#I wrote this to distract from the pain that is the rest of the finale

[youroomwasquare]

Marcy Wu, and Why Her Unfinished Character Arc Worked.

I'm gonna ramble a bit about our favorite newtopian ranger, marcy wu!!

so. I, like many others in the fandom, was a bit disappointed with how the show handled marcy's growth and character arc. it felt rushed.. incomplete, and overall messy. I felt that marcy's growth wasn't given the same attention and care that anne & sasha's growth was. coupled with the overall tragedy of marcy's character and role in the story, I was feeling extremely discontented with marcy's character.. until I realized that the show writers may have unintentionally made that the point of marcy's arc.

because LISTEN. out of all of them, marcy was the one who came away with the least positive things from amphibia. she didn't connect with her amphibian charges (she even admits it herself in the finale, and says that she wished she got to know them better), she was more focused on the technical and worldly aspects of amphibia, and while she did come into her own, she wasn't able to address and tackle her underlying core issues in the way that anne and sasha were. --

the two main themes of amphibia are learning to embrace change and letting go. and all the story arcs of the calamity trio showcase this in different ways (that's a discussion for another time, however). of these two themes, marcy's arc leans more towards the letting go aspect. but here's the thing. that was her main problem. marcy's greatest fear is being alone, and her greatest flaw is her inability to let go. marcy couldn't FATHOM a world without anne and sasha. they were her biggest support system, and by moving, marcy was essentially stranded. she had a hard time connecting with people, and she didn't have the social skills that anne and sasha did. so to her, moving was the absolute WORST thing that could have happened. she was unable to live in a world without anne and sasha, and so she didn't. she chose to take matters into her own hands, and as long as she was able to get anne and sasha on board, everything would be fine, right? wrong. we obviously saw how catastrophic that was, both for marcy and everyone around her. it was beat into marcy's head repeatedly how reckless and stupid and downright fatal her mistake could have been, how fatal it was. marcy's biggest lesson in amphibia was that there are some things you will have to let go of. no matter how desperately you latch onto them, there will always be claw marks left behind.

--

my point however, is that this was marcy's only major flaw. marcy was a flawed character, deeply flawed in some ways, but from what I observed, she was never flawed in the way anne and sasha were. outside of her major flaw.. marcy was a pretty well rounded person. and of course, there is growth to be left desired, but most of marcy's (visible) flaws were communication, and the ability to make yourself be truly seen in a friendship.. and they aren't really even flaws. more just things she needs to work on.

unlike anne, she didn't have self-esteem issues. she was pretty confident in her abilities and her interests, as shown by the first temple. surrounded by the right people (which at the time, were unfortunately not anne and sasha), she would've flourished. and in amphibia, she did. because for once, she was allowed to be the person she truly wanted to be. and unlike sasha, she didn't have horrendous control issues. anne and sasha's flaws are what I like to call character flaws, flaws that are innate and come from you; ie, they aren't as a result of other people's actions. anne and sasha were allowed to address and properly correct their character flaws because amphibia (and the places they landed in) was the perfect environment for them to see their flaws and to see the consequences that came with them. sasha learned that trying to control everyone and everything around you will only drive them away, and end up destroying both them and you in the process. her strength came from lifting people up, allowing them to rise WITH her instead of pushing them down like she used to. anne learned that self love is important, and in order to become the best version of yourself, you need to surround yourself with love, and in turn, it will come back to you. anne's heart comes from the people around her. their love allowed her to give love tenfold-- both to herself and the people around her. their major flaws only got resolved because of amphibia.

but marcy? her main flaw, which is letting go? that could not be resolved in amphibia, no. because amphibia only amplified this flaw. because choosing to go to amphibia, making the conscious decision to run away, is the entire reason why this flaw is most prominent. marcy flourished in amphibia, yes, but she was never able to address her major flaw. because of a multitude of different reasons, of course, but also because to marcy, amphibia was another out. another way to run from her problems instead of facing them head on and dealing with the fallout. anne dealt with the fallout. she stood up to sasha, for ONCE in her life, and watched her plummet down a cliff in return. (this is a weak point, but for the sake of parallels, I can't take it out.) sasha dealt with the fallout. she betrayed anne, once, twice, and was forced to go back to wartwood, anne's town, with the knowledge that she and anne are no longer friends, no longer anything. marcy's way of dealing with the fallout.. was not the core. to many, the core may be a physical personification of all of marcy's flaws coming back to bite her in the behind, but I disagree. the core was a cruel, merciless, and downright horrible way for marcy to learn her lesson, yes, but the core was not the fallout. the fallout, that showed marcy the consequences of her major flaw, was in true colors. was in the throne room. was in watching anne and sasha's faces twist into horror and disgust, respectively. the fallout was in living with the fact that everything she did was for nothing, and that she still had to live in a world without anne and sasha, that in her mind, they now hated her. that was when marcy hit rock bottom. and when you hit rock bottom, you have nowhere to go but up, right?

--

marcy did atone. in the core, in the face of everything she could have ever wanted being handed to her on a silver platter, she said no. she swatted aldrich’s hand, and said that for once in my life, I'm not going to run away. I'm going to face this head on. and why did she do that, pray tell? because of anne and sasha. because everything that marcy wu did depended on anne and sasha. because in her mind, even if they hated her, she'd rather face their potential wrath instead of accepting a reality without them. the real them. it's natural, of course. her major flaw was not of just letting go. it was letting go of anne and sasha.

--

and so, the reason why marcy wu's major flaw could never be resolved in amphibia, is because amphibia is a personification of marcy wu's major flaw. sure, she had good moments, and things about it she will always cherish and remember (and less good things that she’ll always remember), but marcy wu could not start getting better, could not start healing, until after she left amphibia. going through that portal meant many things, for all of them, but for marcy, I think it represented her final act of truly letting go. of letting go of her escapism, and her tendency to run away. of letting go of the old version of her, who came to amphibia with the intent of being with anne and sasha forever. going through that portal also symbolizes the end of that version of their friendship, the version that marcy kept chasing after. and I think that’s one of the many reasons why the only way to close off marcy’s journey, at least from our point, is by having her move. the move, and how marcy dealt with it, was what started this entire, crazy journey. and by choosing to have marcy move at the end of the series, even after everything that happened, is a brilliant move from the show’s writers. because it shows that marcy truly did learn from her time in amphibia. she HAS accepted and is taking the steps to overcome her major flaw, and I think more than anything, that is proof of the growth that marcy is capable of. marcy acknowledges that anne and sasha changed, yes, but through her actions and words, she also acknowledges that she changed as well. going through the portal, going back to earth, facing everything is a symbol of marcy's growth. because the marcy we were introduced to would have never done that.

--

going to amphibia changed all three of them. and even though we only get to see anne and sasha’s growth, marcy’s growth is SO poignant as well. I think it was for the best to leave marcy’s arc unfinished, because it shows that she still has a lot to learn and a LOT of healing to undergo. marcy’s final arc in the show has drawn to a close. but her character has not. and the amount of opportunities, possibilities, lessons, friendships, love, and more, are limitless. I also think it's poignant that we're left with a sort of open ended interpretation as to what happened to marcy after she moved. as for her friendship with the girls, I have many thoughts on that, but that’s also a discussion for another time. I think I’ll close it off by saying that moving was good for marcy in a different way as well: it allowed the calamity trio to truly come into their own. their reconciliation with marcy in all in was proof that they want to give their friendship another try, and that they are better off in each other’s lives. but showing that they drifted apart, came back together, and redefined their friendship on their own terms is beautiful. I think even without amphibia, they eventually would have to come apart. not forever of course, but long enough to carve out their own paths and figure out what they want to do with their lives. I know the fandom loves the idea of them being codependent messes together (it’s also a guilty pleasure for me lol) but I LOVE the fact that in canon, they allowed their childhood friendship to morph into something new, something better. in the wise words of anne boonchuy, change can be difficult, but it’s how we grow. but of the things you let go, you’d be surprised what makes its way back to you.

not to get all sappy, but out of all of them, I think I’m the proudest of marcy. and I relate to her a lot! so writing this was extra personal :,)

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg.  It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed.  Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it.  You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book.  The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.”  Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!”  Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean.  It’s important.”  Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!”  Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away.  Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed.  Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee.  You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell.  Straight there.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect two hundred dollars.  And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans.  If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room.  Bobby was always protective of you, his niece.  You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped.  Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer.  That man did not mince his words.  And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel.  Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg.  The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this.  If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk.  You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells.  You said he quieted the noise in your head.  Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home.  You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way.  Not that slutty was bad.  Dean liked slutty.  But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink.  That’s what was missing.  Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions.  A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move.  Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.”  You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack.  The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry.  He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside.  He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid.  You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt.  You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way.  The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were.  His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been.  He couldn’t.  As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.”  He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt.  He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…”  Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain.  The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan.  He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled.  He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths.  He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them.  Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening.  Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this.  You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down.  Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy.  You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped.  You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time.  You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat.  You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal.  Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other.  Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet.  Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare.  Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot.  Fuck, he was good with his tongue.  Everything about him was good except his image.  Bad boy Dean Winchester.  He was every woman’s wet dream.  He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen.  But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid.  Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot.  You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life.  He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm.  When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down.  He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while.  You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.”  He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself.  “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it.  He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms.  It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you.  You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have.  Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this.  God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips.  His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.”  He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.”  You sighed.  Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it.  It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on.  He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you.  When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.”  You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said:  What can I say?  I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs.  Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved.  Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest.  You were both content.  Both had goofy grins on your faces.  Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?”  Sam said.  “I need that book.”

“NO!”  You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.”  Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!”  Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again.  In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name.  Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

[mirohlayo]

F1 DRIVERS TAKING CARE OF YOU

ON YOUR PERIODS

including mclaren, ferrari, mercedes + verstappen, ricciardo & gasly

・WARNING : mention of period/cramp, fluff

・NOTE : i didn't wrote it in fem reader so this is for anyone who is menstruating

!! english is not my first language !!

ᦈ OSCAR PIASTRI 81

he would be the most caring and understanding boyfriend. he knows how painful your period cramps are and he hates seeing you suffer like this. so he does his best to help you, either by buying you your favorite snacks or putting a hot water bottle on your stomach. hums in your ear sweet words like "everything is okay" to boost up your mood. lots of kisses on your forehead to keep your energy. also he'll plan in advance your others periods to make sure he'll be ready to take care of you when they'll come back.

ᦈ LANDO NORRIS 4

poor boy would be completely lost at first. he doesn't really know what to do, he starts panicking because he doesn't know how to ease your pain. so he would call his sisters to get help and advices. he'll do everything they told him to do : buying you extra snacks, making hot tea and any warm drinks, start a stock of painkillers. he joins you in bed, tucking you close to his body and cuddle you with tons of kisses here and there. he would also gently massages your tummy because he thinks it ease the pain. literally became the sweetest boyfriend.

ᦈ CHARLES LECLERC 16

he doesn't think twice before running over the store to buy you your survival kit. i know for sure he would blush really hard when the cashier scans the pads right in front of him. but then run back again to your apartment to check on you. he won't leave your side, he's stuck with you until your periods end. he'll always ask you if you're fine, if you need anything, if you want something. when your only answer was "you" he'll get so shy but happily cuddles you, pressing some kisses on your poor tummy. he just hopes pain would disappear because he doesn't want to see you suffer.

ᦈ CARLOS SAINZ 55

like when you're sick, he knows how to deal with your periods. princess treatment on top. he would cook your favorite food and put your favorite movie on the tv. he keeps an eye on you from the kitchen and if he hears you growl from pain he's already next to you in a second. also prepares you a hot bath to relax your stomach from cramps. he'll put all his being and all his efforts to make sure your periods are a little less painful. he won't rest for a whole week, and of course he doesn't forget to fill you with so much love, like with soft kisses on your cheeks.

ᦈ LEWIS HAMILTON 44

literally the softest boy ever. he hates when you're on your periods because it looks like you're going to die. he perfectly knows what to give you. all you need to do is to rest on the bed and the rest he takes care of. he's just so caring, so sweet and gentle with you. he would constantly rub your stomach, sometimes pressing a hot water bottle on it. he'll also play with your hair, just do anything to distract you from the pain. he makes sure your full attention is on him and not on your cramps. and if so, he'll curse the cramps because they make his poor baby suffer.

ᦈ GEORGE RUSSEL 63

he would 50% knows how to handle it and 50% messes up. like of course he's aware of your cramps and how much it is painful. but he's thinking about one million ways to help you to go through it that he ends up getting headaches. he would do literally anything he thinks is good for you. some things work and some just worsen the pain. and he'll panic about it, stress fills his body. but you reassure him, and after you told him what he needed to do, everything was finally okay. he becomes so much caring, and he's so gentle with his touches. he'll learn about it and you can count on him to make you feel better, thanks to his cuddles.

ᦈ MAX VERSTAPPEN 33

periods ? he always forget them, but don't worry he's always ready to help you and to take care of you. he gives you extra comfort and extra treats. tea, snacks, hot things to soothe the pain. if you crave something he'll literally search it everywhere for you. his lover needs the best treatment during periods. but i feel like he would be curious about it, and while you're laying on the bed he'll ask you about periods and how painful it is. just to understand better in order to be the perfect caring boyfriend for your next periods.

ᦈ DANIEL RICCIARDO 3

what is even periods ? first time you told him you were on your periods he didn't get it. but then he saw your painful face and he knew something was wrong. when it's your first day he always stresses, he doesn't know how to act anymore. like completely lost. but he quickly put himself together and manage to take care of you. he's for sure joking about it sometimes, like teasing you gently just to put a smile on your face. but he knows how painful it is and so he always ends up in your arms, his head on your tummy as he sleeps and strokes your waist. he hopes this ease your cramps.

ᦈ PIERRE GASLY 10

he transforms into a strict boyfriend. because he wants you to rest for your whole periods time. he asks you every minutes if you're good and if you need anything. you just keep saying that you're all okay but still he's not completely relaxed. if you sigh softly he's already overthinking about it, thinking something is wrong. so to calm him, he would pull you into his arms, your head on his chest. kisses the top of your head and rubbing your stomach with one hand. he'll end up sleeping with you too, and dream about how long your periods will be, because he can't hold seeing you suffer from it.

[starlost-mochi-x]

Low-key can I pls request Chris comforting reader on her period because I'm on my right now and I want him as my personal hot water bottle.

Thank you!!

omg first request!!

hopefully this meets your expectations hahah... i wrote reader having a really bad period... hopefully that's fine for you <3 feel better!

he comforts you on your period - bang chan

pairing: bang chan x reader

summary: you're struggling with your period and chan helps you out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, lil bit angsty. mentions of undressing, feeling nauseous & dizzy, cramps and period pain, reader has a period (obviously)

a/n: comments are appreciated... and whoever's reading this, feel better! and eat some dark chocolate <3

You groan for the fourth time as another debilitating cramp whacks you right in the gut, followed straight after by a dizzying wave of nausea. You're helpless to do anything but whine and writhe weakly on the bed, tangling the sheets and causing uncomfortable lumps of the blanket to pool up around you. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending.

You can't even call for Chan.

He's working from home today due to the severe weather, shut in his little studio down the apartment hallway. The rain clatters and thunders against the windows and balcony door, speckled with tiny crystal shards of hail ice. He's probably busy working away at some song while on call with the rest of 3RACHA. You can picture him busily writing down song lyrics in his notebook, headphones and black cap askew on his head, and hand messily smudging the dark, scented ink of his words on the page. His pretty, dark eyes shining, wide and focused as he does what he does best.

That pleasing mental image of your boyfriend is quickly chased away by another wave of nausea and you curl in on yourself, fighting the desperate urge to scream with whatever you have left. You didn't bother taking painkillers when the first cramp hit this morning, thinking you could muscle through it. Every time, you think you can handle the pain, and every time, you're proven completely and utterly wrong. And now you're immobilised on the bed, unable to do anything but face the bloody wrath of your monthly cycle.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Groaning, you shift achingly slowly to the side, trying to alleviate the pain. For a moment, you consider calling for Chan, but you doubt you'd be able to shout loud enough, and more so, you don't want to disturb him. The comeback is soon, and he was stressed enough at not being able to go to the company after seeing the state of the weather. He'd woken you up with a kiss, ordered breakfast to be delivered to the door, and disappeared, only pausing to throw on a hoodie and his usual cap. The studio door had shut and you had heard no more. He's been working all morning. He had said to try not to disturb him unless you really needed something, but you understood. He had a lot to do. But...

Biting your lip guiltily, and then wincing at the dull pain pooling in your stomach, you do your best to slide off the bed. It doesn't matter how much it hurts; you need painkillers. And right now, Chan can't afford to be distracted, so you muster up all of your strength to sit upright.

One foot touches the cold floor, and then the other. Both hands fly to your stomach and you double over, hair brushing your knees as you wait for the dizzying nausea to pass. It feels like you're being slammed in the gut with a sledgehammer set on fire. Attempting to regain your bearings, you sit up and wait for a few minutes. The pain dulls for a few moments and so does the headache, so you shakily stand, reaching for the wall in case your knees give out. Walking to the kitchen is a colossal effort, and a slow one at that too. The short walk down the hallway feels like a year.

Finally slumping against the counter, feet numb from the cold tiles, you take a glass from the dishrack and fill it halfway with water, spilling most of it on the counter in your hazy, aching state. Your vision is spotted with stars as you reach up on tiptoes and open the medicine cabinet to reach the painkillers.

You swallow two and move to make your way back to the bedroom. Turning, you're suddenly hit with the most awful, searing, intolerable pain. You jackknife to the floor, knees throbbing from the solid impact as they thud against the tiles. Leaning heavily on the cabinet, you rest your forehead against the cool, slightly chilled surface, and feel a liquid smearing onto the cupboard door. Pulling away slightly, you realise you're covered in a sheen of sweat. Your clothes stick uncomfortably to your body. It's too hot, too cold, too much pain, too sharp, too dull, never-ending but even worse than before.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, every heave sapping your energy. Sagging forward, you rest your face against the cool tiles, trying to stay conscious. Your surroundings blur out, replaced with an unpleasant echoing ring and the sound of Chan's footsteps.

Chan's footsteps?

He's holding his drained waterbottle in one hand and his phone in the other, eyebrows furrowing as he reads some lyric notes he typed earlier. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he turns into the kitchen and is immediately met with the sight of you slumped on the floor, coated in sweat and curled up like a dying insect in the summer.

His eyes widen and he drops to his knees, phone clattering to the side and waterbottle clanging loudly. The sound makes you wince.

"Love? Hey-" his warm, calloused hands run over your shoulders, panicked and wide-eyed. "What happened?"

You can't even respond.

Chan swears a few colorful, fluent phrases as he stands and dashes down the hallway, returning with a damp rag. He gently but hurriedly mops the sweat off your forehead and nape before tossing it aside and carefully lifting you into his firm, toned arms. Deadlifting you from the floor, he carries you back to the bedroom and sets you down gently, pulling the rumpled covers back. He rushes out of the room for what feels like hours but is probably only a few minutes. Hurrying into the bedroom, he sets a few things down on the bedside before gently freeing you from your sweaty clothes.

In another scenario, you would be embarrassed, but right now you can't care less. It feels freeing and the cold air in the apartment seeps into your body, providing a welcome coolness. He lifts a hot water bottle and places it onto your lower stomach, tucking it slightly into the waistband of your underwear to keep it in place. He presses down lightly and you groan weakly, the heat providing almost immediate relief from the aching.

You don't register what happens after that; only the feeling of the damp cloth sweeping over your forehead and neck and Chan's warm, gentle touch keep you connected to consciousness. He begins to sing softly, lulling you into the heavy, dreamless sleep of the sick. HIs voice floats in the air like a wisp, light and airy and lilting, yet deep, accented, and rich. You gather all your remaining strength.

"Channie," you croak.

He looks up, brows knitted together in worry. He stops his ministrations, hand hovering over your shoulder.

Tears well in your eyes. Whether it's from the jumbled mess that the morning has been, the maelstrom of hormones, emotions and guilt in your system, the debilitating pain, or Chan's seemingly endless love, you're not entirely sure. Your voice is an almost inaudible whisper.

"I'm sorry i disturbed you. I went to take painkillers so i wouldn't disturb you because i know you're busy with the comeback-"

He cuts you off, expression gentle yet concerned. "I know i was busy, but you should have called me, love. Look at the state of you."

A hot tear spills down your cheek. "I'm sorry, Channie."

He shushes you, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "Don't apologise, yeah? If you need me, i'll come to you. Please don't ever feel that you're a bother to me or that you're disturbing me. Especially when it comes to things like this," he rubs your hipbone softly with his thumb, in soothing, relieving circles.

"Channie, can you cuddle me?"

He smiles softly. Pressing himself to your back, he bends his knees, spooning and tucking you into his chest. A surge of intoxicating warmth seeps pleasantly into your body and you sigh contentedly. His toned arm snakes around your waist, pressing the hot water bottle to your stomach so you don't have to hold it there yourself. Kissing your neck softly, he nuzzles into your shoulder, telling you to sleep and that he would be there when you wake up. It feels so warm, so cosy, so safe. But the guilt of having tore him away from his work doesn't slip your hazy, fatigued mind.

"Channie, i'm sorry for being a bother."

He exhales a small, sincere chuckle through his nose, tucking his head further into your shoulder.

"You're never a bother to me, love."

a/n: how'd i do? do we like it? likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated <3

[goodfish-bowl]

Hounds on Your Tail

Danny Phantom x Percy Jackson

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 3 - Bleeding out in an Alley Way

Warnings: Minor Gore, descriptions of blood, serious injury, blood loss

Notes: God I wrote this whole thing in less than 2 days. Speedrun time, I guess. Apologies for any errors as a result. It wanted to be longer than intended.

Word Count: 4,505

AO3 Link

Whoever the monsters were chasing after, they were after them with a single-minded focus to be envious of. Not even the demigods on their tails were enough to distract them. It was a group of half a dozen hellhounds, and three harpies, all dead set on chasing the same thing. And whoever they were chasing, was giving them one hell of a chase. 

Percy had only noticed the commotion because he was in the city visiting his mom, and had quickly decided to call for backup as fast as he could. Ms. O’Leary had managed to drag over both Nico and Will, both fully equipped. Annabeth had been tagging along on his visit. She was currently trying to figure out where the monsters and who they were chasing were headed. After the fifth double-back, it was clear that the person running was just trying to shake off the monsters, and possibly the group of demigods too. Percy was trying to at least spot who the monsters were chasing but had yet to catch sight of anything other than a beaten, red sneaker around a corner. 

Will had managed to get a lucky shot in, killing a harpy with one of his arrows, and both Percy and Nico had each gotten a hellhound. Sometime between when the group of demigods had first spotted the monsters and now, a hellhound and a harpy had both vanished. Percy wondered if whoever they were chasing had managed to kill both monsters or if they merely had broken off from the rest of the group. But Percy was getting just a bit tired of playing chase throughout all of New York City, he had no doubt that the monsters’ target was beginning to flag too. 

The remaining four monsters quickly darted around the latest alley detour their unfortunate prey had bolted into. Percy skidded to a halt, suddenly having three hellhounds cornered in a dead-end alley, pinned against a brick wall. The harpy angrily screeched and flew over the wall to continue the chase. Between the four of them, the hell hounds didn’t stand a chance, quickly becoming piles of yellow dust. From the other side of the wall, the harpy screeched again, followed by cries of pain and fighting. 

“Shit! How did they get to the other side of the wall?” Percy cursed, before turning to Annabeth. 

Percy didn’t have to say a thing, only crouch down. Annabeth came at him in a dead sprint. It was timed perfectly, as she stepped up onto his clasped hands and he flung her to the top of the wall, pulling herself up the rest of the way. Nico took hold of Will and vanished into the shadows of the alley. 

Percy was left alone on the opposite side of the alley. Luckily for him, there was a pipe clinging to the bricks of one of the buildings. It had just enough foothold for him to quickly climb up it and perch on top of the brick wall. Below, Will was hunched over a small figure leaning against the bricks, with Annabeth standing to the side, and Nico farther back. Percy jumped down. 

Percy winced, finally getting a glimpse at the person the monsters had been chasing for the past hour, possibly longer before he and Annabeth had noticed. It was a teenage boy with a mess and thick, black hair on his head. Blood seeped heavily from his stomach, and Percy recognized the slash of harpy claws. Will was trying to get the teen to stop clutching his stomach so he could at least check the wound. The boy’s jeans looked like they had been torn up even more from the hellhounds, with two large bite marks visible on his legs. There was blood smeared on the bricks he was leaning against, suggesting another wound on his back. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” The teen pleaded. 

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make that harpy didn’t gut you!” Will argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” Nico added. 

Percy frowned, not liking the situation one bit. He turned to Annabeth, who was glancing between their mystery teen-likely-demigod, and the top of the wall. 

“What is it, Wise Girl?”

“I’m trying to figure out how he managed to get over that wall before the harpy could fly over.”

“There was a pipe I used to get over. He could’ve done that,” Percy offered. 

“Not with two chunks taken out of his legs. I’m surprised he even managed to run after taking damage like that,” Annabeth refuted.

Percy winced, “Yeah, he certainly looks like he’s had a pack of hellhounds on his tail for over an hour.”

“Percy!” Will called out, and he snapped to attention. 

Will had gathered the bleeding boy into his arms, finally revealing a mix of wounds across his back from both claws and talons. 

“Nico and I are taking him back to camp! The slash on his stomach is too deep, I need to treat him there,” Will rushed. 

“Got it,” Percy nodded. “Annabeth and I will meet you back at camp.”

“No,” the teen protested, but was unable to fight back, seeming to be getting weaker by the second. Will’s clothes were slowly being soaked with blood. 

“Hurry,” Nico said. 

Will nodded and the three vanished into the shadows. 

“Percy,” Annabeth called out, walking over and crouching down where the teen had been leaning against the wall. “Is it just me, or is there something off about his blood?”

Percy crouched down to get a closer look, and sure enough, there were the smallest flecks of green of all things in the blood. He didn’t like that one bit. Those monsters had to be after that teen for some reason or another, but Percy had never heard of a demigod with green flecks in their blood either. Whatever it was, the monsters really wanted him dead. 

“We should hurry back to camp,” Percy decided. 

“Yeah.”

And the two took off. 

Danny officially banned himself from the big cities, especially places as crowded as New York City. With Jazz off at college and his leash pulled tight around his parents, there was no way he was getting out of not going to their latest ghost-hunter convention. No excuses had worked, and he had tried everything from faking illness to group projects. Danny had been forcibly dragged from Illinois to NYC in the GAV. Sam and Tucker were keeping a close eye on the portal for him at the very least, and he was sure he could fly back within the day if they got overwhelmed. 

Turns out, his parents had misinterpreted ‘ghostbuster’ for ‘ghost hunter’, and ended up dragging him to a comic con instead. That was cool, and his parents were thought to be cosplayers for all of 10 minutes before security refused to let them through due to their weapons. His parents still had a presentation to do, even if people just thought they were method acting, so Danny got sent back with an armload full of weapons to dump back in the GAV. Unfortunately for him, one went off, thoroughly shorting out his powers. Danny wasn’t going to let that bother him though. He had intended to go back inside and enjoy the con, avoiding his parents the entire while, He didn’t need powers for that. 

But then the first dog monster appeared. 

Danny had thought it was a ghost at first, and with his powers shorted out, he couldn’t necessarily rely on his ghost sense. With no powers and a very aggressive possibly-a-ghost dog on his heels, Danny took off running. Before he knew it, there was a whole pack of them, literally nipping at his heels, and doing their best to tear him to shreds. The bird ladies, (harpies if he remembered correctly), joined in not long after, adding in a much harder ‘dodging’ section to the chase. He thought it was weird no one was freaking out about the dogs of the harpies, but maybe New York was just like that?

Danny knew there were people on his heels too, but he didn’t have time to stop and see if they were also hostile or not. Glancing back had earned him harpy claws to the back. Even worse, the more he bled, the more excited his pursuers seemed to get, trying even harder to tear him to shreds. The pot shots he had managed to take at the dogs and harpies were only towards the end, when the steady hum of his powers, as unreliable as they were, started to return. More of them vanished as the chase went on, and Danny was just going to assume he lost them. He had managed to hit one of each, barely catching them collapse into a yellow powder before accidentally cornering himself in an alley. 

Danny had run into the bricks first, before finally able to slip through them with intangibility. He only had a moment to breathe before the harpy flew over the wall and tackled Danny to the ground, sinking its talons into his gut. He screamed and fired off another desperate ectoblast that missed by a wide margin. 

Danny got to meet his second group of pursuers as two people emerged from the shadows in the alley. One had immediately turned into nothing more than a black blur to Danny’s eyes, forcing the harpy off of him. He had tried to stand up to face the new possible threat, but blood loss forced Danny against the brick wall behind him, sliding down it and likely tearing open the wounds on his back even further. His vision blurred, and Danny was only able to make out golden blonde hair and a bright orange t-shirt approaching him. 

Danny cried out, clutching his stomach while trying to force himself back to his feet. The blonde forced themself between Danny and the view of the fight behind him. There was an impact to his left, and Danny was able to make out another person-shaped blur, also blonde with an orange shirt, who took off to help with the fight. 

“Hey!” The one in front of him tried to get his attention, but he could barely make out the rest of what they said. His head was feeling uncomfortably light. 

Danny struggled for a moment and got his vision to barely focus, but he was able to make out that the person in front of him was a guy and seemed really concerned. 

“Hey, I need you to let me see your wound. I’m a medic, I can help,” the guy demanded. 

Danny immediately recoiled. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” Danny didn’t want anyone here if there were more possibly-ghosts on his tail. He couldn’t use his powers around other people!

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make sure that that harpy didn’t gut you!” The medic argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” a second voice butted in. He sounded like he was underwater. 

The blonde guy said something else, but Danny couldn’t tell what. There was suddenly a hand on his wrist and he attempted to struggle, but the stranger had a vice grip. He forced Danny’s arm away from his stomach, then said something else. It… probably… hopefully looked a lot worse than it really was. Danny had taken hard hits before and still got up. He had to get away. 

Danny felt the hands on him re-adjust and tried to struggle again, but he felt so heavy. He grit his teeth and thrashed as best as he could, but his limbs barely responded. He could feel how absolutely soaked his clothing was though. He was being picked up and the entire world tilted around him. The second person approached, nothing more than a dark blob in Danny’s vision. 

His jumbled senses refused to give him anything else before darkness crept in in more ways than one, and Danny passed out. 

Danny woke up to acute, stinging pain, taking in a sharp breath that caused him to choke. His vision swam in white while he practically hacked out a lung. In less than a second, there was a supportive hand on his back practically propping him up, before slowly lowering him once again. Danny blinked the light out of his eyes, trying to see where he had ended up this time. 

Well, good news, it wasn’t a government facility. Bad news, Danny appeared to be in an infirmary of some kind. The wood interior betrayed it as some sort of cabin, despite its purpose. Danny winced at the familiar sensation of pulling on healing wounds. 

“Sorry, but you might not want to move too much just yet,” a voice apologized. 

Danny snapped to the person standing over him. An older teen with golden blond hair, tanned skin, and light blue eyes. He was definitely familiar, and Danny wondered if this was the same guy from the alley. 

“I just finished with your stitches not that long ago, but now that you’re awake, we can get some ambrosia into you to finish healing the rest of your injuries,” the guy continued. “But you should probably still take it easy for a while.”

Danny just blinked, openly staring at the guy giving him medical advice. He had no idea what ambrosia was. Also stitches, while normally a good thing, was a bad thing for Danny. He was going to end up healing, or burning through them. He prodded just the slightest bit at his core… and good, his powers were back. Which now left his other issue. His caretaker had left his side to go retrieve something from one of the cabinets. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the medical care, but who are you? And also where am I?” Danny asked. 

The older teen blinked, turning back to Danny. “Oh right! Sorry, guess we forgot introductions due to the circumstances. I’m Will Solace, head of the Apollo Cabin. You’re currently at Camp Half-Blood right now.”

Danny stared at Will, rotating the names in his head. ‘Half-blood’, huh? That certainly said something, but Danny didn’t know what. He wondered if it was a joke of some kind. 

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, just giving his first name. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. I’m sure the others are going to be eager to meet you. It’s not often that someone can outrun a group of hellhounds and harpies for that long!” Will praised. 

Danny mouthed the word ‘hellhounds’ in light confusion. Well, at least he got confirmation that other people knew about the dog monsters and bird ladies. He could also rule them out of being ghosts, since Danny had never encountered a ghost that turned into dust after being defeated. 

Will walked back over and placed a small, parchment paper-covered square in his hand. Danny opened it, revealing something that looked like a small lemon square. He sniffed it, getting a citrusy and spiced scent. Weird combination, but a snack was a snack.  

“I know I gave you a whole square but-” Will started, only to yelp as Danny popped the whole square in his mouth without hesitation. 

It tasted pretty close to how it smelt, but had an odd texture, like fudge instead of a lemon bar, but also uncomfortably chewy. It kind of reminded him of ectoplasm in the strong citrus flavor, but lemon instead of lime. The spices were really warm in his mouth like hot cinnamon, instead of the cool tingly flavor he kinda liked from ectoplasm. 

“You weren’t supposed to eat the whole thing!” Will exclaimed, and Danny swallowed. 

Will was on Danny in an instant, checking his temperature with the back of his head. Apparently, he didn’t like what he felt and stuck a thermometer into Danny’s mouth. The thermometer beeped after a moment, and Will snatched it, checking the numbers. His legs and back itched, but Danny couldn’t scratch at them due to his stomach injury, which also itched. 

“Well, you’re not going to burst into flames at least. You’re not even heating up, if anything you’re hypothermic,” Will announced.  

It took him a moment to realize why Will was freaking out, but Danny figured it out eventually. If the terrible lemon square was like ectoplasm, then it was very much not intended for normal consumption without consequences. Will’s words caught up to him then. 

“Wait? Flames?” Danny asked, bewildered. 

“Ambrosia, the food of the gods, can cause normal people to burst into flames. For people like us, eating too much can cause some pretty bad fevers and internal damage,” Will explained. 

That made sense if it was like ectoplasm. But- “What do you mean ‘people like us’?”

Will’s face scrunched up. “Well, um. I’ve only had to give this talk a few times. I’m not normally the one to do it but…” Will made eye contact with Danny. “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

The question seemed a bit left-field to Danny. “A decent amount, I think.” There were ghosts that resembled Greek myths, usually closer to Pandora’s place. 

“Well, it’s not as mythological as it may seem. Everything from monsters, as I’m sure you're familiar with by now, to the gods themselves is very real,” Will said like it was supposed to be some sort of big revelation. 

Danny processed the information. So the ‘hellhounds’, as Will called them, were Greek monsters, not ghosts. Didn’t like that. He liked that they had decided he was a chew toy even less. 

“Okay… and? That revelation didn’t answer the question.”

This time, it was Will’s turn to look gobsmacked for a moment before continuing. “Well, the gods didn’t go anywhere and still exist in modern times. And sometimes they come down and… interact with mortals,” Will added hesitantly. 

Danny remained silent. He still didn’t get where the blonde was going with this. He was very tempted to start picking at the stitches in his stomach. 

Will seemed to give up with whatever subtly he had been attempting. “Demigods. We’re demigods. You, me, most people at this camp.”

“Oh.”

Danny knit his brows together, crossing his arms and frowning, thinking it over. He wasn’t a demigod, that’s for sure. He wasn’t half-god, but half-ghost. Sure, Danny knew there were some pretty terrifying spirits in the Ghost Zone who could easily be mistaken for gods, so it was possible there was a mix-up with him here too. 

“After the monsters and the fact that you didn’t burst into flames after eating the ambrosia, yeah, that pretty much confirms you’re a demigod,” Will said. 

Danny did not want to be involved in whatever this mess was. He had enough problems in Amity Park. 

“Okay, cool. So, um. I’m a demigod, great. What am I supposed to do with that information?” Danny asked. He wanted to leave. His parents would notice eventually he had gone missing sooner or later. 

“Well, Camp Half-Blood exists as a sort of ‘safe spot’, and also a training ground. Monsters can’t get in here. It’s technically a summer camp, but we have campers who stay here both seasonally and year-round. It’s considered really dangerous to be all on your own. You’re probably the oldest new camper we’ve had in a while. Most tend to make their way here between 10 to 12 years old.”

“Do I have to come here?” 

Danny did not want to be forced to attend demigod camp. Being out of Amity Park for a week was terrible, but an entire summer? Yeah, no way. 

Will frowned. “Not… really, but-”

The door to the cabin opened, and another older teenager walked in. Tall, dark hair and sea green eyes. Danny didn’t recognize him at all.

“Hey, Will!” The new guy greeted, before noticing Danny stare at him. “Cool, you’re awake. Did Will give you the whole ‘congrats, you’re a demigod’ speech yet?”

“Percy,” Will practically whined. “I can’t believe you left that to me, but yeah, I did.” Will looked back at Danny. “Danny, this is Percy Jackson, he was part of the group who found you and brought you here. Percy, this is Danny,” Will introduced. 

Danny still didn’t recognize Percy, but he acknowledged that bleeding out on the ground wasn’t especially good for recall. 

“Thanks for the save. I like not being turned into bird food.”

Percy snorted a laugh and Will sighed. “No problem. I didn’t do much. The main people you have to thank is Will here and Nico, wherever he’s at.”

“Probably sleeping,” Will hummed in thought. 

“Probably,” Percy agreed. “By the way Danny, do you have any idea who your godly parent might be? A few of us like to make friendly bets when we get a new kid. I’ve got money on Hermes.”

Danny didn’t get a chance before Will butted back in. 

“Percy, he’s been up just long enough for me to get some ambrosia in him. I literally just explained the whole ‘demigod’ thing,” Will scolded. 

Percy gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. So, what’d the ambrosia taste like? I know it throws a lot of people off when they first try some,” Percy asked, directing the question towards Danny. 

“Like a lemon bar someone decided to melt an entire bag of red hots in,” Danny described. “So, bad.” 

Both Percy and Will blinked, before Percy snorted, “That’s a new one.”

“It’s not supposed to taste bad. It usually tastes like something you really like,” Will explained. 

“Darn, I guess,” Danny shrugged. “Anyways, I do have to leave.”

“Leave? You’re not sticking around?” Percy asked, surprised. 

Danny shook his head. “Nope. I’m only in New York for a convention with my parents. They’ll probably notice I’m missing sooner or later,” Danny answered truthfully. 

Percy seemed to think about something before asking, “Are you healed up enough to at least get a tour? I understand if you have to go, but it’d probably be a good idea to at least get your hands on a weapon just in case you get attacked again.”

That, Danny could agree to. He wiggled a bitin his bed a bit, noticing that the itching had finally subsided. His stomach was still a bit sore, but other than that, and the stitches that sorely needed to be removed, he was fine. 

“Sure,” Danny said, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side. 

Will seemed dumbfounded but wasn’t able to get the words out before Percy declared, “Neat. Then let’s go!”

And Danny managed to escape the infirmary. 

Percy decided he liked Danny. He was laid back and friendly enough, giving just as much snark as he got. From what he had heard, a lot of new campers tended to freak out for at least an hour, but Danny took it all in stride, more exasperated than shocked. It was a little odd, but Percy brushed it off as just part of Danny’s personality. It wasn’t a bad trait to have. 

Percy made sure to give a decent tour as they made their way to the weapons shed. He asked questions and answered some, learning that Danny was originally from a place called Amity Park in Illinois. His parents were here for the Comic Con, and Danny got dragged along. He said he had always been quick on his feet. Percy really hoped Danny would come back for the summer, even if he couldn't stay now. He told Danny all the demigod basics, from what ‘claiming’ was, how the camp was laid out, and even some of the activities they participated in when there were more people around. 

From the weapons shed, Danny ended up picking a bronze short sword and was given a sheath to go with it. He told Percy that he knew how to use it just a bit from a couple of martial arts classes. He told Danny to come back and he could personally teach him how to sword fight like a pro. 

But throughout the whole tour, Percy picked up on the nonchalance Danny seemed to have, more like he was a tourist instead of someone who had finally found a place to stay. He definitely wasn’t planning on coming back, but he might anyway. Percy knew personally very well that plans rarely went according to plan. They got plenty of attention while walking around, since news of Danny’s chase had already managed to spread throughout the camp. There were some jeers and encouragement from people who tried to recruit him for Capture the Flag. Percy claimed he already called dibs. Danny just laughed. 

They were somewhere near the pavilion when it happened. 

Percy had just managed to convince Danny to at least stick around for dinner. A bright symbol appeared over Danny’s head, causing everyone who had been gathering to pause. Percy recognized the symbol, but never over anyone’s head in a claiming. It wasn’t a symbol that should even be possible to appear.

The air in camp changed immediately, and Danny noticed just as fast. His stance changed from lax into defensive. He knew how to fight a lot better than he let on, or perhaps it was just instinct. Percy hoped it was instinct. 

“What’s that? What’s going on?” Danny practically demanded. 

“You’ve been claimed,” Percy stated, more in horror than awe. 

“Claimed? By who?” Danny was just as confused as everyone else seemed to be. 

But Danny didn’t understand, he didn’t know. It was impossible, it was catastrophic, even. Danny didn’t realize just how bad this was.

“Son of Cronos,” someone hissed. 

Danny finally seemed to get the memo then, his facial expression going from confusion, to shock, to realization, and then to irritation of all things.

“Ancients, of course he did,” Danny growled under his breath. 

Percy had to act fast, he had to- his hand slipped right through Danny’s wrist, who leaped back out of reach at the same time Percy moved.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” Danny said. “Thanks for the sword and the tour, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Percy called out, jumping towards Danny again. 

He vanished. No flash, no sound, just gone, leaving only footprints behind. 

Percy cursed under his breath in a thorough mix of both Greek and Latin. He took a glance towards the head table, where Mr. D and Chiron were both also staring. Chiron looked like he had just aged 40 years, and Mr. D looked about ready to break his sobriety with something much stronger than wine and deeply, deeply exhausted. 

Yeah, this was beyond bad. 

[the-oblivious-writer]

After the Storm |1|

Tara Carpenter x Spider-Women!Reader

Chapter One: Mutant Lizards & Kisses

(idk how many chapters I'll do for this series but I'm just winging it for now)

Summary: After your fight with The Lizard, you climb back with quite a few injuries. Luckily, Tara's there to tend to them

Warning(s): Swearing, Police!Sam 🤭, mentions of fighting & injuries

Notes: Based off of this scene in TASM (gotta be one of my favorite scenes). Wrote this while taking a break from writing chp 6 of LTLI. Motivation for this kinda just came to me and I've always wanted to do a spider!reader thing

Masterlist|Next Part

You limped, nearly collapsing on the roof as you held your side.Your trap for Dr. Connors did not work out how you planned, and your recklessness to get more photos than you needed ended you up with none.

You painfully crawled down, making your way to the fire escape outside the window you recognized. You knocked on it three times with your head, ignoring your pounding headache. You kept your head resting on the window as you heard clicking from the other side. Tara looked over to you and smiled before saying, “Come in,” then turning back to the assignment she was working on.

You push the window up, sliding through the opening as you exhale tiredly. 

“You should maybe, uh, consider coming in through the main entrance,” Tara jokes and you huff a laugh. 

You struggle to lift yourself until finally hopping into her room

“Also, my sister is under the impression that you require psychiatric attention….” Tara finally turns to you when she hears you grunt and her eyes slightly widen.

“Y/N.” She stood up from her chair and rushed over to you. You’re now leaning against the wall, when Tara comes up to you. 

“What the hell happened?” She asked quickly.

“You should see the other guy,” you say in a husky voice; you can still see Tara fretting over your injuries.

She carefully walks you to her bed, gently laying you down, not wanting to cause you any further pain. You tilt your head back as you continue to speak through deep breaths, “the other guy, in this instance being a giant mutant lizard.”

“You’re all bruised up–”

“Tara, I’m fi–”

“You’re not fine,” Tara interrupted in a sharp tone.

“Tara–”

You both stopped your movement when you heard Sam’s voice from the other side of the door.

“Hey, Tara, I have to run to the station. Do you want me to pick up some ice cream from that place you like, on the way back?” You and Tara shared a look before she got up and you rolled to the floor. 

Tara opened the door just a few inches to greet her older sister. “No, Sam. I do not want ice cream. I can’t afford any distractions right now. I have a bunch of exams to prepare for,” Tara said, trying to fake an aggravated tone.

“Okay, I just remember somebody saying last week that her fantasy was to live in an ice cream house,” Sam reminded Tara. 

“Well that's impractical,” she said, shutting the door. “And fattening,” she added after opening the door, now shutting it again.

She turned around to see you peeking from behind the bed, giving her a dopey smile. “An ice cream house?” You questioned, still wearing the same expression.

Tara rolled her eyes, nodding, still not saying a word before turning back around to open the door once again. 

“Sorry…” Tara apologized to Sam. 

“It’s really good ice cream.”

“It’s just I can’t, um, I'm doing this um—paper and I’m really focused on it. Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay, I get it. How about I bring you a some for later?” 

“Okay, sounds good. Thanks Sammy,” Tara said with a smile before shutting the door one more time.

As soon as she walked back in the room, she gave you no room to talk. Already giving you directions to follow as she got her medkit from her nightstand’s bottom drawer. 

“Roll down your suit.”

You sigh but comply. “I’m fine, just a little banged up. I almost got him though—Dr. Connors. I can feel it, Tar. I’m gonna get him next time.”

“I swear, Y/N, if you get yourself killed I will make sure you regret it,” the younger Carpenter threatened.

“Why? Gonna miss me?” You teased, looking at the other girl as her attention was on the rubbing alcohol she was preparing. 

“In your dreams, Y/L/N,” Tara replied, but you saw the tiny smile she gave you before looking back at what she was doing. 

“Ah…” You softly groaned, feeling the sting as the rubbing alcohol made contact with your open wound.

Tara gave you an apologetic look, “It’ll be done soon.” 

“And when that's done?”

“What do you mean?” Tara asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“After this, how about we do something?”

She lightly shook her head with a smile before replying. “And Sam comes home to an empty apartment? Yeah, no.”

“I’ll get you home in time before Sam is,” you reassure her. 

“You’re forgetting Sam’s a police captain,” Tara’s body betrays her as she melts into your touch, feeling your hand gently sneak up her arm.

“Unless she can track my web-shooters, I think we’re good.”

 “I don’t know…” she looks down, averting her attention to one of your other cuts she’s tending too.

You left hand lifts her head, her chin resting on your knuckles.

“Come on…” 

Your foreheads meet and the towel in her hand is long forgotten. You brush your thumb against her bottom lip, you both slightly lean in until your lips are only centimeters apart. 

“Easy bug girl…” You heard her whisper.

“What’d you just call me?” You asked as you both lightly laugh, faces never pulling from each other. 

“Let's get out of here,” you said as you comedically shook your head around, causing Tara to giggle. “Just for a minute, come on.”

Your noses rubbed together as Tara leaned into you. 

“No..”

“Yeah..”

“Noo..”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Noooo…” She hated how much she wanted to say yes to you.

“Yesss,” your smile never falters through this yes and no battle. You looked at how Tara looked away for a moment before looking back at you with a smile she was visibly fighting and in that moment you knew you won.

“...I better be home before Sam is.” 

—

When you land back on Tara’s fire escape, she’s clinging onto you for dear life while her face's buried in your chest. You smile down at her as you tell her, “We’re back by the way,” resisting the urge to place a kiss on her head.

“Yeah—yeah I knew that,” she replied, slowly pulling away from you.

You can’t help but chuckle at her shooken state. “Oh, you think this is funny? We were so high up—a drop that high is deadly, Y/N.”

“You think I’d drop ya?” 

“No, cause’ then Sam would bury you alive.”

“Speaking of Sam,” you’re both fully in the room now as you look at her bedroom door and then back at Tara, “Looks like she’s not here…”

“Y/N…”

“Tara…”

“I already let you swing me around while a billion feet in the air; you’re still needy for my attention?” She teased, slightly tilting her head.

“What, you don’t wanna hang out with me?” You teased back.

You’re now directly in front of her, Tara’s legs hit the back of the bed and you can feel her breath on yours. Your hands end up on her hips and her left hand lightly cups your jaw.

In a husky voice you begin, “Tara, you have no idea–" 

Suddenly the front door can be heard opening, the various locks twisting and turning. You and Tara looked at each other before Tara shoved you under the bed. Footsteps came closer and closer until Sam opened the door to find her sister sitting at her desk, headphones in, and pen in hand.

Tara turned to look at the door, pulling out her headphones when she made eye contact with Sam. “Oh, hey Sam. I was just finishing up this paper,” Tara said innocently, giving the paper a single tap with her pen.

Sam slightly nodded, looking around—Tara noticed this. “Did you need something?” Tara asked the older Carpenter.

“Uh, no—no, I just thought I heard something. Anyways,” Sam slightly shook her head, “got you that ice cream. It’s in the freezer when you want it.”

“Thanks, Sam. Love you,” Tara responded. “Love you too,” Sam said back with a smile before leaving the room but not without taking one more scan of the room.

You waited another minute before crawling out from under her bed. 

“That was a close one, bug girl.”

“Is that gonna be a permanent nickname?”

“You bet it is, bug girl."

You playfully rolled your eyes, a smile grazing your face when you see her dimples show. "You're lucky you're cute," you tell her.

"Oh? Would you rather me call you my savior?" Tara jokingly batted her eyelashes at you.

You bit lip in thought. "It's got a ring to it..."

"Yeah, no. 'Think I'm sticking with bug girl for now."

"Worth a shot," you shrugged before walking over to her,"Now...where were we?"

"You were leaving–"

"Mmm, no. That' not what I recall."

Before Tara could respond, you began placing kisses that travled to her jaw then neck, making her knees grow weak as you slowly lead her to the bed until her back softly hit the mattress.

You hovered above her while she gratefully accepted your touch, holding onto your biceps while you continued to kiss her.

"Y/N, my sister's right outside. And if you've forgotten; she has a warrant out for your 'wall crawling vigilante ass'—her words, not mine," Tara said, breath hitching as you continued to kiss her neck.

You stopped mid kiss, looking around the room then slightly frowned, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked back at her. "Is she here in the room with us...? Cause I don't see her."

"Y/N..."

"Tara..."

Tara let out a light sigh, raising one of her hands to cup your jaw. "Five. Minutes." She told you, holding your jaw with a gentle yet firm grip.

"Yes ma'am."

-----------

A/N: R because she didn't pack extra web fluid like Tara told her to:

[em-ontv]

One for the Other

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Gryffindor!reader

Summary: a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the golden snitch within James’s reach, but he had to let it go…

Warnings: brief mentions of injuries, some uses of offensive language?, uses of y/n.

Author’s note: sooo I searched it up bc I was confused on James’s position in Quidditch (chaser in books, seeker in movies), so for this piece I just wrote him as a seeker. There’s some foul play from the Slytherin players, I did not write it in means of bashing on how Slytherins are EVIL and WICKED, it’s just there for the plot :)). Anyways, enjoy, English is not my first language so there should be mistakes, apologies beforehand.

Word count: 834

———————————————————————————

The sun was shining high in the sky, a golden ray over the Quidditch pitch as players wearing red and green scattered among the pitch, zooming through the air as the Quaffle was thrown from place to place. The stands were filled with students and staff, cheering. The tension was palpable, the scores were so close.

You were a chaser on the team, flying high on your broom, trying to keep an eye on the Quaffle. Your movements were sharp and precise, ready to intercept any Slytherin chasers from making passes.

James whooshed through the air, catching a glimpse of the golden snitch that he, as the seeker, was supposed to catch. But it wasn’t long before the Slytherin seeker saw him and went out for the snitch too.

Your eyes followed James, and in the span of a few seconds being distracted, a Bludger had slammed into your side with a sickening THUD, knocking the wind out of you and sending you tumbling off of your broom.

The world seemed to turn black as you fell from such height, the crowd’s cheers had disappeared, and you felt a blinding pain radiating from your side. Your body was just about to meet the ground, but before you could hit it, you felt a pair of arms wrap you, cushioning your fall…

James had seen everything, he was inches away from catching the golden snitch, barely able to graze it with his fingertips. Victory for Gryffindor was within his grasp, but when he heard the impact of a Bludger, followed by the sight of your fall, he abandoned his chase without a second thought. He dove towards you, pushing his broom to its limits to reach you in time.

His arms had wrapped around you, guiding the both of you to a somewhat controlled crash onto the grass below. A quiet grunt leaving his lips as the sharp sound of a whistle rang throughout the pitch, the game came to a halt.

“Are you alright, y/n?” James tried shaking you, but you were unconscious. His face inches away from yours as he examined you for any injuries – of course there were injuries.

“Hey, y/n– y/n?” his eyes were wide with worry as he held you, a tense frown on his face.

Some of the staff had hurriedly made their way to the pitch, so did your teammates. The Gryffindor team gathered around both you and James, their faces filled with concern. Even the Slytherin players seemed taken aback, though one of their beaters looked more smug than worried.

“We’ll need to escort her to the Hospital wing, Mr Potter.” Professor McGonagall said, while a few teammates pulled a stubborn James aside as he refused to leave you.

And so you were ushered into the Hospital wing on a stretcher.

The rest of the match was canceled, leaving many of the Slytherin players to murmur in discontent.

A day or two later, when Madam Pomfrey finally let James in, he was carrying a few things; a chocolate frog in his hand, and a few bruises and a broken nose. He sniffled a few times at the discomfort of the bandage on his nose before making his way to your bedside, sitting down.

“Hey, y/n, brought you something,” he handed the chocolate frog to you, his eyes scanning over the bandages on your abdomen, a frown inevitably forming on his face.

“And you also brought wounds. What happened, James?” you asked, with your usual bits of sarcasm that brought a light laugh out of him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” he insisted, shaking his head, though he pursed his lips nervously when you shot him a glare. “Alright, alright, it’s not nothing, ‘kay? I got into a fight with Avery.”

“The Slytherin team’s beater?”

“No, the Slytherin team’s beater who gave you some bloody broken ribs.” he grumbled.

“Idiot, fighting with him won’t do anything,” you scolded, albeit gently because your ribs were too sore to allow you to start shouting at him or sit up on the bed.

“That twat deserved it,”

“And you also got hurt,”

“He got more hurt than I did!” James exasperated, his hand subconsciously rubbing his broken nose.

The two of you stayed silent for a few seconds before he spoke up again. “Guess what?” A grin made its way up his face, his fingers drumming on the Hospital wing bed.

“What?” you sighed, rubbing a hand down the side of your face.

“They’ve rescheduled a rematch for next month. So when you’re all healed up and good to go, we can beat them again.” he wiggled his eyebrows, earning him a smack on the chest from you. “Ow?” he groaned.

“You better not give up the snitch next time,” you scoffed, but a chuckle left your lips, unable to be held in. “Stupid.”

A look of mock-offense spread across his face at that, his lips parting into an ‘o’ in disbelief, but he was rendered speechless, watching you as you unboxed the chocolate frog and took a bite.

[bellaxgiornata]

Distracted

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Matt has meditated around you many times before, and every time you've always had the urge to sit in his lap and see how he'd react. So, this time you do.

Warnings/tags: sweet fluff, hurt/comfort

a/n: I've had this idea in my head for a short fic for a long time now because every time I see the scene of Matt meditating at the end of season 1, I just wonder how Matt would react to someone sitting in his lap and interrupting him. So I finally wrote this! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably

Carefully turning the page in your book, you tried to make as little noise as possible. Though to you, the soft crinkle of the paper between your fingertips sounded loud to your ears in comparison to the silence of the apartment. Sucking in a breath and holding it, your eyes darted up over the top of your book to where Matt was sitting on the rug just a few feet before you. Worried that you’d somehow disturbed him, you were grateful to see that he hadn’t even flinched at the noise. 

Gently expelling your breath, you found yourself yet again distracted by Matt’s form. Your eyes took in the sight of him once more, your book slowly lowering to your lap where you were curled up on the couch. He was dressed in just a pair of his black boxers, having returned home from his evening out as The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen about forty minutes prior. 

Upon arriving back home and descending the steps from the roof access, Matt had immediately begun stripping out of his black suit in the middle of the living room. Worrying over him when he’d let out a hiss of pain, you’d helped him push the coffee table off to the side of the living room as he'd done a few times before, claiming this spot was the best for him to focus in the apartment. He’d repeatedly assured you that he was alright, saying he only sustained a few ‘scratches’ while he was out–though to you they certainly resembled knife wounds. He promised a bit of time meditating would heal himself, telling you not to worry. And that’s exactly what he proceeded to do after he’d moved the coffee table, denying any medical attention from you beforehand.

This wasn’t the first time Matt had drawn his legs into himself and sat motionless in the living room in mediation in front of you. At first it took the pair of you some getting used to because your footsteps around the apartment had often made it difficult for him to drop into the right state of mind that he needed to achieve to heal his body. For the first few times you’d frustrated him with your constant noise, making it difficult for him to slip into that state. Though eventually he’d learned to tune out the sound of your body while you’d learned to find something quiet to do. Which usually meant that you tried to read a book nearby while really you spent most of the time staring at him half naked sitting on the floor instead, your mind switching back and forth between worrying about him and admiring the sight of him.

Which was what you were doing now. 

His back was perfectly straight, his hands resting on his knees with his palms upturned. Occasionally you noticed his fingers twitching faintly while you watched him. His face at first glance often looked peaceful and relaxed, but you’d come to learn that if you studied him long enough, you could spot the soft ticks that pulled the corner of his lips into a frown. Or you saw his eyebrows knitting together in repetition, as if he was in deep thought. Sometimes you’d see him wince like he was in pain, always leaving you wondering what he was experiencing. Even his shoulders sometimes tensed, drawing up towards his neck as if the weight of the city was finally taking its toll on him.

Eyes settling along his chest, you watched the slight expanse of it as he quietly inhaled in, holding the breath for a few seconds before you saw his muscles contract with the release of it. He looked deep in concentration now as he continued to rhythmically breathe in and out, seeming barely present in the apartment as he sat there. Which, considering he’d been meditating for a half an hour now, made perfect sense to you. He’d told you once before that his senses sort of dulled just a bit when he turned in on himself like this. And that was probably why you staring at him right now hadn’t remotely interrupted him, because you were certain any other time he’d have been very aware of it.

As your eyes lingered along his clearly defined abdominal muscles that were smeared with a bit of his own blood, you’d noticed he’d stopped bleeding a while ago. The blood on him now mostly appeared dry. His wounds looked a lot more like the scratches he’d dubbed them to be earlier–something that never ceased to amaze you. But as you continued to stare at Matt so still and quiet before you, you couldn’t help but be struck by the same urge you’d been hit by a hundred times before. 

Countless times when Matt came back from patrolling the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, settling on the floor in just his dark boxers as he meditated, you’d been struck by the same desire. Often you wanted to just toss your book to the side, rise up to your feet, and settle down in his lap. Partly because you wanted to see how the hell he’d react to you doing that, but partly because it was a genuine struggle to refrain from being near him. Whether it was because you wanted to comfort him or to just make sure that he was alright for yourself, you weren’t entirely sure. But you always felt compelled to just plop right down in that inviting space his legs always made when he crossed them together like they were now.

Bottom lip rolling back between your teeth, you were overcome with that internal confliction once more. Truthfully, you knew you probably shouldn’t interrupt him, which was why you never had all those times he’d done this before. Because he was doing this to heal himself after a night out fighting and being a legitimate hero–even if he blushed and denied it whenever you called him one. But at the same time, you knew he was near the end of his meditation. He never went on meditating for much longer than a half an hour, not for something he’d deem ‘so minor’ as the injuries he’d returned home with tonight. So, really, would you be interrupting him that much? 

Fingers drumming lightly along the cover of the book you’d long since forgotten, you gnawed your lip as you continued to stare at Matt sitting on the floor. Eyes snapping shut, you straightened on the couch, abruptly tossing your book onto the cushion beside you with a soft thump . You figured just this one time you’d see what happened if you did. Either Matt would come out of that state pissed and annoyed with you for bothering him, or maybe he wouldn’t. But either way, you could finally stop wondering what the hell would happen if you just did it.

Uncurling your legs on the couch, you lowered your bare feet to the floor one at a time. Attention fixed on Matt, you were honestly surprised he hadn’t even responded to you slowly sliding off the couch, because even you were aware of the groan from the leather as you moved. When his chest continued to rise and fall evenly, his fingers twitching lightly on his left hand, you took two steps until you were standing directly in front of him. The corner of his lip moved so minutely you almost didn’t catch it, but other than that, he still hadn’t reacted to your presence.

Now or never , you told yourself.

Carefully you turned sideways, trying not to accidentally bump his knee as you did. Then you began to gradually lower yourself down onto his lap, holding your breath and biting the inside of your cheek nervously. When you were halfway down, your hands darted forward and grabbed onto Matt’s broad shoulders to steady yourself just before your ass landed in his lap. 

Face mere inches from Matt’s now, you saw the way his eyes fluttered behind his closed eyelids before they abruptly flew open, his hazel eyes searching the space before himself as his brows knitted together in confusion. Seconds later he was focusing on you, his gaze landing around your nose. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Shooting Matt a sheepish smile, you shrugged as you continued to hold onto his shoulders. “Honestly?” you answered. “I’m not sure. But I felt compelled to sit here.”

“On my lap?” he asked, brows raising up onto his forehead as his head tilted to the side. “While I was meditating?”

“Yes,” you replied. “I’ve been eyeing it for a while now.”

Matt’s head canted further to the side, his eyes pinching tight as he gazed back at you in disbelief. “You’ve been…eyeing my lap for a while now?” 

“Every single time you meditate, actually,” you told him. “I always sit over there,” you explained, gesturing your head back towards the couch, “unable to focus on my book because you’re always sitting here. Half naked.”

“And bleeding,” Matt pointed out.

“Right, well, you stopped doing that a bit ago it seems,” you countered.

The corner of Matt’s lips curled upwards into a grin and you relaxed in his lap, your hands releasing his shoulders as your arms wound around his neck. So he wasn’t going to yell at you apparently. That was good.

“Oh, so if I stop bleeding then it’s okay to interrupt my meditating?” he questioned, amusement in his tone.

"You seemed about done," you replied. "And I couldn't resist the temptation any longer."

"Mmm, temptation was it?" he asked, still grinning. 

His hands landed on your hips, carefully turning you in his lap until you were facing him fully, your legs now on either side of his hips. His grin had spread wider across his mouth as he focused on you, his hands sliding around to your lower back before he clasped them together, keeping you in place.

"So, do you usually just stare at me when I'm doing this?" Matt asked curiously. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"Pretty much," you admitted. "But I mean, you're usually barely wearing any clothes, Matt."

"I'm also usually bleeding," he reiterated. 

"Yes," you agreed, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his. "Which always has me worrying if you'll be okay. I still don't understand how this works."

Matt's eyes closed as he nuzzled his nose against yours, your body further relaxing into his. His bare skin was warm against the front of you, the comforting heat of him enveloping you as you hugged him tighter. 

"Doesn't matter how it works," he whispered. "Just that it does. And that I'm just fine, sweetheart. Like I told you I'd be."

Shifting in his hold, you tilted your head up and gently pressed your lips to his forehead. Matt's arms squeezed around you just a bit tighter in response as your mouth lingered against his skin, just beside a mostly healed cut.

"I'm glad this was the response you had to me interrupting you," you whispered, leaning back to look at his face. 

Matt looked vastly more at peace now with his eyes closed than he did while he'd been meditating only minutes ago. For a moment you wondered why that was and if it could have anything to do with you. Your heart fluttered in your chest at the notion. 

"What'd you think would happen?" he whispered back.

You shrugged, your arms unwinding from around his neck. Gradually your hands slid up the length of his bare, broad shoulders, rising up both sides of his neck until you were cradling his bruised face between your palms. Gently your thumb stroked his skin, just beneath a dark bruise on his right cheekbone.

"Wasn't sure if you'd yell," you answered softly. "Be mad at me for interrupting you."

His eyes slowly opened again, his gaze focusing around your cheek now. He sent you a sweet smile, one that accentuated the single dimple in his cheek that you loved so much. 

"Sweetheart, I would never do that," he assured you. "Though I'd prefer if you want to cuddle in the future that you wait until I'm done. It’s just…less jarring."

"Duly noted," you murmured, resting your forehead back against his. "Sorry for bothering you. Was just…curious."

Matt chuckled, the warm sound filling the apartment and drawing a smile onto your lips. You shook with the movement from your place in his lap as his hands unclasped themselves, spreading wide over your back as he tugged you in even closer to the front of himself. 

"You always are," he teased. “But maybe I should get up. I’m probably getting blood all over your clothes.”

Hands sliding from his cheeks and back into his hair, your forehead still pressed to his, you lightly shook your head. As your fingers began gently carding through his dark strands, you heard Matt let out a contented sigh that only encouraged your fingers. Eventually your own eyelids dropped closed, relief at Matt yet again coming home to you safe tonight flooding your body.

“Can we just sit here for a bit longer?” you whispered. “I just want to be with you.”

“Of course,” he murmured. “I’m happy to stay here with you as long as you want.”

Biting back the smile on your face, you shifted in his hold yet again. This time you buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his sweat and the material of the black shirt he'd worn out tonight. Matt leaned forward, pressing his own face into the bit of bare skin along your shoulder that was peeking out from beneath your shirt. His lips lightly brushed your skin in a gentle kiss, the sensation drawing forth a tingling warmth within you. 

Releasing a soft sigh, you felt a sense of ease overtake you. You could sit like this all night with him if he’d let you, just content that he was home safe.

[scarlethexelove]

Hi it‘s me again. I was just thinking something like your kate fic where reader is with wandanat or agatha and goes through some tough times maybe with depression, anxiety or self harm and they help reader through it? your kate fic really helped me because I‘m going through those things right now and it gives me so much comfort🖤 ty for your amazing writing truly!!

We're Here

Image found on pinterest

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 1482

Warnings: Depression, ⚠️Self Harm⚠️, Blood, Fluff, Anxiety, Soft Wanda, Soft Nat

A/n: I had started writing a whole different fic and didn't like it for this so I changed it up and wrote this one instead. I hope you like it. I was trying not to cry while writing it.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

Your chest hurts as your mind races with swirling thoughts. You aren’t good enough for them. They deserve so much better than you. No one should have to look after you; they don’t deserve that burden. You, you are the burden in their life. You deserve to be alone, to suffer alone. Not for them to take care of you. 

You can’t take the thoughts anymore. That pain that burns deep in your chest making it hard to breathe. You somehow find the energy to get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You search looking for the one thing you know will help. It’s the only way to make the pain stop. You sigh when you find it. The small shiny piece of sharp metal. An escape. 

You sit on the floor holding the razor in your hand. You hesitate for a moment looking at it in your hand. They will be so disappointed in you if you do it or they will finally realize just how messed up you are and finally leave you. Your mind battles against itself as you stare at the one thing you know can help. But those dark thoughts win out. You know it will be better if you push them away. Making them hate you for just how broken and messed up you are. 

With a deep breath the cold metal drags across your skin digging in deep. The thin line turns white before crimson seeps through. Small little bubbles of blood form on the line before they become so big it starts to drip down your arm. The pain from your chest slowly starts to dissipate as you feel the pain from the blade. So you do it again. Another line draws across your skin. You watch the blood dripping down your arm. 

The more you cut the more you feel free. It becomes easier to breathe and the pain in your chest is gone. You focus on the pain that makes it all feel better, the blood dripping down calming those thoughts in your mind as it distracts everything. 

You’re so distracted by the blood and the shift in your pain that you didn’t hear the door to your bedroom open, but a loud gasp pulls you from your thoughts. Your eyes shift up seeing Wanda her hand slapped over her mouth as she looks down upon you. Tears filling her eyes which only make tears fill yours. Natasha steps in view behind Wanda as she hears her gasp. She holds her breath when her eyes land on you. The tears that shine in your eyes are now escaping, cascading down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god detka!” Nat pulls from her shock and jumps into action. She moves past a still very shocked Wanda grabbing a hand towel and crouching down in front of you. She presses the towel to your arm and presses down hard. You can’t help the hiss you let out as the towel makes contact with your torn skin. “I’m sorry.” You sob. 

Wanda finally comes back to reality as she quickly moves to sit down beside you. She pulls the rest of your body into hers as Nat keeps holding the towel to your arm trying to get the bleeding to stop. You sob into Wanda’s chest as you continue to repeat I’m sorry over and over again. Wanda just shushed you and kissed your head as she held you close. “You’re ok sweetheart. We got you.” She continues to hold and whisper reassuring words in your ear. 

It takes a few minutes before you calm down, but as you do it starts to sink in on what you have done. “You don’t deserve this. I’m not worth it.” You whisper as you slightly pull back from Wanda. She shakes her head. “Moya lyubov' we love you more than anything and we just want to be here for you.” You just look down not wanting to meet her gaze feeling embarrassed. “Detka, do you want to tell us why?” Nat speaks up. You sigh. “It hurt. I just wanted it to stop.” Your voice is low. “What hurt sweetheart?” Wanda asks, wanting you to clarify. “Ev-Everything. My chest hurt and it was so hard to breathe. I just wanted it to stop.” You anxiously chew on your lip waiting for the women to respond. 

The room is silent as the women mull over your words. “Why didn’t you call us?” Wanda asks you. You look down not knowing how to answer her. She gently lifts your chin with her finger so that you are looking at her. She has a sad smile on her face and tears shining in her eyes. You pull your thoughts together because they deserve to know. “I didn’t want to bother you. You two deserve to be happy. To not have to worry about me. I’m broken.” 

“You’re not broken malyshka. You are so strong and we love you so much. All we want to do is help you.” Nat’s words are soft. You turn to look at her. She wears a soft expression as she looks at you. “We want to spend the rest of our lives with you Y/n. You mean the world to us. I will spend every day for the rest of my life telling you that you are loved and you are worthy of love if that is what it takes.” She continues her hand coming to cup your cheek. Wanda shifts in front of you so that you can look at both of them. “When you are down and feel like the world is caving in on you I will be there to protect you to keep those walls from caving in on you.” Wanda smiles at you. Their words bring a small smile to your face. 

Your mind was wrong. They do love you and maybe you do deserve their love. They have been here to catch you every time you fall. You know it won’t always be easy but they will always be there to reassure you. Your mind will play tricks on you but they will show you what's real. 

Nat pulls the towel from your arm and sees that the bleeding has mostly stopped. “Let’s get you cleaned up then we can have a movie day in our pajamas.” You nod and smile. Nat lifts you up onto the counter as Wanda goes into the bedroom. Nat grabs the first aid kit from under the bathroom sink and starts to clean up your arm. You grit your teeth as she does. “I’m sorry detka.” She apologizes for causing you any pain. “It’s not your fault Natty.” You tell her knowing that this is all of your own accord. 

Wanda wanders back in with a stack of pajamas for all of you to wear as Nat finishes up. She wraps a bandage around your arm then leans in pecking your lips making you giggle. Your giggle is music to their ears glad to see you feeling a bit better. Wanda proceeds to give you a peck too. They then help you get changed before changing themselves. You give Wanda grabby hands as you're still sitting on the counter. She chuckles, moving to pick you up. You wrap your legs tightly around her waist and bury your head in her neck. She carries you into the bedroom with Nat following behind. 

Wanda places you on the bed and crawls in next to you. Nat crawls in on the other side of you. They make sure to sandwich you in between them letting you know that they are there for you and they aren’t going anywhere. You cuddle in close to both of them as Nat puts on one of your favorite movies to watch. “Thank you both for everything.” They both smile at you. “We love you Y/n no need to thank us.” Nat tells you. “But I wanted to.” You nuzzle into her a little. “We will always be here for you.” Wanda adds. 

You all settle in the bed as the movie plays on the screen in front of you. Your eyes drooping in exhaustion. “It’s ok to sleep detka.” Wanda tells you her fingers gliding through your hair. “Mmm I love you.” You whisper as you finally let your eyes fully close. “We love you too.” Nat kisses your head as she holds onto you tightly. “Sweet dreams sweetheart.” Wanda murmurs against your head.

You know that you will have to have more conversations about what happened today but that will be for later. But right now all you need is their love and comfort. With that you know that you can make it through this. So you finally let yourself drift off to sleep. Feeling all the love that you never thought that you deserved. 

[seneon]

KISSING YOUR PAIN AWAY ──── mashle various.

featuring. mash burnedead, rayne ames, orter mádl.

notes. angst + comfort. gn! reader. hey guys, i wrote this while i was in my feels haha lol

𖥔 ݁ ˖ MASH BURNEDEAD

he's the absolute sweetest. will do whatever it takes to not let your salty tears flow from the corner of your eyes. mash brings you whatever is closest to him— a half eaten cream puff, a plastic toy dumbbell, one in a million of his cream puff plushies that you got for him when you're at the market. whatever it is, he will bring you things to just see you smile. he's so clueless, he doesn't know how else to comfort you. but he tries. he tries his hardest like it's his last mission.

"oh no, please don't cry," he said softly, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before he frantically looks around to grab something. anything will do. as long as it'll distract whatever calamity that storms around in your mind.

mash gives up with that, seeing that your tears have built up in such a large amount that it stars to carefully flow down your cheeks in such distress. that does not stop him from trying. his fingers found their way to quickly wipe away the flowing tears from your cheeks. he keeps doing it over and over; wiping your tears that kept flowing until his own fingers are stained with wet and salty tears.

finally, he holds your cheek, cupping it slightly even though your cheeks are wet. he looks at your eyes for a moment, scanning over the gloss of it before he finally pulls you into a hug. arms wrapped tightly around you, pushing you into his body so you could listen his heart as he silently lets you wail the rest of your remaining tears out.

𖥔 ݁ ˖ RAYNE AMES

post-crying has you all empty inside and out. your eyes down to the bottom of your jaw is all stained. the aftermath of letting it all out has allowed exhaustion to surface. but rayne is there with you. he's there with you throughout the entire process. he's all ears and all about listening to your stories and your rambles and your tears. rayne will not leave you unattended like this— shattered into pieces. he will always mend you back up with his kisses.

rayne presses his lips under your the corner of your eye where the first stream of tears flowed down. then he moves down, dragging his lips across your skin to place chaste and reassuring kisses onto your tear-stained cheeks. his thumb grazes over the dry tears that remains to dry, kissing on the trail that was left behind.

so gentle and careful, as if not to break your shattered pieces anymore. he's mending them carefully with the work of his lips kissing all over your face. and it works wonderfully, because the moment his lips pauses in front of your own lips, you looked into his eyes, your own eyes blurry from crying so much.

he then presses his lips on yours. a quick kiss that tells you so much which he couldn't utter out. it's all about the way he carries out every single action with so much love and care that you could feel your shattered soul is being glued back, pieces by pieces, with his love that seeped into your broken soul, filing up every brokenness. "it'll be okay. i'm right here."

𖥔 ݁ ˖ ORTER MÁDL

orter holds your hand while you speak your mind. it's not just simply holding your hands— he's seated on the ground beside your wooden chair, ranting your heart out as his fingers caresses your fingers. his gaze is focused on your hands, watching as your fingers would occasionally squeeze his own in frustration. orter is silent throughout this entire process, and when he thinks you're done pouring your agitated heart out, he glances up when you're all silent.

"need someone to lean on?" he asked as you nodded, biting your lower lips to surpress anything that might make a debut. orter stands up and pulls your head close to him, your head immediately leaning into his chest as you touched your fingers where orter's touch lingers around in comfort.

his fingers weaved their way into your hair, smoothing it out as he could feel your shaking under his embrace. orter cannot stay still. it wasn't long before he shifted his position, now kneeling on the ground, somewhat close to your height before he looks right at you, eyes burning into your tainted heart. you can feel his fingers wrapping them around yours, the absence disappearing only to fill with a warm sense of comfort with his warm hands.

then, a warm kiss placed on your knuckles, to remind you that you're never alone and that he'll always be there to hold your hands no matter what. "let it out, i won't ever let go of you."

TAGS ★ @kyoghurts @caelivir @dragonictears @anqelically @kazuhaiku

© SENEON 2024 ♱ do not repost, alter, or translate.

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[skribbyposts]

Zosan Brainrot. haha ahaha.

tysm to @11yogurts for finally motivating me to share my debilitating zosan hyperfixation online ily

My ABSOLUTE FAVORITE Sanji hc is that post-timeskip he has WAYY too many things that hes picked up from momoiro and the crew is absolutely fine w/it, but it drives Zoro BONKERSSSS because he has a big fat gay crush on Sanji.

Example 1 : Heels

Got this idea from a a fic i read about 2 years ago, can't remember the name for the LIFE OF ME or what it was about, but not it has me imagining a post-ts Sanji coming back from momoiro wearing oxfords with a 4-INCH HEEL, both for style and combat reasons. Zoro just assumes Sanji's grown taller (which he is kinda pissed about) and goes on about his life. I imagine the realization goes somewhat like this:

~~~~~~~

Zoro would pause to say something about how this is the second time this week they've gotten ambushed on the Sunny, but he's too busy slicing the barrel off another marine's shotgun. He renders another officer unconscious with the butt of his sword, then sheaths it after looking around to make sure no stragglers try to sneak up on him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Sanji finishing off the group attacking him in a whirlwind of fire and shouted expletives - and then he sees it.

When Sanji arcs back into a handstand, the ankles of his tailored slacks ride up to his calves and What is the fuck is on his feet.

The shoes look like regular oxfords, laced black leather with a brown bottom - and a large, square heel at the back. Oh, they're heels, Zoro belatedly realizes.

Zoro stares, his face flushed and mouth probably wide open, as he watches the cook's blocky loafers take out a man's nose. Zoro should absolutely not find that as attractive as it is.

Sanji pivots on one of his hands, bringing both his legs in towards his torso before shooting up and over the gaggle of marines still chasing after him. He twists through the air, and Zoro can see the cook's muscled thighs contracting through his dress pants as he brings those fucking shoes down on another officer's head. The heels get spattered with blood as he delivers a sweeping kick to the rest of the men still standing, sending them sprawling across the deck.

Zoro is still frozen as the cook rights himself and dusts off his suit, patting down his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. The clacking of his heels against Sunny's deck as he heads to the galley match the rapid pounding of blood in Zoro's ears, and Sanji finally, finally catches his gaze from where he's heading to the galley.

He looks- breathtaking, evidence of the fight everywhere on him. Hair mussed, shirt missing two buttons, his exposed chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he turns to face Zoro. his visible eye narrows and his mouth curls up into a smirk, taking in the dusting of red on Zoro's cheeks.

Before Zoro can say anything, Sanji's gaze shifts behind him and widens, and Zoro suddenly feels a sharp pain on the back of his head.

"OH, YOU FUCKER!" and Sanji's heels (the cook wears heels Zoro's going to fucking die) pattering over are the last things he hears before he blacks out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ahaha zoro being stupid and not paying attention to his surroundings because he's so distracted by Sanji in battle is CANON BECAUSE I SAY SO. i love them so much aksdjgfhadjkslhflkjsad

sorry for any spelling mistakes in this little ficlet but OHMYGOD i needed to get this out into the world and its currently 3am and i wrote this in like an hour. also First ever post???? yay me!!!!!! . also should i make more of these?? cause i definitely have more ideas. lmk (≧◡≦)

[lilacura]

Pages of sorrow | Kim Chaewon

pairing: Kim Chaewon x Reader

>wc: 1.4k

summary: Chaewon discovers Y/N's hidden feelings through a secret diary, realizing the depth of unspoken love only after Y/N's passing. The poignant tale unfolds with regret, heartache, and the profound impact of a love never shared.

Chaewon sat on her bed, crying softly as she held the worn leather diary in her hands. It had been a week since the funeral, a week since she lost her dear friend Y/N. While going through Y/N's things, this diary had fallen out from between the pages of an old book. Hesitantly, she opened the cover, hoping to find some answers as to why Y/N had seemed so sad in her last days. 

The first entry was from years ago, recounting a chance meeting between the two girls in their freshman year of high school. Chaewon remembered it well - she had been sitting alone at lunch when Y/N shyly asked if the seat across from her was taken. They quickly bonded over their love for music and dreams of becoming idols one day. As Chaewon read Y/N's description of falling in love with her smile and energetic personality, she felt her heart twist in her chest. If only she had known back then how Y/N felt.

Flipping through the pages, Chaewon was transported back through their high school years. She saw their friendship grow closer through Y/N's loving words, but also noticed the pain and heartache between the lines as Y/N lamented keeping her true feelings secret, convinced Chaewon only saw her as a friend. An entry from their graduation dance made Chaewon break down into sobs. Y/N had mustered the courage to ask Chaewon to dance, but the other girl had been distracted, oblivious to Y/N's intentions as she danced with several guy friends instead. 

College brought more hardship. Chaewon remembered Y/N growing distant their first year, busying herself with study groups and clubs in an attempt to move on. But the diary told a different story - of sleepless nights crying into her pillow, missing Chaewon's presence terribly in their shared dorm room. An especially painful entry was scrawled the night of Chaewon's first real date, the words smudged with tears. 

As Chaewon continued to read, she came across happier times when their friendship had repaired itself. Movie marathons, late night walks around campus, studying together in the library - memories she now saw through Y/N's loving gaze. Small, intimate moments Chaewon had been oblivious to at the time but now realized held deep meaning for the secret lover who watched her from the sidelines, content to just be by her side however she could. 

The final entry was dated only a week before Y/N's passing. She wrote of coming to terms with keeping her love private, finding peace in Chaewon's friendship even if it was all she could have. But one line stood out amongst the rest - "I think a part of me will always be in love with Chaewon, even when I'm gone." 

A few more entries chronicled Y/N growing distant in their final year of college, right around the time Chaewon began dating her girlfriend at the time. 

As Chaewon read Y/N's descriptions of seeing them together on campus, holding hands and sharing sweet kisses, her heart tightened. She had been so wrapped up in her new relationship that she never thought to tell Y/N, her supposed best friend, about any of it. 

Y/N wrote of feeling betrayed, like their friendship meant nothing anymore with this secret kept. Each passing day spent watching Chaewon from afar with someone else chipped away a little more at her soul. 

In bitter lines coated with tears, Y/N questioned why Chaewon never felt she could confide in her, why their bond didn't seem to matter when a new romance entered the picture. She withdrew into herself again, isolating in her dorm with only her diary as company, consumed by jealousy and the feeling of being replaced.

The entry ended with Y/N vowing to distance herself for good, to stop tormenting herself with a friendship that was no longer equal. Chaewon realized with horror that by keeping her relationship private, it was the final straw that sent Y/N spiraling into the depths of despair. Her oblivious actions had inadvertently pushed the girl she now knew she loved away during the darkest time. It was a mistake Chaewon would never forgive herself for.

As Chaewon turned to the second to last entry, her breath caught in her throat. Y/N wrote of feeling overwhelmed by her secret pain, the loneliness and heartache growing too much to bear after years of keeping it locked away. 

With a sob, Chaewon read the line "I can't continue living like this, always wishing for something I'll never have. I hope that in death, I'll finally find the peace I've never known." 

It was then that the reality hit Chaewon like a punch to the gut. Y/N's "passing", which she'd been told was due to illness, suddenly made sense in the brutal truth it concealed. Her friend had been suffering silently all this time, truly believing Chaewon would never love her back, and in a moment of despair had chosen to end her suffering the only way she saw possible.

The final lines echoed in Chaewon's mind, a last will and testament of Y/N's enduring affection: "I hope even after I'm gone, Chaewon will still continue to remember me, our friendship, and the love I could never confess. Please don't cry for me - I'll be watching over you, and loving you, from wherever I am." 

All this time Y/N had kept her pain locked inside, refusing to burden Chaewon with her unrequited feelings even as they consumed her. And now it was too late for Chaewon to tell Y/N she felt the same, that together maybe they could have found the will to live another day.

Chaewon snapped the diary shut, shaking with emotion. All this time, Y/N had loved her so fully yet thought her feelings were unrequited. And Chaewon realized with crushing guilt that she had felt the same, had she only known to look past her assumptions. Now it was too late to tell Y/N she loved her too, and that thought would haunt Chaewon for the rest of her days. Clutching the diary to her chest, she wept for the love they never had the courage to share.

A month had passed since Chaewon read Y/N's final words in her diary. For weeks she remained shut in her room, overcome with grief and guilt for what she realized too late. 

Today, she knew she could put it off no longer. Clasped in her shaking hands were a bouquet of Y/N's favorite flowers, lilies - delicate and beautiful, just like she was. 

Stepping up to the simple grave marker, Chaewon sank to her knees. Tracing her fingers over Y/N's name etched in the stone, the tears came fast and heavy once more. 

"I'm so sorry it took me this long," Chaewon choked out amongst her sobs. "I thought if I didn't come, maybe it wouldn't be real. But you're gone and it's all my fault."

With great care, she arranged the lilies atop the fresh dirt. As the petals swayed in the breeze, Chaewon was again transported to memories of Y/N's smile, her laugh, her kindness. The girl who loved her without condition, even unto death. 

"We were too close to the stars, my love. I was blind not to see what was right in front of me." Chaewon clutched at her chest, heart aching. "I hope that wherever you are, you'll forgive me. And know that I love you, Y/N - I always have, and always will, for the rest of my days." 

Bowing her head, Chaewon let the tears flow freely as she paid tribute to the love they never had but only now, too late, did she understand.

[zombholic]

hii me again (the one that just texted about forgotten ask) but it was about abby (i had a doctor!abby in mind but it’s up to you) couple of days ago it was basically about hurt/comfort, angst type of thing where you know they fight, scream and cry and then kiss and make up, and talk and whole lot of fluff, and apologize<3 but you can write it as you see fit (obviously, it’s your work) but it was just an idea, cause i’m a sucker for this type of fics😭(i basically just wrote the whole plot here cause i didn’t want you to look for it)

JEALOUS GIRL — abby anderson

summary — basically what anon said ^

description — poc!fem reader with bpd, doctor!abby, angsty, very angry reader.

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

You and Abby had went to her best friend’s birthday get together, Leah. You quite honestly couldn’t stand that stuck up piece of shit, she has no problem flirting with your girlfriend in front of you like you’re not there. Abby is one of those girls where you have to tell her you have feelings for her or else she thinks you’re just being friendly, how else did you guys start dating to begin with.

Your girlfriend was sat on the couch next to Leah, who was too close for comfort. Nora had pulled you aside to have a drink with you, she was your favorite honestly, the complete opposite of Leah yet somehow all of them get along her.

“You said you were going to college soon right?” Nora was trying to make conversation with you but your glare never left the couch, you try to stay calm and collected around Abby’s friends since they were much older but seeing her grab onto your girlfriends arm like that made you want to violently grab her head and smash it into your knee.

“Y/n?” Nora waved her hand in front of your out of touch face, blinking your eyes a couple of times you looked over at her “Sorry, I get distracted easily. Yeah I’m going to start my career in becoming a veterinarian.” You gave her an apologetic smile.

The rest of the night stayed like that, Leah basically begging for Abby to fuck her right in front of you. Your blood was boiling to the point your body started heating up, if anyone touched you they would get third degree burns. When it was finally time to leave you swore all love for Abby was pushed deep inside leaving you filled with anger.

“Lemme get the door fo—“ “I can open the door for my fucking self.” You shoved her hand away from the handle of her car, getting inside and slamming it so hard it almost shook the whole car. Abby looked at you with the most confused expression plastered across her face “What’s wrong with you?” She started her engine before going back to look at you “Don’t fucking talk to me right now.” Your arms were crossed over your chest, your nails digging deep into your boiling flesh.

The rest of the ride back home lingered with tension and anger fuming from you. Right as she parked the car you were quick to get out repeatedly the same action to slam the door, walking inside your shared home with her you shut the door right before she walked in. Storming up to the shared bedroom you started to take your shoes off, wanting nothing more than to just lay down.

“Y/n, what is your actual problem?” Abby walked over to you as she grabbed your arm as gently as she could she needed you to look at her. Abby was big on communication and you weren’t, you both having very different lives that to you communication wasn’t a thing when you were angry, your anger never regulated properly only going from zero to hundred in a matter of seconds.

When you got angry, you weren’t you like someone else stepped into your body and did whatever it took to defend yourself from any pain. “For a fucking Doctor you’re really fucking stupid.” The words spitting out of your mouth were laced with venom, Abby taken aback from the sudden insult “Why are you being so disrespectful?” You laughed at her lack of situational awareness “Wow you’re really stupid Abby, you have the audacity to say im disrespectful when you were basically fucking Leah right in front of me!” Your hands clenched into a tight fist, nails digging into your palms it’s like all your emotions were turned off but anger.

“Calling me stupid isn’t going to make this situation any better, I suggest you fix your attitude then come speak to me.” You knew you pushed her buttons badly, Abby grabbed her pajamas before heading to the guest room but not before slamming the door.

You sat on your bed trying to calm yourself down only failing when you start sobbing into the pillow. Why do you always do this? Always quick to attack before anything else. God she was going to leave you wasn’t she? Abby can’t handle someone like you. You’re too much to handle, this is why you can’t keep a relationship.

Horrible thoughts ran through your head at hundreds miles per hour causing you to sob harder into the pillow, you hated that you couldn’t be normal, why couldn’t you just talk to her?

You decided to change into your pajamas before heading over to the guest room where you saw Abby reading a book, so focused she didn’t notice you by the doorway. “Are you gonna leave me?” You felt the tears form back into your eyes streaming down your face, the swelling and tightness in your throat hurting, you quickly covered your mouth with the back of your hand trying not to sob.

Abby was quick to put the book down, walking over to you to embrace you into her arms, her hand coming to hold the back of your head trying to soothe you. Sobbing into her chest you apologized profusely “I’m so— sorry Abby, I don’t know why I do that.” You managed to say between hiccups and sobs.

“Baby, baby look at me.” She held your face in her hands making you look at her, you saw the expression on her face soften seeing her lover cry like that felt like pins and needles in her heart “I’m not going to leave you, ever. I love you, I just need you to work on communicating with me and I will help you with that. I don’t think you realize how much your words actually hurt.” Her thumbs wiping every tear that fell down your puffed up face.

“Now tell me why you were so angry with me earlier?” Her soft blue orbs never leaving your tear filled eyes. “I just didn’t like how Leah was all over you, she was grabbing your arm and leaning on you, it made me uncomfortable and mad.” She acknowledged every word you said “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice what she was doing, i’ll talk to her about it and it will never happen again, I promise you baby.” She pressed her soft lips against yours, the most gentle kiss she’s ever given you.

“I love you Y/n and I’m going to marry you someday so don’t ever think that I will leave you.” You giggled a little at her marriage comment before you grabbed her face and kissed her deeply.

— 🎧　　 ◦ ✺ 　 📽　 ⟢ —

authors note — i hope this is what u were looking for!! btw i have bpd so everything i wrote is everything i feel when im angry😭

[kitybur]

𝐦𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐜𝐰𝐡𝐲

⌦ in which you just want cuddles from your faceless youtuber boyfriend. and he wants some kisses.

— warnings: pronouns not used, swearing, fluff, kissing, mention of nerf gun

| hihi!! I saw you wrote for Isaacwhy so I was wondering if I could request a fic of him with fluff prompt 1 ("come cuddle me you ugly bitch") or prompt 10 ("if I start kissing you, I don't think I could stop") I haven't been able to find any Issac fics so this would be greatly appreciated ^^ |

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austin, texas. the place your boyfriend had been living with his four bestfriends. you were in the process of moving in, along with yumi as you both decided it was time you joined the rest of the groupchat in the large house.

you were in yours and isaac’s shared bedroom, at the lower level of the house and one of the biggest rooms. you grabbed a red tote bag and carried it to the bathroom, unzipping it and placing your toiletries in their rightful spots.

distracted by putting shampoo on the bottom shelf of the cabinet under the sink, you jump when firm hands reached your shoulders, clasping them in a soft grip. your head shot back, releasing a breath when you saw isaac’s face come into view.

“jesus, are you trying to kill me on my first day?” you joked, closing the cabinet and standing up. isaac was taller than you, so craning your neck to look up at him made him feel giddy inside.

isaac chuckles, settling for one hand on your left cheek and one on the base of your neck. your own coming to rest on his waist. “never. just missed you.” your cheeks dusted a pink and isaac smirks, he loved when he made you flustered.

you leaned in, standing on your tippy toes to get better reach in height. isaac leaned down to ease you from neck pain, but paused before your lips could connect. he let out a deep breath, eyes flickering between yours. “if i start kissing you, i don't think i could stop” he whispered, breath against your nose.

“then don’t stop.” you whispered back, almost panting from the lack of his lips on yours. you let out a satisfied groan when he finally made the move, pink lips connecting with yours as you gripped his shirt in your palms.

lips moving against lips, you almost didn’t hear the knock at the bathroom door, too lost in each other. you pulled away when something stung your leg for a moment, looking at the door to see tanner with a nerf gun shooting plastic bullets at you.

“hey! what the hell!” isaac yelled, not releasing his hold on your cheek and neck. tanner stared at the both of you with a teasing smile.

“while the free show would be awesome, we’re hungry as fuck.” we?

larry, at that moment, had peaked around the corner with his own nerf gun in hand, pointing it at you and isaac like tanner had. ah, we.

“can’t you guys ask nick?” you asked.

“he left with yumi to record a vlog, or something.” larry paused. “can you guys please take us to get food?”

isaac looked at you with a look that said ‘i’m sorry’. you shook your head with a smile, almost telling him it was alright. the boys talked about we’re they wanted to go, and with a final kiss to your lips, you all headed out the door and into isaac’s car. off too another adventure.

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going out had taken longer than expected. it was around midnight when you lot had arrived back home and by then, everyone was tired. tanner and larry had stumbled to their rooms, half asleep still from taking a nap in the car.

you on the other hand, we’re making a beeline for the bathroom in your room, ready to get into bed and snuggle up with your boyfriend. you turned on the tap and brushed your teeth, hearing isaac come into the room.

once you were done, you looked up in the mirror, only to make eye contact with a shirtless isaac. your heart sped up as you took in his appearance and with a soft smile, you turned around and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. he hummed as you left the bathroom, taking this time for himself to get ready for bed.

you had been laying down for what seemed like forever with no isaac beside you. you were tired and whiney, wanting the attention from none other then the man himself.

“isaac.” you called out. “come cuddle me, you ugly bitch” like a reflex, isaac’s head popped out of the bathroom. he scoffed, turning off the bathroom light and made his way over to you.

“ugly bitch? do you see how sexy i am?” he flexed his muscles in mock, leaning against the wall by your head to prove his point.

“yeah, whatever, mr faceless. come and cuddle me.” he shook his head with a soft smile and pulled the blankets back, laying himself between your thighs so his chest was on your stomach. you put your hands in his hair and played with it, slowly getting him to drift off to sleep.

“i love you.” he mumbled.

“i love you, too.”

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a/n; idk how to feel about this. i don’t exactly know how to write for isaacwhy, sometimes im afraid my writing won’t match up with the character’s personality. i included both prompts to try and make this fic longer, so i hope that’s more then okay! and i agree, isaac fics are so hard to find 😩 so im glad i can provide this!

[fanficwritingcentral]

Finally wrote this out!!!!

There once was a prince of Sparta (AO3 link)

Summary: Hyacinthus knew it'd be awhile before he'd get to be reunited with his love Apollo, but he thought awhile would be a few weeks, when the war was over, not after Apollo went on a year long trial to regain his godly hood that he had to watch through a small tv screen.

~~~

"Where is he?" Hyacinthus asked as he looked over the sea at the edge of the Island of Delos, sitting beneath the trees and surrounded with his own flowers, still weary of the Sun. Because the sun means him and he cannot know.

Notes: Ok, so this is an idea that mainly came from my James Bond/Pjo crossover where I brought Hyacinthus back through Gaia who wanted some way to distract Apollo but Hyacinthus' mother, Clio the muse of history, got to him first and hid him from Apollo so he wouldn't get distracted from the war. Hyacinthus ended up in Sparta and went with the Argo crew to Delos where he asked Artemis for refuge on the island until it would be safe to reunite with Apollo.

Basically the exact same but with no James Bond.

Hope you enjoy!!!! It's taken me over a year to write this and decided what was necessary to summarise from four books. I hope you liked what I decided was important enough to write out.

Enjoy 😘✌️

"Where is he?" Hyacinthus asked as he looked over the sea at the edge of the Island of Delos, sitting beneath the trees and surrounded with his own flowers, still weary of the Sun. Because the sun means him and he cannot know.

"I don't know." A voice answered behind him, "father sent him away after our battle against the Giants," she paused and Hyacinthus heard her soft footsteps on the grass coming towards him. "It's been over two weeks, and I have not heard anything from him, nor felt a single impression of him." She swallowed, "especially in the Sun."

Hyacinthus turned to Artemis, "he hasn't been driving the chariot?" That fact derailed his mind from the thoughts of the war being over for two weeks and him not knowing and just why Zeus would send Apollo away after their battle.

Artemis shook her head, "it's only the other Sun gods doing their duties. Sol, Freyr, Amaterasu and the others."

"But no Apollo."

Artemis nodded, "but no Apollo."

Hyacinthus looked back over the sea, watching as the sunlight glistened over the water, his heart heavy. By the Fates it wasn't fair. Haven't they been through enough?

"I will find him." Artemis vowed, "I will not rest until I know my twin is safe."

With that statement, Hyacinthus felt her presence disappear. Hanging his head, he sighed and stood up and walked out of the cover of the leaves, his flowers growing and dying after each footstep and stood in the light of the sun. Finally feeling the warmth he hasn't felt on his human skin in millennia.

"Where are you?" He whispered, absorbing the sun's warmth he denied himself after being brought back months ago. A warmth he once took such comfort in now only brought pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Three months pass and Hyacinthus is in his small hut, given to him by Artemis when she granted him refuge on Delos after he came to the island on the Argo II with those seven demigods that swore on the Styx not to reveal his return to Apollo, doing his best to keep his mind off said missing lover (not that it ever worked).

Artemis walked in and the hope he'd feel in the early months didn't even rise. All hope he once had, had been lost each time Artemis came back with no news to tell.

"Nothing?" He asked, pausing in his movements of putting towels away, prepared for the instant agreement.

But, this time, she did something different. This time, Artemis hesitated.

Hyacinthus put down the towels he was holding and came over to her, "Artemis please, what is it, what have you found?"

She pursued her lips and looked away from him.

"Artemis, please."

"I believe our father is still punishing him." She finally revealed quietly.

"Artemis, what do you mean 'still'? Why would Apollo be punished in the first place?" Hyacinthus asked slowly.

"It's why our father sent him away after the Giants battle, to be punished for allowing the prophecy of the seven be revealed this early, among other things." She said, her moon-like eyes shining with pain, "I didn't say it before because there is nothing my twin hates more than others knowing of the pain he goes through, especially those he loves."

Hyacinthus pulled out a chair and sat down, holding his head in his hands. He heard the tentative footsteps of the goddess coming closer to him and felt the warmth of the hand she placed on his shoulder.

"I'm scared Hyacinthus," she whispered, "I'm scared for my twin, for what punishment our father is dealing to him that's taking this long."

"How sure are you that your father still has him?" He asked.

A beat passes, then, "very sure," she said.

Hyacinthus closed his eyes and wished for the mind numbing existence of the plant he once was.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"We don't know yet. There's only something we can tell that's been hidden," she said the word with disgust, "from us. Apollo needs to be as focused as he can, if he were to find that you've come back now, that your return had been hidden from him, in the midst of him discovering he's completely mortal and what he has to do." Her voice broke, "he's barely hanging on as it is Hyacinthus, if you went to him now, I don't know what would happen."

Hyacinthus hated it, a lot, but he understood Artemis. He knew he'd understand her more later when he had some time to think about it but now, there was one thing that stood out to him.

"You've seen him?" He asked, tonelessly.

"I have," she admitted, "his services have been claimed by a demigod named Meg McCaffrey and Percy Jackson is currently taking them to Camp Half-blood."

"Is Apollo alright?"

"Better than he was."

"Artemis, what do you mean?"

Her moon yellow eyes burnt into him, "I promise you," she said, anger filled her voice, "you don't want to know."

"Artemis," he started.

"I promise you." She said fiercely.

He closed his eyes, "alright," he said and opened them again, "if I cannot go to him, is there a way for me to be able to see him?"

Artemis nodded, "I can give you one of Hephaestus' small tv screens, he has already created a channel to watch Apollo's journey," that fact made Hyacinthus ball his fists, Apollo's punishment turned into some kind of entertainment, "but remember, you won't hear or see everything that happens, only what Hephaestus' cameras consider note worth," she said with the same anger Hyacinthus felt in his chest.

"Thank you," he said to her and picked up his shears, "would you be able to place it in the hut?"

"I can if you'd like," she said, "but the TV can follow you wherever you'd want it."

"Oh."

With a wave of her hand, a screen appeared with wings flapping on the sides that held it in the air. Artemis also held a black rectangle with colourful dots in her hand.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked and held the black rectangle up.

"No, I only just understand the TV, Artemis."

"It's called a remote," she told him, "it's what you use to control the tv." She then explained the different functions of its many buttons. After the lengthy explanation, she looked up at him, “do you understand?” She asked.

Hyacinthus nodded, "I've got it."

"Good," Artemis said, "I'll write it down for you. I'll also set it up to show Apollo, but if you find you've accidentally changed the channel just press the seven here," she pointed to the button with a seven on it, "three times and it will take you back. I'll write that down too."

"Thank you, Artemis," he said quietly.

"Just know that what you see may upset you and I expect that you'll beg me to take you to him. But I can't, not yet at least."

Hyacinthus' eyebrows shoot up, "yet?" He asked, hopefully.

"Yet," she agreed, "I'll take you when I find the timing best."

"Thank you," he said again with tears in his eyes.

Artemis gave him a slight smile, "I'll set the TV up for you now."

Hyacinthus returned her smile and went to quickly put his shears away. He's got his lover to watch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus, when he first saw Apollo's mortal form, couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Oh 'pollo," he said, his smile audible in his voice as he looked at the young spotty face of his godly lover, "this is truly your worst nightmare, isn't it?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Artemis," Hyacinthus called out in worry, knowing she'll be able to hear, "the children are going missing."

He felt a presence in his mind, "I know," she said, her tone regretful, "we cannot interfere."

"But it's their children!"

"I know, Hyacinthus. I know." And her presence left his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh, Apollo, my love, you unfairly beautiful fool," Hyacinthus said as he watched Apollo swear on the river Styx to never play music or do archery again while he's mortal, "what have you done."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"But his children, Artemis!" Hyacinthus said to her as she stood at the end of his table, his arms gesturing out, "his children are now in the forest, possibly going insane from the regrown Forest of Dodona and you expect me to just watch!"

"I do," Artemis said, her tone resolute, "there is nothing we can do but watch."

"Send me now," he demanded, "I need to help him save them."

"No." She said, "I will not."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So the thing that's been hidden from the gods was that the worst three Roman Emperors never died and formed the company Triumvirate Holdings." Hyacinthus said, as he threw bird feed out for the swans.

"That's right," Artemis said as she sat on the fence of the pen.

"Explain the Emperors to me, please," he asked, "they were way after my time."

"Of course. Now, the three are Nero, Commodus and Caligula. Out of the three Nero was the worst…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A presence filled his mind as he layed in bed, trying to get what rest he could. It's not a presence he's felt before.

"You want to help him, kid?" The voice asked, tone cool and relaxed.

"Who are you?" He asked in return, ready to pray to Artemis and his mother for help.

"None of that now," the voice said and for a second he saw an image of a dark skinned woman wearing a necklace with an odd large circle pendant with weird shaped slices, "just chill, yeah?"

"Just, chill?" He repeated in confusion.

The voice sighed, "look, do you want to help my grandson or not?"

"Who is your grandson?"

The voice sighed again, "my grandson, Apollo."

"Apollo's your grandson? But that would make you-"

"Yes, yes, his grandmother Rhea, now I will ask you once more. Do you want to help him?"

"Yes, I do, but how can I trust who you are?"

"I swear on the river Styx I am Rhea and I'll do you no harm," Hyacinthus heard thunder rumble outside, "is that good enough for you?"

"It is, yes," his voice meek now he knows the mother of the gods is speaking to him, "what do I need to do."

"Nothing more than sleep, kid. I'll take care of the rest."

Hyacinthus fell asleep the instant he closed his eyes. When he woke, he half remembered an odd dream with Apollo's mortal form, talking of caves and springs of all things.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"By the Gods," Hyacinthus muttered as he saw the missing demigods bound to wooden crosses in white cloth, ready to be burnt.

"Artemis, I want this fake god dead," he said, the same rage Apollo surely felt in his shaking form as he took in the sight.

"As do I," Artemis answered in his mind, her fury unhidden.

Hyacinthus' rage turned to pain and sadness as he watched Meg leave with her cruel step-father (who doesn't even deserve the title of father) and then as the Dryads of the forest took in the fire and sacrificed themselves to save Apollo and the demigods.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus laughed himself to the ground amidst his flowers that began to grow over him at the sight of the giant statue of his lover's body (of course he knew it was Apollo's body) now relieved of its Nero shaped head just because Apollo gave it a chill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So now he's to go off with Leo and Calypso," said Hyacinthus with closed eyes as he layed in the sun, his flowers surrounding him and swaying in the breeze.

"His task is not over yet," Artemis reminded him as she sat beside him. "He still has four oracles to gain back."

"I know, but I am proud of what he's done."

"As am I."

"And his strength," said Hyacinthus, "you saw that, right?"

"I did," Artemis agreed, "I don't think my father was as absolute in taking away Apollo's powers as he liked to believe."

Hyacinthus hummed in agreement and let himself fall into a light doze.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Six weeks," Hyacinthus kicked a chair, "six weeks I had to wait to see him again and only got a few minutes of a fight before it went fuzzy just as they got saved."

"Artemis," he said, noticing her grin, "why are you smiling? Artemis?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He's going to save griffins?" Hyacinthus said to Apollo Jr who honked in reply.

"Right you are," he nodded, "I don't understand either."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So this is Commodus," Hyacinthus said with a stirring pit in his gut he was trying to ignore. He knew how Apollo was and knew this relationship happened long after his death. But, still.

"Don't worry, my sweet boy," his mother told him, knowing him completely and kissed the side of his head, "you're still my favourite of Apollo's lovers." She then grinned, "even more than me."

"Mother!"

His mother just laughed brightly in return.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think he's changing Artemis," Hyacinthus said and felt a sense of foreign agreement in his mind.

He watched Apollo try and push life into Meg. He already felt a rollercoaster of emotions after watching Apollo lose his mind drinking water from those springs (why do those springs feel so familiar, like something from once upon a dream?).

But watching Apollo try his hardest to bring this young girl back to life made his heart feel a little lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Hyacinthus, close your eyes!" Artemis shouted at him in panic and he had no choice but to comply.

The instant he did, bright light filled the room. It was so bright that it even brought pain to his closed eyes (surprising since it came from such a small screen).

"You can open them now," Artemis said, with wonder in her tone.

"What was that?" Hyacinthus asked and opened his watery eyes.

"My brother just released his divine form."

Hyacinthus blinked. "What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Artemis, let me go," he said to the goddess, "I can help them."

"No," she replied, "not yet."

"Camp Jupiter is going to be attacked! I can do something, I know how to fight, I was a prince of Sparta!"

"And you've spent over three-thousand years as a flower, Hyacinthus," she said gently, "how much of that do you even remember?"

Hyacinthus slammed his hands on the table, stood up and left.

"Hyacinthus!" Artemis called out to him.

"I'm going to the swans!" He shouted in reply as he walked away without turning back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You were always a good swordsman," his mother said as she walked to him in his self made training area.

"I was," Hyacinthus said as he huffed with his sword movements, "but it's been over three thousand years since then." He then dropped his sword with a hiss as he felt a sharp pull of a muscle in his arm, "I need to practice again."

His mother hummed, "is this because of Apollo?"

Hyacinthus dropped to the ground beside his sword for a rest. "Some parts, yes, but also for me. Artemis was right, there isn't much I remember since being a flower."

His mother sat beside him and gently brushed a hand over his flowers that had grown around him, "I could never find myself to be upset about your fate. You were taken from me so cruelly, yet there was still a part of you I could keep. I was thankful for it. And now you've been brought back to me completely, and it doesn't even matter that it was because of Gaea. I could hold you in my arms again."

Hyacinthus tilted his head and regarded her, "forgive me, mother," he said, "but what is your point with this?"

His mother cupped his face, "I did not miss you because you were a prince or a talented swordsman, I missed you because you are my beautiful son. Your past is past so don't try to force yourself to be who you once were. Who you are now is what's important."

"But how can I help him if I can't even hold a sword properly, if I can't even hit a target with an arrow? What use am I then?"

"Hyacinthus, my sweet, my little prince," his mother pulled him into her arms and held him tight, "if you were to appear to Apollo now, just as you are, the last thought on his mind would be on how useful you are to him. But train, if you must, for your own peace of mind. And remember, please, don't despair if you find you're not as you once were. You are who you are now, and that is enough."

Tears fell down Hyacinthus' face as he listened to his mother and felt the comfort of her arms.

"Now tell me," she said and kissed his head, "what is dear Apollo up to now?"

Hyacinthus pulled himself out of his mother's arms and wiped his eyes, "he's with Piper and Jason," he cleared his throat, "and something about needing to steal Caligula's shoes?" He said with a confused tilt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus looked at the screen from where he sat, then to the swans and then back to the screen.

"Do you think you could do that?" He asked the swans as he watched Caligula's horse capture his lover and the three demigods.

Delilah came over and honked in his face before pecking the ground covered in little yellow flowers and his own for food next to Apollo Jr the third.

Hyacinthus sighed as he got up and went to get more feed for them, "yeah, didn't think so."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus looked at the screen.

"He's dead," he said and stared at the image of Jason, the youngest of the King of the Gods' children, speared to the ground.

Jason, who showed him kindness on the ship, before he was dropped off at Delos. Who would always try to help him out with something that confused him about the new world.

His last words to Apollo, begging him to remember what it's like to be human.

"He's dead," Hyacinthus repeated and looked at the heartbroken expression on his lover's face.

"He's dead.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is there anything you can tell me?" Hyacinthus asked the flowers hoarsely, voice still rough with his tears from Jason's death, "Apollo going into the Labyrinth makes the screen say 'technical difficulties'?"

Little whispers were his reply, "great, old, hot" and "dark" were the only decipherable words amongst them.

Hyacinthus swallowed, "I see, thank you my friends," he closed his eyes and listened to the flowers happy little chatters at being thanked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Let Thalia know they're sending him to Camp Jupiter for his burial." He said at night and looked at the moon

"She knows." The Goddess replied in his mind and he watched as she drove her chariot over the starry night sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus thanked both Artemis/Diana (can never be too careful with them heading into Camp Jupiter) and his mother for the young demigod Lavinia who saved Apollo and Meg (and the coffin he could barely think of who it contained) with her friends from the Eurynomos.

“You're welcome my sweet,” his mother said absentmindedly as her eyes seemed to be trained on the young girl. “She looks familiar to me.” she stated.

Hyacinthus stared hard at his mother. “She better not be my sister.”

“No, no” his mother said, waving a hand, “there's just someth-,” and then grinned triumphantly. “She is your cousin. A daughter of my sister, the muse of dancing, Terpsichore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tears fell down Hyacinthus’ face as he watched Jason's funeral. The love he could feel from all those in Camp Jupiter practically radiated from the screen.

He watched as the Wolf Goddess Lupa called Apollo to speak with him, as she told how Apollo would be able to finally call for help but only if he managed to defeat Tarquin.

How her piercing wolf eyes stared right into his through the screen just before she disappeared.

“You better call for your sister, Apollo,” he said to himself in his hut, “she will answer you, I know it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus was grateful he was sitting down as he didn't know how much more his heart could take. Apollo apparently was infected with poison that was slowly killing him and turning him into one of Tarquin’s undead slaves. And when did Apollo get infect- No, Hyacinthus' thoughts stopped as his mind went back to when Apollo and Meg were heading to camp Jupiter, how one of the eurynomos lightly, ever so lightly, scratched Apollo.

“By the gods,” He whispered in horror.

Hyacinthus then had to wait another day for the tv to show Apollo again, only to come to a war on Camp Jupiter, Apollo looking even worse, Diana not answering Apollo's call (why oh why had she not answered) and now watching Frank light himself and the Emperor Caligula on fire with the stick that holds Frank's life.

Apollo Jr. Jr. Jr. honked in protest as Hyacinthus squeezed him tighter while the other swans honked without a care around him and his flowers curled themselves around his arms and legs in his agitation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Diana!" He screamed out, hands now fisted into his hair after releasing Apollo Jr. Jr. Jr. from his hold as he watched Apollo fall to the ground on the screen, finally succumbing to the fatal injury from the Eurynomos.

"I'm there." He heard her say in his mind, her voice having a more formal tone in this aspect than as Artemis.

Hyacinthus sobbed into his hands as he saw Diana appear at Apollo's side and began to heal him.

"He'll be fine." She said to him in his mind, "I swear it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hyacinthus watched with relief and longing as a healthy Apollo and Meg were getting ready to head back towards New York (and hopefully Camp Half Blood) on screen. Not so much however to also ignore his feeling of delight at seeing the alive figure of Frank.

"They've done so well," he said to himself, eyes trained on his lover's face (young and different as it was, it was still unmistakably him). Apollo had recovered four oracles as a mortal, a feat worthy of the epics his lover so favoured.

"They have," Artemis agreed as she appeared without warning and caused Hyacinthus to jump with a shout.

"Art-" he started after his heart calmed down then actually looked at her, "Diana," he corrected himself and bit his lip, "how… how is he?"

"He's well," she said and the formality in her tone was even more apparent when she spoke out loud rather than in the mind, "just as I promised you he would be."

He nodded and looked back at the screen that had gone dark now that nothing it didn't believe was of any interest was happening.

"How long until you deem I can go to him?"

"How does now sound to you?"

His head shot towards her and he took her smirking face with full gleaming silver eyes and grinned.

"Now sounds wonderful." He said and went to grab the pack he's had ready since he knew of Apollo's fate and his weapons that were hidden as rings.

"I'll take you to Camp Half Blood," Diana said as Hyacinthus double checked to make sure he had everything, "and the swans will go with you.”