who were watching from afar, wanting to know what happened but also not being in the way. “Connor, Travis, you have to keep her talking while I work, okay?”

“Sure”, Travis nodded, as Connor grabbed (y/n)’s right hand again. “Wanna tell us about the new kids?”

“Yeah”, Connor added. “They seem cool!”

“They are…” (y/n) moved a bit, carefully letting Will remove the piece of her T-shirt that he had cut off to get to the wound. “Only seven years old, fighters both of them. They ran away from different orphanages in Vermont and took down a basilisk together in Albany and have taken care of each other si- AHHHHH.”

She let out a harsh scream as her brother swiftly pulled what was left of the arrow out of her chest, and would probably have rolled off the bed if not for the Stoll brothers holding her down as Will apologised profusely.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n/n)”, he mumbled sadly, as he handed Travis a big piece of ambrosia, “but that was the worst of it. You’re doing really well, just hold on. You should try to have some ambrosia now that the arrow’s out.” She struggled to take a few shallow breaths as the extreme pain slowly began to fade again, but nodded and accepted the small piece of godly food Travis was offering her. The pain instantly lessened even more as the flavour of her mother’s gingerbread cookies combined with a touch of magic consumed her whole being. (Y/n) finally took a really deep breath, but when she exhaled it felt as if every single drop of energy she had been grasping onto left her at once. She allowed herself to close her eyes and immediately began drifting off to sleep, the worried voices of Will, Travis, and Connor simply fading into silence.

---

(Y/n) was desperate for a few hours of peaceful rest, but unfortunately sleep and nightmares tended to almost always go hand in hand for demigods. She relived the last 24 hours in her sleep, everything from leaving camp in the early morning feeling excited to bring some new kids back to the exhausting battle that could have ended badly if not for the cyclops’ inability to stay on its feet. During the actual fight, it had happened so quickly that she hadn’t even noticed it at first, but this time she could clearly see how the monster roughly yanked a sharp arrow from her quiver and began making his way back towards her. She lay flat on the ground, desperately trying to move out of the way, but she couldn’t. It was as if all her muscles suddenly decided to to take any more orders from her brain. The cyclops lifted his arm, getting ready to deliver the final blow, as (y/n) closed her eyes, starting to accept her fate.

It felt as if time itself stopped. All she could hear was her own shaky breathing - until suddenly it wasn’t… There was a also voice, far away, sure, but still clearly there…

“(Y/n/n)? Please wake up! C’mon!”

It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t pinpoint who it belonged to. She focused and tried to listen for the voice again, but she was so exhausted… Giving in to the darkness felt so inviting… And simple. She could do with simple for once.

“No, no, no!” The voice cracked, panic and desperation shining through. “Don’t you dare give up now! C’mon, (y/n), I’m here, I’ve got you! Don’t give up… please…”

She was so close to slipping away, but something about that seemed wrong, and the reassuring words plus the comforting feeling brought to her by the sound of the familiar voice gave her precisely the boost of energy she needed. Shaking herself out of the nightmare, (y/n) inhaled sharply before shooting up, her eyes darting around the room until someone gently placed their hands on her shoulders, causing her to meet their gaze.

“(y/n)!”

She blinked a few times, shaking violently as she began realizing where she was. “Will?”

“Oh Gods!” He hugged her tightly, perhaps a bit too tight, but it didn’t matter in that moment - the 16-year-old was just so incredibly relieved to see that his sister was alright. “You’re alive!”

(Y/n)’s breathing evened out again as she leaned into her brother. “I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t let go of her arms, but moved back slightly and sent her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“I… I just… I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Gods, (y/n/n), I always worry.” He moved closer again. “I’m just happy you’re okay! I mean, it’ll be a while before you’re back doing quests of course”, he sent her a serious look, “but the fact that you woke up is a good sign”.

(Y/n) accepted the ambrosia piece Will offered to her before answering. “All thanks to you.”

“Well”, he shrugged, “your body did most of the hard work...” (Y/n) shook her head at Will’s modesty before starting to push herself off the bed to stand up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Stop! What do you think you’re doing?!”, Will exclaimed, swiftly pushing her back down. "You have been unconscious for over four days and lost so much blood, and that’s not even mentioning your head, arm or other random scratches. You’re staying here at least until Friday, no discussion.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, secretly feeling very lucky to have a brother as caring as Will. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just need to stretch my legs for a second, please? Help me out?"

Will didn’t look too happy with the idea, but understood how stiff she must be feeling after so many days and nodded. It wasn’t like (y/n) wanted to get up and run, she still felt really tired and weak. However, after that horrifying moment of helplessness that she experienced in her dream, just the confirmation that she could in fact still move her arms and legs was incredibly comforting. When everything felt normal, she tried a few careful steps and immediately stumbled, but didn’t fall thanks to Will’s support.

“Light-headed?”

“Yeah, a bit…”

“Alright, that’s enough, back you go.” He guided her back to the bed, and she lay her head back down on the pillow.

"There we go!", Will smiled, "can I get you anything?"

"A cup of tea, please? Red, no honey?"

"You’ve got it!"

Five minutes later Will returned, balancing two cups of tea and a cheese sandwich on a tray. "Who ordered the tea and sandwich?", he asked jokingly as he sat the tray on the bed. He placed some pillows against the wall and slowly helped his sister sit up against them. “That would be me", she smiled. Will also sat down on the bed and put an arm around (y/n). She took a small bite of the sandwich and leaned her head on her brother's shoulder. The siblings drank their tea in silence, enjoying the feeling of being together and safe, if only for the night.

//L masterlist

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recentlylocal · 9 months

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Showing up three years late to Trials of Apollo (with meta/fanfiction) but Jason's death makes so much sense in the meta-narrative of the Riordanverse as a whole. He and Percy were alike in so many ways, but while Percy's harmatia was loyalty to a fault, Jason's was always duty.

In the narrative, the people who survive find a way to channel their fatal flaw. When Thalia became an immortal huntress, she could no longer be tempted by individual power or glory. Annabeth channeled her hubris, her desire to "fix" the world, into re-building for a better future instead of trying to tear down the past.

Percy retired. That seems like such a silly way to put it, but in the world of Greek mythology?? That's huge. He made the choice Achilles couldn't – he chose a quiet life taking care of the people he loved, and he left the rest of the world to it's own fate. World ending crisis are still happening — Percy is just choosing not to get involved.

Jason has no way to channel his flaw. He never learned to be an individual not defined by his duties! He never had the chance! He was a child solider, abducted from his family before he really knew them. He was a leader, unable to show weakness. Then Hera stole all his memories, and!! It's unclear if he ever really got them back like Percy did!! Like the man is walking around during HOO relying on everyone else to tell him who he is!! He has no innate sense of self, and no clear path to even learn how to develop one.

He saves the world, he finishes his quest, and then what? He and Piper break up because they don't know how to be together when the world isn't ending. He thought his one other close friend was dead. His relationship with Reyna was shit-canned even before the amnesia. I have no doubt he and Thalia love each other in the way only siblings can, but after more than a decade apart, they're practically strangers. What does he have left to form an identity around? He has always defined himself by the people around him, and now he's alone for the first time in his LIFE with a bunch of mortals and absolutely no greater purpose in life.

In Tyrant's Tomb so far, there's so little shock about this death! People keep saying he made his choice and it's so true!! If it hadn't been Roman emperors, it would have been something else! Somewhere, eventually he would have found a sword to fall on somewhere.

Because it was the only goddamn thing he was ever taught how to do.

#pjo #trials of apollo #jason grace #fic writing #hoo #hey do you think I should be studying right now or....

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 10 months

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Sup any angsty Apollo hc you have? I’m hungry and desperate for yummy angst to gobble up and cry myself to sleep :]

Okay, this took a little while because life, college, and July fourth happened lmao

So. I like to think about just when the purposeful emotional/psychological abuse started and when the physical abuse started between Zeus and Apollo so...TW for abuse talk.

Because, well, when Apollo was young there isn't really a need for Zeus to crack open the bolt - however, we also know from canon that Apollo was subjected to the bolt in his younger years.

Now. To the headcanons!!!!!

During the first thousand or so years of Apollo's life, Zeus was an actual good dad to him (especially compared to Ares). He spoiled both twins excessively because sweet! A couple of kids who aren't failures! Look at them!!! They're already so good with a bow!!! They're so talented!!!

In the Discord, it was mentioned that in Ancient Greece fathers usually took charge of their sons while the mother taught the daughters, so if we apply that to Apollo's life, I think we can assume that maybe, perhaps, there was some psychological abuse going on, but nothing hardcore - probably along the lines of "make me proud or earn my eternal disappointment" *points at Ares*.

The first time Zeus has to actively punish Apollo was because Gaea ordered it - Apollo killed her son Python, and Zeus (being the guy he is) would cave to her wishes. I actually have a fic in store for this convo so here's what I'm thinking:

Zeus would, of course, instantly point the blame at Gaea and deny he had any choice in the matter (even though he has gone against her wishes before...eyes the Titans in Tartarus).

Apollo, who's only paternal figure so far in his life is Zeus, wouldn't question this and only think about how unfair Gaea is (and to be fair, Python had it coming...).

When Apollo returns and he and Artemis are goofing off on Delos, the events of And By The Sun's Light happens and this, I believe, is when it starts slowly trickling into physical abuse zone.

Think about it. You are Zeus, powerful king of the gods, a new, proud father to a couple of twins that you already favor so highly.

Then one day, they both - by happenstance - gain a new domain at the same time.

Oh shit. You think. That's strange. But you shrug and hand them off to Helios and Selene, two of the most powerful Titans on Olympus.

Of course, you still keep an eye on them. You're not stupid, and get biweekly reports from their mentors on their progress - and the unease starts to trickle in.

It increases, in particular, when Apollo starts to amass other domains alongside his music, poetry, prophecy, healing, youth and light.

Truth, knowledge, harmony, ect. are all absorbed into his power arsenal and you, the king of the gods, are now sweating.

This was not suppose to happen, so now, I believe, is when Zeus started to use the "light" zaps (as stated in-series) from his bolt to keep Apollo in line. He doesn't want him to get any ideas after all.

Unfortunately for Zeus, that isn't enough to deter Apollo.

(Sidenote: I also think Zeus didn't want Helios to take "his" place - after all, abusers don't want a positive version of themselves in their victim's lives)

Enter stage left: The Olympian Rebellion.

Ohohoh...

"shit I need to ramp it up" thinks Zeus as he stares at the faces of his wife, brother, and his favorite children.

And ramp it up he does. Of course, Apollo's first stint as a mortal happens here, and man. is it bad. Troy's king is the perfect tool and metaphor for Zeus's own rule to give Apollo (and Poseidon) a taste of what else may happen if he (they) continued to defy him.

It sucks, of course. Apollo's very adamant about it not being a picnic. And for a while, after it's all over, it seems like all's well.

Of course, Zeus doesn't lay off the zaps every now and then, but it's nothing compared to later in Apollo's life.

He even considers Apollo's request to free Prometheus and grants it, because isn't he just such a considerate father?

Really, the first time he had to go gunho on Apollo with the bolt was when he and Heracles got into a fistfight - but really, what kind of king would he be if he hadn't prevented Apollo his sons from tearing Heracles each other apart?

After all, he can't show favoritism now can he?

*insert huge THIS IS SARCASM sign here*

But then...Asclepius happens. This upstart thinks he can meddle with what belongs to the gods? Well, Zeus will teach him a lesson on death - and how permanent it can be!

...he didn't take into account how Apollo would react to his son's death.

Nor the rebelliousness of the action itself.

*Alder rubs her hands together*

alrightly gang. THIS. This is it.

Apollo is turned mortal for a second time, but to Zeus's displeasure, it's actually a pretty good time for him. Admetus is friendly, and the two hit it off rather well - too well, if Apollo's very blatant, embarrassing affection is anything to go by.

Well. This just won't do!

Hmm...Thinks Zeus. What's another punishment that will let the lesson sink in?

He looks down into the Underworld.

Perfect.

So Apollo becomes a god again. He's still pretty sad, but he's feeling better - even moreso when Zeus says he's decided to make Asclepius immortal! He'll be the god of doctors!

Ecstatic, Apollo immediately agrees...and then is forced to watch as Asclepius is locked up and he's forbidden from seeing him.

Not only that, but now...Zeus brings out the eagle eye and the big guns. He alternates between nitpicking Apollo, and praising him.

And he also cranks up the voltage on the bolt, so the lesson lingers.

The Trojan War happens. Zeus simultaneously indulges and denies Apollo's wishes.

And then. *Alder gleefully rubs hands* AND THEN.

ROME HAPPENS.

BUCKLE UP THIS IS WHEN IT GOES DOWN.

Helios fades, and Apollo inherits his power. Think about that. Apollo, an already powerful god inherits the power of a Titan. And not just any Titan, but Helios.

That's a hella lotta power.

...and that's a hella lotta threat in Zeu-oops, sorry, Jupiter's eyes.

(Now Jupiter I think has differences from Zeus, but I haven't really devoted any time to drawing that line between them so stuff may change here. However, Jupiter/Jove had a emphasis on family, so my little spin on that...is right here >:))

Jupiter, like Juno, has the domain of family in Rome. He's seen as the Ultimate Dad TM. And you bet he uses that to manipulate the hell out of Apollo.

"A good son wouldn't do [insert perceived slight here]"

"What kind of example are you setting for your brothers?"

And most of all...

"What would your mother think of your attitude?"

Ow. Talk about a punch to the gut.

So yeah. Rome is when things got BAD. The bolts became a lot more constant. The emotional/psychological abuse was unbearable.

Apollo barely had anybody to go to. His options were limited.

...but the one place he did feel comfortable in was with Commodus.

(hahah, yes, I managed to reel Copollo into this too lmao)

In a classic Apollo move, our favorite god goes from one toxic influence (his father) to another (his boyfriend), really showing how ingrained the normalization of abuse/toxicity in Apollo's life is.

He has no red flag sight. He has no alarm bells.

He could walk right into a situation where the word "abuse" is labeled in CAPS and Red and he'd just go "oh shit, what did I do now?"

And his father is all to happy to "let him know" what he did "wrong".

Thanks for coming to my TEDtalk hoped this was a good ride! :D

#the oracle speaks #riordanverse headcanons #the trials of apollo #harmony & order #apollo #zeus #abuse #emotional abuse #parental abuse #physical abuse #asclepius #commodus #helios #copollo #artemis #leto #toa python #python

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nebbyy · 11 days

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Luke Castellan x Child of Apollo!reader - Last date

A/N: guys I’ve still got a few pics that are coming out in this weekend, after those are out I’ll probably create a first masterlist!! Also, there are two series that are going to start in the near future, one for king Baldwin and another one for Countess Nadia so if you’re interested stay tuned!

P.S.: this time I don't know where the paining is from, so if you know whose artist is this from please tell me, I'd really appreciate the help☺️

Warning: angst, mentions of betrayal, SPOILERS for the PJO story (whether it’s books, series or movies). Oh and reader is described as female

I think Luke would’ve been restless for weeks trying to figure out what to say to you when the time would’ve come for him to reveal his secret alliance with Kronos, what words would be best fit to make the idea sound more appealing, to increase the chances of you joining him against the Olympians

But as much as he pondered his words, as much as he tried to convince himself that in the end you’d choose him, there was this feeling he had that you wouldn’t follow him this time. And that made him spiral even further, made him try to push down the dooming feeling and focus instead on how to sound even more convincing, how to just get him to listen to him… or more precisely, listen to Kronos

But deep down, he knew that his choices were gonna make him lose you

Although at some point Luke finally seemed to realize that he got so lost in his own thoughts that he started neglecting you. Well, he didn’t really realize it on his own, it was Connor who made him snap back to reality with his dumb jokes

“Hey Luke you keep ignoring your girl and I’m just gonna steal her away. Bet you wouldn’t even notice huh.” Yeah he got a few slaps on the back of his neck for that

But Connor’s harmless words were not so wrong. He didn’t even realize how long it’s been since he even talked to you properly other than kissing you good morning and goodnight

He didn’t even realize how close the end of summer was getting, which, if he didn’t succeed, might’ve been the last months the two of you would spend together

After a little pause to just panic and frantically walk around the Hermes’ cabin trying to make out what to do, he got an idea

You’ve always love theaters, not only to watch the plays, but also to bask in the atmosphere of it all

And he remembered that when he stumbled upon an abandoned theater in a town not too far from Camp

He knew right then and there that he was gonna take you there that night, so that you could forgive him for his absence and he could forget about the rest on the world and focus on you. Nothing else but you

It didn’t take long for him to steal find a necklace that he knew you would’ve loved to wear, a little trinket that would make him be always near to your heart, even when he wouldn’t have been by your side anymore

He left it in a nice little box on your pillow, along with a little note…

I’m sorry I disappeared, I’ll make it up to you I swear. Meet me at the forest tonight I’m taking you to a place

Your mild disappointment in Luke’s absence quickly morphed into curiosity as you held the note in you hand, holding the necklace close to your heart as you tried to fight back the smile at the thought of his mysterious surprise

Once you reached your rendezvous, he was already there, impatiently waiting for you, holding his hand out to you with an apologetic smile

The walk to the theater, which you still didn’t know was your last stop, was about two hours long, and you mostly spend that time walking silently hand in hand, exchanging very few words

Silence wasn’t anything new between you two, it was actually quite common for you to spend some silent, quality time in each other’s company, with no sound but the world around you

But this time felt different, you could feel that his silence had ulterior motives other than the comfort of quietness

You asked him about it, and he brushed it off saying that his counselor duties have worn him out lately. It was the biggest lie he could’ve told you, but you didn’t question the truth of his words

Because you’d trusted him completely since day one

It broke his heart even further to see how blindly you believed his excuses, so oblivious of the true reason behind his weird behavior. It made him wonder, how broken will you be when you’ll find out the truth

For a moment though, even if brief, all his sorrows disappeared when you finally reached the grandiose abandoned theater, whose splendor still made it stand out despite years of neglect, and your eyes lit up like two new stars to be added to the night sky

You basically rushed him in at that point, earning a laugh from him as he followed you inside

Once you were right before the stage, he swiftly got on top of it before turning around and charmingly offering you his hand to help you up as well

He looked at you for a second, almost entering in a trance as he got lost in the sight of you. But once you called him out, he sheepishly laughed before moving to grab his phone in his pocket, putting some music on before placing it on the ground and turning once again towards you

He knelt before you dramatically, speaking with a mockingly resounding tone, "My lady, would you do me the immense honor of granting me this dance?" You just laughed and nodded

You both danced together, slowly swaying around the stage while holding each other close

You noticed that, as he smiled fondly at you, his smile didn’t really reach his eyes

You wanted to believe what he’d told you, you really did. But there was this gut feeling in you that told you that there was something else going on

“You sure everything’s fine? You don’t look like you’re just tired babe..”, “No no I’m fine, I swear it! I just… I need to be with only you right now.”

You spent so much time there together, that in the end it would’ve been too tiring to go back to Camp straight away, so you opted to spend the rest of the night there

Well, more than opting to it was Luke who begged you to spend the night there with him, forget the rest, you’re both old enough to not have to respond to any of your godly parents

Thinking back to that day, you wonder if you should’ve gotten worried at his bitter words against the gods, instead of simply taking it as his natural aversion to the Olympians

You fell asleep first, lying on the dusty, hard pavement, while Luke stroked your cheek lovingly, staring at your body with a look that he’d spared you the sight of

His heart was about to shatter into a million pieces, all because he knew that this might’ve been his last time spending the night with you, being this close to you

In less than a week, Percy and Annabeth were coming back to Camp, and if they’d succeeded than it wouldn’t take much for them to find out the truth about the theft of Zeus’ lighting

And as much as he wanted to believe his own delusions that you were going to stay by his side through the whole things, he knew that would never be

And he tried, he really tried so hard to keep in his true emotions for the whole evening, but he couldn’t take him anymore when he saw the necklace he’d gifted you just hours before around your neck

And the promise ring he’d given you on your first anniversary

And the little heart he drew on your arm the day before to annoy you

All little things that brought back the memories of almost four years he’d been with you. All memories of something that will soon end

It makes him wonder if you’ll keep all his little gifts, or if you’ll burn and rip and break everything that reminded you of him

He barely registered the tears that fell from his eyes as he held on to you for dear life as if you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you firmly enough

His cries became more intense as time passed, but he remained careful not to be loud enough to wake you up from your slumber. It was a mixture of unintelligible declarations of love and apologies, that he repeated like a prayer

Because in the end, he was indeed praying

Praying for you to see the reasoning behind his actions, for you to realize that he was in the right and that you had to follow him in this revolution

And if you wouldn’t grant him this wish, then at least he prayed you’d still harbor the same love that you felt for him for all these years, that you will someday be able to forgive him, leave a place for him into your heart

#angst #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo luke #pjo apollo #child of apollo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #pjo books #x reader #reader insert #reader x character #afab reader #fluff #lovers to enemies

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harrietpotterandthedemigods · 4 months

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Yay, episode five is out!

I really like that this was the episode for Percy and Grover to show some of their knowledge. Percy is the one to figure out what the deal with the chair is. That it’s a replica of the throne Hephaestus made for Hera and that one of them would have to sit in it. Not Annabeth, Percy. Even though Annabeth most definitely knows the story as well, it’s still Percy who makes the connection.

Meanwhile Grover takes full advantage of his alone time with Ares. He gets him to open up by finding common ground. He’s such a sly little goat!🥰 He knows exactly what to say to get Ares right where he wants him. Percy suggested that they’ll need to be detectives and Grover aced it! He definitely figured out that Ares was somewhat involved, (huge spoiler, I guess, but the book’s been out for 17 years!) but we’ll have to wait and see about how much he actually figured out.

And we also get a glimpse of the winter solace field trips. Like they’re a yearly occurrence, which I always thought was a bit vague in the books but maybe that’s just me. And presentations? Oh, gods! Imagine the year around kids trying to put together their presentations in hopes of impressing their godly parents! What do you even do a presentation about for a Greek god? Unless you’ve done a quest recently I imagine that choice of subject is a bit of a moment of panic.

I really like the portrayal of Ares. Just sort of unhinged and a bit mentally unstable, just what I’d expect from a god of war and bloodlust. I know some people don’t really like PJO Ares not being entirely mythically accurate, but I think there is a reason for that. The gods in universe reflects what humankind sees them as, Apollo comments on that in ToA. And today, the wast majority of people, who only has a vague understanding about Greek mythology, thinks of Ares as a bloodthirsty war god and nothing else. Hence he’s not able to be much else. He hates everything and everyone, just some people slightly less than others.

Also Percy’s comments about how his dad saved him. I get the feeling he annoyed his companions a bit with his talk about it. I think it serves to show that Percy is still open to the idea that the gods aren’t all bad, and maybe some of them do care for them even if it isn’t as obvious as one would wish. He must also be dealing with a lot of conflicting emotions about it. Poseidon saved him when Percy fully expected to die, in stark contrast to Athena, who practically signed her own daughter’s death warrant. Annabeth hoped and trusted that her mother would help them, Percy expected his father to do nothing, and Poseidon ended up helping them without being asked. But no matter how remarkable that may be, it can’t erase twelve years of growing up without a father.

What we directly see it doing, however, is making an impression on Annabeth. She is now realizing that a kid shouldn’t have to grovel at their parent’s feet to get some love and recognition. Percy has been saying it all along and he ended up being right. Poseidon was the better parent at the Gateway Arch, he was the one who saw his kid in danger and stepped in to save him, without being asked. Poseidon’s love for Percy is more unconditional than Athena’s for Annabeth, and maybe Athena’s way of parenting isn’t as right as Annabeth believed. She says it outright. Zeus, Ares and Athena is like that but Annabeth don’t want to be like that anymore, she wants to be more like Percy, which ends up making an impression on Hephaestus. It’s a ripple effect. More and more people, gods as well as humans, can see Percy’s example and decide they want to be more like that too.

It’s overall a great episode, might actually be my favorite so far, but one thing that stood out to me like a sore thumb was the Fates. I just don’t see the reason why Annabeth is the one to see them this time around. In the books it’s Percy, before he even meets Annabeth, and I just don’t see the reason for this change!

On a more positive note, Hermes is up next! Now it’s basically confirmed that the clip with him in the trailer was from the Lotus Hotel and Casino. He hangs out there? Oh, gods! But that must come with a scheduling nightmare, and he’s busy enough as it is!😅 I can’t wait! And again, if you don’t like Lin Manuel Miranda as Hermes, do me a favor and block me, Lin is the Perfect Hermes and you may quote me on that!

#percy jackson #pjo hoo toa #pjo tv adaptation #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo #pjo hermes #pjo tv spoilers #Lin Manuel Miranda as Hermes!

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into-september · 2 months

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WIP reblog game

tagged by @chaos-has-theories and @ladyofthenoodle, thanks~

If you're like me and you have a million WIPs and are anxious about updating them, play this game!

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

After the War (the most long-winded Love Square get together post Hawkmoth defeat ever and not in the fun misunderstandings-and-pining way)

Bread and Roses (no powers LS never met soulmate AU)

If You Read This Line, Remember Not The Hand That Wrote It (I think the human sentimonster storyline was a choice and made it everyone's problem. fic predates S5 though and isn't at all about where canon ended up going)

Five Things Apollo Justice Let Go When Staying In Khura'in (self-explanatory, with complimentary klapollo)

The one about the Reveal that happened before Radio Silence and/or That Conversation between Adrien and Marinette at the end of chapter 2 (alyanette friendship with background LS)

WHAT I'M EXCITED ABOUT:

...so. There were parts of this story that caused me trouble like you wouldn't believe, but the final chapter is essentially just smut and I spent enough of my twenties hanging around kink memes to know that PWP comes easy to me. So this was not the part I was stressing about while trying to keep the deadline for finishing the fic. And the irony is that life literally happened and I have not had the energy to write, far less get into the headspace for this one, for the last few months. There's no one part of it I'm more excited to write than the rest; it's two virgins trying to figure out sex together while carrying the story's theme of having to hide except from the one person who shares the same secret. I mostly just want to get it off my to do list.

There are only two future parts of it I have a clear vision of, so I'll guess my answer will be Adrien modelling the winner of Gabriel's bowler hat competition!

FELIX. You better believe he's here to make life difficult for Alya, have carefully concealed Feelings about both the Adriens, and do something undignified on Gabriel Agreste's grave

The reason it took me ten years to post this was that I really wanted Apollo's first Christmas in Khura'in and Klavier just happens to have a layover there.

It was very important for me that Adrien is enough of a weabo to have the OP of a certain 2002 anime about quirky schoolgirls as his ringtone ("HELLO EVERYNYAN", that's all I'm saying)

POLL TIME!

No pressure tags: @trainsinanime, @generalluxun and @galahadwilder who I think are the only fic-writing mutuals who haven't been tagged

#tag game #fanfic #blah #mira #writing

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fearlessinger · 1 year

Note

How does Athena foil Apollo?

oh in so many ways… Love that you picked her. (Granted Athena herself, like all the gods who aren't Apollo, has had a relatively low amount of screentime in the rrverse so far, but I believe there's enough to paint a pretty complete picture if you read between the lines, and take into account what other characters - mainly Apollo and her children - say/imply of her. So.)

Athena is Zeus's favorite, I would argue even above Artemis, because she's the only one out of all the gods who never feels the need to resort to going behind his back in the course of the three pentalogies. She's the only member of the Olympian council that we know he actively seeks the advice of.

Apollo on the other hand, is possibly the least favored of Zeus' progeny in the present day. In Apollo’s own words, Zeus “hasn’t trusted [Apollo] for millennia”. By the time we meet him, Apollo has been left by his father barely any room to maneuver even within his own domains, as demonstrated by the fact that he can’t even independently choose to cede the reins of the sun chariot to anyone that Zeus might not approve of. He is the one Zeus immediately points to when he needs a scapegoat. He gets hit with a punishment so harsh it's quite literally a miracle he survived, to the point that we find ourselves wondering, in the end, if he was actually meant to.

But it wasn't always like this. Once upon a time Apollo too enjoyed Zeus' favor. He and Athena both used to be Zeus' main enforcers and right hand people. We still see evidence of this in the kind of relationship they seem to have.

Athena is the only one of Apollo’s family members whose counsel he explicitly wishes he could ask during his trials, as opposed to his wishing for material help from most of everybody else. She is the only one of the gods to openly speak against Apollo’s punishment, right in front of Zeus too. She words her disapproval carefully enough that she retains plausible deniability, but just barely. And she alone bets on Apollo’s survival in Hermes’ pool. In that last council scene, she and Apollo are able to silently communicate with just a glance. It’s clear that they share some deep camaraderie, an old well established ease with each other that the recent distance between them has not diminished.

We’re never given the full explanation, but it’s not hard to figure out how their paths must have diverged. It’s not even hard to figure out why. Apollo’s ruled by his heart, while Athena can’t fathom following anything but her brain. As Apollo started more and more chafing under their father's rules, more and more refusing compliance, Athena clearly made the opposite choice. Nowadays they play opposite roles: the beautiful fool and the dutiful lieutenant. Everything about the way Apollo chooses to present himself is a middle finger to his father, whereas Athena is the staunchest of Zeus loyalists.

And yet it looks like they still have a lot of respect for each other. Which isn’t surprising because they have some significant similarities despite their very different characters. Firstly: they share a similar sense of responsibility. It’s undeniable that Athena takes their job very seriously, and much as it may seem that Apollo has the opposite attitude on the surface, we know, having reached the end of TOA, that that was never the truth. Secondly, they are both extremely intelligent and acutely aware of it. They both expect to be the smartest person in the room at any given time. And they are right except of course for when they are wrong bc their intelligence most definitely does not prevent them from being also incredibly dumb. You may be wondering how can I so confidently make this latter assertion, since we never get a peek into Athena’s head, but I think Annabeth saying that the first lesson Athena’s kids must learn is that “mom is always right and don’t you ever dare suggest otherwise” backs me up here.

On this note, it’s interesting to observe that Athena’s children and Apollo’s children both display a strikingly unusual amount of faith/confidence in their divine parents, compared to… basically all the other demigods.

Annabeth won’t ever stop singing Athena’s praises/boasting about being her daughter, even as she makes comments like the one I cited above. And Will famously stood in front of the army that was about to raze CHB to the ground in Apollo’s name and called bullshit on the idea that his father would ever approve of such a thing with enough conviction that the matter was considered settled and nobody even for a second thought of doubting Apollo afterwards.

And yet “dad is always right” is very obviously not an idea that has ever entered the mind of any of Apollo’s children. They show absolutely no reverence, let alone fear, toward their father. Will doesn’t hesitate to legit SCOLD Apollo in front of the whole camp in THO. The loyalty that Apollo’s children have toward their father is nothing like that of the Athena kids toward their mother. In this too it seems like Athena has chosen to stick to the path traced by Zeus, while Apollo has rejected it.

But their divisions aren’t irreconcilable, and that little secret nod she gives Apollo at the end of TON proves it. Remember when I said Athena is the only one out of all the gods who never feels the need to resort to doing stuff behind Zeus’ back? That changes here. For the very first time, we see her take initiative without her father’s knowledge or consent.

#colorsunlikeanythingseen #rrverse #toa #toa meta #*cough* someone ask me about hermes next *cough*

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colorsunlikeanythingseen · 10 months

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TSATS Review

Ok I have finished the sun and the star. My overall feeling is meh. Like it was okay. I wouldn't reread this and wouldn't recommend it ever, but I can somewhat see why someone might like it.

It somewhat works as a standalone book, but it doesn't work as part of a series. The next book of a series should make the rest of the story better. Tsats unfortunately makes the rest of pjo worse.

First of all it ruins Apollo's story and arc. Apollo has finally improved as a person and a god and is more willing than ever to help demigods. Call on him and he'll be there. Spoilers but he isn't there at all. Never shows up once. This is straight up out of character. Even before his character arc he was willing to help the questers find his sister, he gave Micheal his sonic arrows, and he immediately rushed into the woods to save his children risking his newly mortal life in the process. Apollo's absence is out of character.

That isn't the only part it ruins. The crux of the story is saving Bob. Which is a terrible choice narratively. Bob's death was the only part of hoo that had consequences, stakes, and was a core part of Percy's journey. Having that be reversed just sucks. We didn't need Bob back having him gone makes the story better.

I just don't like the inherent comparisons between Percabeth and Solangelo. Tartarus also just seems less scary and far more boring the second time around. We already know what it's like.

Also Bianca is back? Somehow? She chose to be reborn but I guess we are just ignoring that and the implications it has on Nico's character arc.

There are also just a bunch of stuff that just doesn't make sense. Like the camp being empty. That isn't possible. There are reasons that campers can't return to their homes. It is dangerous for demigods out there not to mention the complicated family situations many demigods are trying to escape. I do not know why they chose to do this. It doesn't make sense and doesn't really serve any purpose. But whatever.

Also, Will doesn't bring a weapon. This is stupid and just gets stupider the more you think about it. First of all they are going to Tartarus and Will brought three hoddies instead of a weapon. Will isn't a do no violence type of guy either one of his few scenes in hoo has him wish that he could shoot Octavian off of his high horse. This makes no sense character wise. Second this choice just makes Nico look worse. Like he knows just how bad Tartarus is and doesn't make sure that his boyfriend has a way of defending himself? It doesn't even make sense narratively if you don't want Will to have a weapon have him lose it in a fight. You don't need to do this.

This book just shouldn't have been written. Wish I hadn't read it. Going to ignore it going forward.

#lester papadopoulos #trials of apollo #pjo #hoo #toa #tsats #anti tsats #will solace #nico di angelo

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stardustbarbarians · 1 year

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Too Pretty For War

Chapter 3 (ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9)

A Samuel Kiszka / fem!reader fic

Summary: The only way for Prince Sam to end a war is by marrying the enemy.

Tags: Prince!Sam, war, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers

A/N: I swear I'm sleeping you guys. As always, this serries is dedicated to @safety-sam. Please enjoy! <3

Words: 2.3 k

+++

The wedding was scheduled in two weeks. It was far too soon in Sam’s opinion. It was all happening much too quickly and it felt as if he could barely catch his breath. Between negotiating terms of peace the neither side seemed unwilling to budge on and planning for his betrothal, Sam couldn’t catch a break. All his time was spent planning and he hardly ever saw anyone besides the diplomats and the event planners. Daniel was there with him as well through it all, but that was only a small comfort. At least he was there to keep all the details in check for Sam. Saying that Olympus Yarrow should be the flora of choice in the war room once was enough embarrassment for a millennia.

She was there as well, his betrothed. But it felt as if she wasn’t. All she did was glare at Sam while they shared the same room, only speaking when spoken to in clipped sentences. Her behavior only managed to get on his nerves, making the prince irate and unpleasant by the end of the day. He wanted to just grab her by the shoulders and demand to know what her problem was, but he wouldn’t dare. If he was to make his marriage work, he needed to give her the benefit of the doubt and at the very least his patience.

In order to wind down from his fiancé’s infuriating and unrelenting hatred of him, Prince Sam would find himself going for a swim in the dazzling blue ocean. Nothing calmed his nerves faster than submerging himself into the salty blue. He could spend hours of his time trying to become one with the fish, swimming until his limbs became exhausted. Even then, he wasn’t likely to leave the water. He was, however, called back to the shore by one of the servants. He only obeyed due to him recognizing her as one of his mother’s.

“Your mother requests your presence, your majesty,” she informed after the prince was handed a rag to dry himself with by one of his guards. The guards weren’t new, but their presence had been doubled upon the news of Jake’s death. At the remembrance of the fresh pain of his big brother’s loss, Sam’s hand gripped the rag in his hand so hard his knuckles bleached of all color. With all that had happened, he has failed to fully process Jake’s passing.

“Inform her that I shall make haste after properly dressing,” he responded, pushing his wet locks out of his face. He squinted his eyes against the afternoon sun, making the moronic move of glancing directly at it; he cursed Apollo for placing it directly in his sightline.

While the maid scurried off to inform his mother, Samuel’s platoon of guards safely - if not annoyingly - escorted him to his room. His manservant, Pythius, busied himself getting the prince dry and presentable for the queen. It took longer than Samuel would have liked, but he did not punish his servant. He knew it was a large task to make him look normal after so long in the briny sea.

Finally presentable in a plain pale blue toga and his long hair casually tied into a low ponytail, the shorter strands that framed his face slipping out and resting against his cheekbones. As he made his way towards his mother’s chambers, who should he run into but Princess Y/N. The woman herself had a heavy guard presence following her, a fact she was irritated by. The two of them froze upon seeing one another, unsure of how to communicate. Every interaction they have shared thus far was formal. This was a very informal encounter, as it so happened.

“Your majesty,” she greeted, barely able to keep the patronizing tone out of her voice.

“Princess,” he responded. He wouldn’t stoop to her level if he could help it. Let her act childish, all it achieved was damage upon her kingdom’s reputation.

“Off to seek counsel with that ‘advisor’ of yours? Or perhaps something more transpires between the two of you behind closed doors,” she tauntingly posited, that nasty glint back in her eye.

“My mother,” the prince sternly corrected through gritted teeth. Unwilling to entertain her further, Samuel pushed past his fiancé and continued the trek to his mother’s chambers. Guess all that stress relief was for naught, after all.

How was he meant to govern a kingdom with that vile woman for the rest of his life when he could barely stand to exist in the same room with her?? Beggars cannot be choosers, however, and he was begging for the option of peace for years.

Sam knocked on the queen’s door upon reaching her chambers, waiting for her signal to enter. She was perched in one of the chairs that overlooked the garden attached to her living quarters, sipping from a wine glass as she watched the birds flutter by. She gave him a loving smile upon noticing him, patting the seat beside her for him to sit in; he did as was commanded of him.

“Hello, mother,” he warmly greeted, placing a kiss on the back of her hand in a sign of his deep affection for the woman. She squeezed his hand in an effort to show her requited love for him.

“My beautiful swan. How goes thee, today?” Her voice was like summer sun, warming Sam up both internally and externally.

He was expecting her to ask that, but he was in no way prepared. He knew he couldn’t lie to her, she would be able to tell. “In truth, horrible.”

His mother cooed in sympathy, offering her son her glass of wine. He accepted it with pleasure before taking a large gulp of the rich liquid.

“What pesters you?” she asked after sending one of her servants to fetch another wine skin and a glass.

“I feel as though I am being pulled in hundreds of directions at once,” he admitted, his fingers rubbing his forehead in an attempt to fend off a headache. His eyes were pinched shut as he leaned an elbow onto his knee.

“I’m afraid that is how life is conducted as the ruler of a kingdom,” she informed, an undertone of remorse in her words as she reached over and tucked one of Sam’s loose strands of hair behind his ear. “What else bothers you, Samuel?”

Before he answered, Sam finished off his glass of wine and sighed. She always could read him too well. “Princess Y/N despises me for reasons I cannot begin to understand. I truthfully do not comprehend her deep hatred of me when we have barely conversed.”

“Oh, swan. You must practice patience with her. You cannot imagine what she must be going through as of late.” The queen continued to stroke her son’s hair. It was something she had been doing to him for his entire life. Sam believes that to be the reason he finds such comfort in someone playing with his hair.

“You speak as if you know,” he muttered, looking down at the wine glass he was twisting between his fingers, watching the small puddle of leftover wine move inside the goblet.

“I do. I was like her, forced to be betrothed to a strange man. She suffers more than I: her betrothed is the enemy.”

When framed like that, Samuel seemed to understand her mood. While he was in a similar situation, he had the security of being in his own palace. She was all alone, save for a few guards and diplomats that traveled with her. From what Sam observed, they were not close.

“You are more wise and empathetic than I, mother,” the prince complimented, leaning into his mother’s touch.

“You harbor those same qualities, swan. You lack years of your life, is all,” she softly reassured, fingers still brushing his hair.

“It has been many years since you have called me ‘swan’.”

The matriarch laughed tenderly, pulling her hand away. “Perhaps I am feeling sentimental as of late.”

Of course she longed for the past. The time Samuel was referred to as ‘swan’ more often than his own name were the times when her family was whole.

“You should attempt to seek out the princess and speak with her.”

Before the prince could protest that he had already tried multiple times, his mother cut him off.

“Informally. Speak with her as if you would to Daniel,” she explained. Sam knew that she meant not to try so hard. With a sigh, he set down his empty glass and placed a goodbye kiss on his mother’s head.

“For you, I will try.”

With that, Sam left to find the princess.

+++

The walk from the queen’s chambers to the guest chambers was a short one, only a few minutes’ distance. He stood in front of the door mentally preparing himself to be met with the sounds of sniffling. Instantly the prince froze up. Was she crying? Should he leave?

Waging a mental war, the prince quietly ordered his guards to stay in their place and then knocked. The sound halted, the princess taken by surprise.

“Enter not, please!” she called, her voice wavering as she spoke. Once again conflicted, Sam contemplated his next action. No matter what he chose, he found that he would feel in the wrong. After a moment of deliberation, he opened the door.

Poking his head inside, he found the princess curled up at the foot of her bed with her head buried in her knees. At hearing him enter, however, her head snapped up. Wet and sorrowful eyes rapidly changed to a fury only felt from violation.

“Begone, you mongrel! I ordered you to stay out!” she yelled, throwing the nearest object weakly in his direction. It was a sandal.

Samuel held his hands up in an act of submission, showing that he meant no ill will. “Princess, please, I beg of you. I mean no harm. I simply wish to converse with you.”

The Spartan princess watched him carefully, her eyes piercing daggers into him. However, she made no move to make him leave. Sam took the opportunity to fully step inside the room, closing the door behind him to offer some privacy.

The silence between them was tense. The prince was clearly intruding on a very vulnerable and low moment for Princess Y/N and they were both aware of that fact. They couldn’t look at one another for longer than a few seconds, looking everywhere else in the room. Despite it being his palace, Samuel felt out of place. He was uncertain of where to be, afraid of taking up too much space. Princess Y/N was aggressively wiping at her eyes, attempting to stop the flow of her tears to no avail. Her face was burning red from embarrassment.

“For stating your business in my presence as conversing, I hear you speak very little,” she sharply pointed out, pulling her knees closer to herself as she rested her arms on them.

“In truth, I had not expected to achieve your audience.” Sam stole a glance at her, wringing his hands as he spoke.

It fell silent again.

“Do you long for home?” Sam timidly attempted, bracing for her to snap at him and throw him out of her quarters. His surprise was great when she did no such thing.

“Terribly,” she whispered barely loud enough for Sam to hear. Her hand came to wipe away a fresh tear.

The prince carefully selected his next words. “I imagine they feel as you do.”

“They sent me here,” she quickly and harshly replied. They do not, she implied.

“I believe it is harmful to make such assumptions about your family’s feelings.” Sam’s heart was pounding. He was trying his hardest to maintain theconversation; it was the longest they’d ever shared.

The princess cold scoffed, turning her head away from her betrothed. Her jaw was clenched and her hands fidgeted with her Chiton. She didn’t believe him.

“I know nothing of your family, but I do not believe them to be as cruel as you interpret them,” he attempted again, slowly sinking to the floor. He figured that if he was on her level physically, perhaps she would not feel the need to be so defensive.

At his words, she looked him dead in the eye. He had to keep himself from flinching. Her tone was just as friding as her gaze.

“What do you know of my family?! All you Athenians think of us Spartans as barbaric brutes with no thoughts in our heads! You run rumors of us claiming we solve all quarrels with violence and are incapable of reason!”

“Those are the thoughts of my father, not I. I share blood with that man, nothing more,” Sam explained in a tone that left no room for interpretation.

She regarded him, a skeptical look in her eye but her anger dissipating.

A silence fell over them once again, but it was significantly less tense than the last one. Heaving a sigh, Sam stood up from his spot from the floor. Princess Y/N’s eyes followed his movement, a look of deep sadness in them.

“I will not bother you any longer. I do not expect you to take up this offer, but you will always find a confidant in me.” They stared at one another for a moment, her big eyes blinking as tears fell down her cheeks.

The prince made for the door, his hand about to pull on the handle when he was interrupted.

“Wait!” Sam halted, looking over his shoulder to see the princess reaching out a hand towards him. “Tell no one of this, I beg.”

She had a desperate look on her face. He understood the request; she had a reputation to uphold as a strong warrior. Taking pity, he gave her a reassuring and genuine smile.

“This moment will not pass these lips,” he promised. And he meant it. This was his chance to earn her trust in him and he intended to keep his word. No one would know of this moment, not even Daniel.

Sam left her chambers feeling slightly better about their whole arrangement. Perhaps there was hope for civility between the two opposing royals after all.

+++

Taglist:

@doodle417 @sammykiszkasunusedshoes @jmks-housewife @ageoferin @alwayssotiredbutneverofyou @etoilesnoor @ascendingtostardust @godlygreta @s0livagant @gretavanflowerpower @morganic-goods @dannythedog @baguettejuliette @fan-girl-97 @gaby-gvf @age-of-nyahh @mzbrightside @myownparadise96 @xserenax-13 @sammysvanfeet @loofypoofy @chalametpwk @seventieswhore @razorbladekiszka @kdarling1 @capturethechaos @unfortunatelykristin @welightthefire @gretavanfleas @sammiejane22 @satanplayshisfluteforhim @starsasone @mintysammykiszka @writingcold @tearsofbri @gretasmokerising @streamofstardust @lunaindigoraven @jakeydoesit @tripthelightfandomtastic @sunfl0wer-power @wingedgardener2000 @gretavanbitches @teddiie @gardensgatedaisy @sparrowofthedawnsworld @angelbabyyy99 @sammysprincess @whollyfreeamongststars @gretaswhore28 @l0rdoffli3s @kay-jordan @lightmyloverry @kenzie18

Taglist Form

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #too pretty for war #sam kiszka #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x y/n #samuel francis kiszka #sammy gvf #danny wagner #daniel robert wagner #danny gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf

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2nd2ndalto · 1 year

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I Got a Bad Case of Loving You

Hey, it's a chiropractor AU! In which everyone is a little inappropriate, tbh.

Written for @writers-choice prompt "kink in neck". I spent some time agonizing over whether I could come up with anything for this prompt and then came up with two things, because I am a giant nerd. Title is from the song Bad Case of Loving You by Robert Palmer.

___

“I’m telling you Nico, you’ve got to go see my back guy! He’s dirt cheap.”

Nico makes a face. “I don’t know, Leo. Isn’t it like… healthcare? It seems like ‘dirt cheap’ shouldn’t be a selling point for healthcare.”

“Look.” Leo bounces onto the couch beside his roommate and Nico winces, lifting a hand to his sore neck. “You’ve been in pain for a week. What are your other options?”

“This guy is a chiropractor?” Nico asks reluctantly.

Leo looks unsure. “I mean yeah, basically.”

“Basically?”

“Whatever.” Leo throws up his hands. “He’s never steered me wrong. He fixed me up after I fell off Jason’s balcony.”

Nico looks at him in horror. “You fell two stories. Shouldn’t you have gone to a hospital?”

“This guy is cheaper,” Leo says, as if this is all the explanation that is necessary.

Nico blinks. Leo hasn’t stopped bouncing on the couch and it hurts.

“Okay, fine. I’ll think about it, okay?” Nico gingerly lifts his arm to look at his watch. “Don’t you have to go to class?”

Leo’s expression abruptly turns to one of horror. “Fuck.”

Moments later he’s out the door and Nico walks stiffly to the hall closet, wondering if they own a heating pad. ___

A few days later, still unable to properly lift his arm or turn his head to the left, Nico is ready to admit defeat and ask Leo for Dr. Apollo’s number. Leo seems unreasonably thrilled. “You’ll be thanking me, just wait!” he crows. Nico makes a face, but calls the number anyway.

The place is just down the block from their apartment, so that’s a plus. The appearance of the office, on the other hand, is… not reassuring. The tiny, dimly-lit reception area is cluttered with salt lamps and crystals and various knick-knacks. The front room is deserted when Nico arrives, and he sits down hesitantly on a wicker chair, glancing anxiously towards a beaded curtain separating the waiting area from the rest of the clinic. The room smells like a tarot card reading place Piper once made him go to with her.

Nico half-considers turning and walking right back out the door, but he’s living on the last vestiges of his student loans and he’s tired of not being able to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Besides, Leo’s been to see this dude before, and he’s still standing.

“Mr. di Angelo?” comes a melodious voice from behind the beaded curtain, and Nico jumps.

“I’m Dr. Apollo, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man says smoothly, pushing the beads aside and crossing the small waiting room. He holds out his hand and Nico cautiously shakes it. Dr. Apollo is… a bit blinding. His teeth are positively gleaming, his shirt unbuttoned just a little too far to be considered professional. He has a deep, almost bronze tan and bleached blonde hair.

But Nico rises and follows the man into a back room that’s decorated much like the waiting room, candles flickering on every surface, incense smoke curling towards the ceiling.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Nico tells him, but has the distinct impression that Dr. Apollo is only half-listening, waiting for his next chance to speak.

He’s not entirely wrong. Once Nico is situated on the exam table, the - doctor? - Nico honestly isn’t positive - makes a show of turning on soft music and lighting several more candles, all the while speaking in a soothing tone. But whatever tranquil effect might have been achieved is mostly ruined by the way Dr. Apollo spends the entire (blessedly short) appointment dropping names of supposed celebrities he's treated, none of whom Nico’s ever heard of.

Despite his manner, though, and the seemingly unnecessary flourishes of his hands as he works, Dr. Apollo does seem to know what he’s doing, and Nico’s neck feels better almost immediately. So he supposes it’s worth all the weirdness.

“Aha!” Dr. Apollo announces, teeth gleaming, as Nico’s neck makes a muted popping sound. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Um, yeah,” Nico agrees, carefully tilting his head. “That does feel a lot better.”

“Every single time! Tell your friends!” Dr. Apollo beams. Then, “William!” he calls in a carrying voice, turning to the side, “I’m ready for you!”

Dr. Apollo leans slightly forward as he’s preparing to stand, taking a deep inhale.

“Mmm. Has anyone ever told you that your hair smells of petrichor? It’s enchanting.”

Nico blinks.

“Dad!” a voice squeaks in horror.

“What? What did I do?”

“Dad you can’t just - excuse us for just a moment, Mr di Angelo,” says the other voice. Positioned as he is, Nico can’t see the other speaker. The door closes softly and Nico can hear a whispered, heated conversation in the hallway. He only catches bits and pieces of it, but he’s pretty sure he hears can’t just go around smelling people’s hair, grossly unethical and completely inappropriate.

A moment later the door opens again. “I’m so, so sorry about him,” says a young man’s voice. “Obviously I need to have another chat with him about his people skills.”

This voice is softer than Dr. Apollo’s, harassed-sounding at the moment, but sunny and gentle, and Nico turns his head to see a boy about his age, freckled with tousled blonde hair, his face flushed red.

“It’s - it’s okay,” Nico reassures him.

“It’s really not,” the boy says, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. “One of these days someone’s going to sue him, or call the cops or -” he shakes his head. “Anyway. I’m supposed to put some heat on your neck before you’re done. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Nico watches the boy as he moves across the small exam room to a stainless steel cabinet, removing a heat pack and wrapping it expertly in a towel. Knowing that he’s related to Dr. Apollo, Nico can see the resemblance. The boy is like a diluted version of his father, but in the best possible way, his manner mild and unobtrusive, his sandy blonde hair curling softly at the back of his neck. When he turns back to Nico, his smile is like warm light on a soft spring evening. Enchanting Nico thinks, then internally scolds himself. Talk about being completely inappropriate.

The boy approaches the table with the heat pack. “If you can just lift your head a bit, I can put this under your neck.”

Nico does, definitely not making a note of how soft the boy’s fingers are when they accidentally brush his cheek, nor how good he smells.

“Again, I’m so sorry about my dad,” the boy says.

“It’s fine,” Nico shrugs. “The price is right.”

“Yeah, I know,” the boy grimaces. “We moved here from Greece when I was a kid. He was a chiropractor over there, but he never got re-certified in the US. Maybe because of his appalling bedside manner,” he finishes in a loud voice directed towards the hallway.

A door slams in the distance. The boy shakes his head. He turns to set a timer.

The heat on Nico’s neck is actually really nice. Especially now that he’s abruptly free of the pain that’s been trailing him around for almost two weeks. Nico finds his eyes drifting closed.

“Um - Mr. di Angelo?” Nico blinks his eyes open. The boy is standing next to the exam table, closer than Nico expected.

“Oh, it’s - it’s Nico.” Nico holds out his hand.

The boy gives him that soft smile again and god, maybe it's because of the comforting heat on his tired neck or the incense in the air, but Nico's stomach does a pleasant little flip.

“Will,” the boy says, shaking Nico’s hand.

“Will… Apollo?”

“Oh. No.” The boy’s face goes a bit pink. “Will Solace.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

They gaze at each other for a moment during which Nico is quite sure that Will Solace’s face goes even pinker. Then he abruptly turns his gaze to his feet.

“Um. You’ve got about ten minutes left,” he glances at the timer. “I’m just going to sit over there and… avoid my dad for a few minutes. Please just rest - feel free to ignore me.” And Will turns to sit at the small desk in the corner, reaching for a textbook.

Ignoring this boy is pretty much the last thing on Nico’s mind, though.

“You’re not a chiropractor?” Nico asks after a moment.

The boy turns in his chair, open textbook on his lap. “God, no. I’m pre-med. My dad was short-staffed today and he talked me into helping out.”

“He’s… interesting,” Nico says.

Will snorts. “Yeah, that’s one word for it. I um… I didn’t grow up with him around. We’re not really close… I don’t know. We have kind of a weird relationship.”

Nico nods. “I can relate. My stepmom is okay, but my dad… well. That’s not a ten-minute conversation.”

Will smiles, setting his book on the desk behind him and closing it.

“Are you a student too?”

“Yeah. Forensic pathology.”

Will’s eyes light up, which isn’t the reaction Nico’s accustomed to when he talks about his choice of career.

“That’s so cool!” Will exclaims. “I thought about forensic pathology too. I’m still not sure about my major, to be honest. I bet we’ve taken some of the same classes, though!”

After that, the conversation flows easily, and the ten minutes pass by far too quickly.

“How are you feeling?” Will asks as Nico pushes himself up. He turns his head experimentally.

“Really good, actually. I guess your dad knows his stuff,” Nico says.

“Lucky for him.” Will rolls his eyes.

Nico hops down from the table, and maybe he’d gotten a little too comfortable there, because his vision goes dark for a second as his feet hit the floor, and he stumbles.

“Whoa there,” Will says, grabbing his arm, and when Nico’s vision does clear, it’s to the sight of wide, blue, blue eyes searching his face. It doesn’t particularly help the dizziness.

“Are you okay? You look a little stunned.” Will says, his brow furrowed.

“Yeah, just…” Nico shakes his head. “Um. Orthostatic… um…”

“Hypotension?” Will grins.

“Yeah, that,” Nico breathes. And somehow Will’s hand is still on his arm, and the candlelight is turning his hair the most gorgeous shade of gold, and Nico can’t look away from those blue, blue eyes, and -

The door suddenly swings open and the two jump apart.

“Mr. di Angelo!” Dr. Apollo exclaims. “How’s the neck?”

“Yeah - um. Good,” Nico stammers, attempting to regain the powers of speech.

“Wonderful!”

Will trails behind them as Dr. Apollo leads Nico back to the front desk.

Nico pays for his treatment, stealing another glance at Dr. Apollo’s beautiful assistant out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Apollo gives Nico his receipt and several of his business cards. Then -

“Oh!” the older man exclaims, glancing at Nico’s file. “You live right down the street! My son’s band is playing at the cafe next door tomorrow night!” He grabs Will around the shoulders and pulls him in. “You should come!”

Will looks mortified. “Dad, please don’t. I’m sure Nico has better things to do on a Friday night.”

But Nico’s heart gives a little leap. “No, actually that - that sounds great,” he says, and he’s pretty sure Will looks pleased. He can probably convince Leo to come along so he doesn’t have to sit there feeling completely awkward on his own.

“Wonderful!” Dr. Apollo exclaims. And then he’s immediately distracted by another patient coming in through the door. There’s barely enough room for the four of them in the waiting room, so Nico makes a hasty exit. He’s standing in front of the little shop tucking his receipt into his backpack when the door opens behind him.

“Hey,” Will says shyly. “I um - I just wanted to apologize for my dad again, and - here.” He hands Nico a photocopied green flier. “That’s for the show tomorrow,” he explains. “You totally don’t have to come, but -”

“No,” Nico shakes his head. “I’ll be there.”

Will’s flushes. “Okay. Cool. Then I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Nico grins.

And as Nico watches Will retreat back into the shop, he thinks he might just have more than one thing to thank Leo for.

#percy jackson and the olympians #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #rated g #writer's choice #one shot #my writing #apollo #leo valdez

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toasecretsanta · 1 year

Text

its grind time (real)

A gift for Badboisupreme written by @manrats using the prompt “Apollo and Thalia being little shits together and messing with Zeus” (though uh i'm not sure if i actually filled the prompt that well)

no warnings i HOPE i think its just like normal apollo Grief

“I’m sorry.”

She turns. “What for?”

An inhale, exhale. Steady. “You don’t know?”

Thalia frowns. “If this is about Jason, listen –”

“No – no, gods. I don’t – I mean, I am sorry, Thalia, I promise, but this is –”

Breathe.

“This, this isn’t your problem. Not Jason. She shouldn’t have asked you –”

“Hera? It was my choice to make.”

“That isn’t – it’s not your duty!”

“No, you don’t understand. I agreed. They all agreed. We want this.”

“That – regardless, Thalia, look, you can’t. Hera shouldn’t have dragged you into it. It’s not your war to fight, Thalia, listen –”

“No. My birth dragged me into it. My existence dragged me into it. Everything I’ve gone through, everything that everyone has gone through under his rule – can’t you see? This is exactly my war to fight.”

Silence hangs in the air. They both know exactly what remains unsaid.

This is for Jason.

And isn’t it sad, truly, that Thalia and Hera, enemies from the start, had only become allies due to her baby brother, her darling champion’s death? The death that – gods, gods, he was the only one at blame for.

“That –” he exhales, long and winded, words lost, “That isn’t what I meant. And look, it… it’s completely your right to want to fight. I’d – sorry, if I were you, I’d hate this too. But it’s just. Thalia, I swear… disregard everything you’ve seen him do in the past. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”

His heart – his stupid, stupid, heart – thrums in his chest, does flip flops, traces the firey outline of a Catherine wheel’s path in the sky. Thalia can’t go. She will not win against this final beast, as good as she is, as much goodwill their father has for her.

Apollo knows that firsthand.

She narrows her eyes. “I know that. You’re gods, of course in the end I don’t know. But he needs to pay. I need him to pay. I’m going, Apollo, I can’t just not.” Her shoulders are tightly strung, like the string of a bow just about to be let go.

He can’t, can’t can’t can’t can’t can’t. It’s far from a stupid war that they are fighting, but he thinks of heroes and sacrifice, thinks of every person that he’s ever failed, and wonders what the point really is. His head starts to pound. Because isn’t Apollo supposed to be saving their children, not just sending them off into war to fight their parents’ battles yet again? “Thalia… I can’t just let you die,” he pleads, settles on instead.

She reads him like a book, though, sees the grim line that his mouth had settled into, relaxes fractionally. Lets her voice become a little softer. “Look, Apollo. He’s terrible. The system is terrible. We both know that, and we know that it has to change. It has to happen, Apollo, and this time this war is our choice to fight.”

But it wasn’t her duty, and it wasn’t your fault, your punishment, he wants to scream, wants to tear into the sky for making things this way. For making them all just pawns in the end, subjects to his every whim, for making it this neverending war. Wants him hurt and gone and dead.

He wants everything, and yet nothing at all, at heart, because he is not a good person. He would miss him, he thinks, hysterical, would miss their goods days together. Father and son, father and son, all the way down the lineage, and the son always kills the father. His hands begin to shake, and truly was that not pathetic? This whole conversation was, in the end, and he lets go a shaky laugh. “Hades, Thalia. I…”

He has to fight this war. Needs it, really, but do they? Must they? He can’t let another sibling die, not like this, and even Thalia in the end was not invulnerable, could have her life snipped away like just another string of the Fates. “I’m so sorry,” he says again, disconnectedly, repeats his apologies like he’s just another broken toy whose company-manufactured words mean nothing.

Beside him, Thalia tries to crack a smile. Punches his shoulder one, two, three, seven times. “There you go,” she says, grins a little. “Your lucky number. Now let’s go fuck up Zeus’s shit. Together.”

Apollo rises, and his shoulders are still curved.

#toasecretsanta #manrats #badboisupreme #pjo apollo #thalia grace #trials of apollo #toa #riordanverse #trials of apollo fanfic #toa fanfic #riordanverse fanfic

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