#cabin pressure ofc

[radio-mogel]

why are there two arthurs on my dashboard now this is really confusing

[star-girl69]

I Can See You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse work together to get revenge on a mutual enemy, but when that plan involves pretending to date clarisse, something better than revenge happens. requested by anonymous!

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE HOLY FRICK. the beginning is so bad and just like worldbuilding but i PROMISE!!!!! keep reading!!!!!! pls ignore the fact im reusing jackie and tyla i’m attached to them anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

I Can See You - Taylor Swift

(also Dress by tay was the original title soooo…..)

warnings: not proofread, the beginning is so bad i swear it gets better, a little suggestive haha…., kissing ofc, fake dating!!!!!!!!!, JEALOUS CLARISSE JEALOUS CLARISSE I REPEAT JEALOUS CLARISSE!!!!!!!, swearing, violence, mentions of murder!, protective clarisse the loml, ALCOHOL!!!!! reader gets drunk, allusions to sex, MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT please be VERY careful, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

“What the hell are you all doing?”

You had waited until nighttime for a reason, for the light of the full moon and hopefully some peace. You and your siblings looked up at the voice.

Xavier Bones was possibly the rudest and most self-centered person you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. His father was Ares, which made sense, seeing as he had a wicked temper and was strong as shit. Most of the kids from the Ares cabin could probably snap you like a stick if they wanted, but what scares you about Xavier is that he might actually do it.

He’s rude to everyone he sees, but he particularly has it out for the Aphrodite cabin. Just because Aphrodite kids didn’t have skill in battle like Ares kids, or aren’t wicked smart like Athena kids doesn’t mean they’re worthless. Xavier just didn’t understand anything except brute force.

He didn’t understand any other kind of power.

The whole reason you’re out here tonight is to finally finish the potion you’ve been making. Amokinesis was strictly a spoken sort of magic, and it was hard to do it to more than one person. But, you and your siblings had decided that maybe you could try and follow in the steps of sorceresses like Medea and Circe, using spelled objects and potions to execute your power. You had been collaborating with a Hecate kid for weeks now, learning everything you could about potion making until you were finally ready to try and make a simple truth potion- love and desire also opened the door to truth.

Aster, the daughter of Hecate who had been helping you, said it was a relatively easy first timer potion and hopefully with your Amokinesis it would come together.

You look up at Xavier, watching as he smiles in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re trying to make some sort of love potion, huh?” He sits down at the picnic table, curiously leaning in to look at it.

“Get back,” Jackie, your sibling, hisses waving her hand at him so he’ll back up.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles, some glint in his eyes. He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re wasting all this time, seeing as it probably won’t work.”

“Shut up, Xavier,” you sighed. You needed this bad. You needed to prove to everyone that love wasn’t a stupid power. You were so sick of Xavier, of everyone and their treatment of the Aphrodite cabin. Jackie wanted so desperately to learn how to use a spear, but no one would pay enough attention to her.

You need this.

“I thought you guys were supposed to be nice?”

You opt to ignore him.

“Hm, okay, definitely not nice. Good thing I’m not either.”

He spits his gum out and drops it straight into the cauldron.

“Fucking bitch!” Jackie screams, Tyla looks like she’s about to cry, and the wooden spoon you’re holding in your hands is about to crack under the pressure.

The potion changes an odd color, a murky brown.

“Oops,” he says.

He laughs and walks away, and you faintly wonder what happened to him to make him so cruel.

—-

The next morning you’re all stewing silently at breakfast. Jackie is glaring daggers at the Ares table, Tyla is ranting about how you need to get all the ingredients again, and you’re trying to listen and join Jackie at staring maliciously.

“I’m gonna murder him, I think.”

“I’ll help,” you murmur, favoring staring at your hands instead of being caught staring at him.

“Do you think Clarisse will let me borrow her spear? How much would that sting, getting killed by one of your Dad’s weapons, huh?”

“She probably would,” Tyla mumbles. “She hates him too, ever since he beat her sparring.”

You resist the urge to scoff. You were there that day, and Xavier had played dirty.

They were sparring, she was winning, when he suddenly pointed behind her and shouted that Ares was there. Of course, everyone had turned to look, and he had disarmed her and kicked her down while she was distracted.

Of course, the next day he was walking around sporting a black eye, but Clarisse had never lived that day down. Xavier had never lived that down, either, exactly why they’re sitting on opposite ends of the table now.

Jackie stares off into the distance. She lets out a small laugh.

“I have a horrible idea.”

“What if we make Xavier fall in love with one of us, right?”

You and Tyla both gag.

“Wait, wait! But then we just lead him on, and maybe Clarisse will do us a favor and pretend to date-”

Tyla snorts. “She would never do that.”

You remember seeing the anger on her face that day. The rage, really, the betrayal. But you remember seeing the sadness too. A part of her had really thought Ares was gonna be there. You remember feeling so, so bad for her.

No one should deserve to feel like that, but it comes with the territory of being a demigod.

“It wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Tyla and Jackie stare at you like you’ve just cursed out Hades.

“I’ll do it. Tyla, no offense, but I think you’d crack under the pressure. And Jacks, you would just start punching him.”

“Yeah,” Tyla murmurs.

“I would,” Jackie agrees.

“I mean, it might actually work.”

—-

You corner her the next day.

She’s outside her cabin, practicing some spear forms when you walk over to her. This is all moving so fast, but you can’t help the fact that revenge is so fun. Why wait when you can get it now?

Revenge is supposed to be served best cold, but you’ve always been a little too handsy, a little too greedy for your own good. You want revenge and you want it now.

“Clarisse, hi.” You smile, she spares you a glance and doesn’t say anything. “I’m Y/N, you don’t know me but I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

The spear stops in mid air. She moves from a offensive position to a standing position, and she looks you up and down so painfully slow that you think your organs are gonna burst.

“What?”

“So, you know Xavier?” you sit down on the picnic bench behind you. “I’m sure you know him, and I’m sure you know that he’s an asshole. He ruined something me and my siblings were doing, and he’s been so rude to all Aphrodite kids for so long so, we just wanna get him back.

She squints at you. “How?”

“We’re gonna use our amokinesis to make him fall in love with me, then maybe, hopefully, we can fake date to make him lose his mind.”

She stares at you blankly for a second. Your heart drops, oh, Gods, you never should have done this.

You’re gonna be the laughingstock of camp.

“‘Cause, you know, you both hate each others guts. And if he’s in love with me, but then he sees you and me together- it was this whole thing about making him see the power of love, you know, ‘cause like-”

She grabs you by your cheeks, pinching your face together, your lips puffing out.

“You can stop rambling, now.” She smiles in a demeaning way, and you would feel insulted if the way she wasn’t gripping your face right now wasn’t addicting. “I actually think it’s a pretty great plan. Surprising, but, whatever.”

You ignore that.

“So, you’ll do it?”

“When are you gonna spell him?”

“As soon as possible, tonight, at the bonfire.”

“Okay,” she nods, thinking to herself. “Come meet me before you do it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Clarisse La Rue touched your face. Clarisse touched your face, and you really fucking liked it.

—-

The three of you sit by the edge of the bonfire. You locked eyes with Clarisse a few minutes ago, letting her know you’re here.

Tyla fusses with your hair, even though you all spent an hour making everything about you perfect. It would be nice to look hot if you were gonna make him fall in love with you.

You watch as she makes her way towards the bathrooms.

Her golden skin shines in the light of the fire, she adjusts her shirt, and you swear you see her abs just under the orange fabric-

“Clarisse is pretty, isn’t she?” Tyla says. “I mean, I almost wish I was the one fake dating her.”

And she is. She is so painfully pretty.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” you wink.

When you step into the bathroom, Clarisse locks the door behind you. You turn around and she’s there. She looks you up and down. You can’t make out the look on her face.

“You’re really trying to impress him, huh?” she smirks. You ignore that.

The ceiling is low in here, so you walk to the corner and reach up at the loose board. You slide it over, reaching inside and grabbing the small bag.

Aphrodite kid secret- makeup is hidden everywhere around camp.

She stares at you. “Has that always been up there?”

You go to the mirror, taking out the mascara and applying another layer.

“Uh… yeah.”

She leans against the wall next to the mirror, watching you with such an intensity it’s like you’re the one beautiful thing in some bloody war she can’t take her eyes away from.

“We should probably set some ground rules,” you say. She hums. “This will probably only be for a month or so.”

“That’s fine.”

You stare pointedly at yourself in the mirror. You, Jacks and Tyla had dumped almost all of your plates into the offerings fire at lunch, hoping for good luck from Aphrodite. With the way your skin seems to glow, your makeup flawless, it seems she’s pleased by your offerings.

Maybe her and Ares are having a fight up on Olympus, and she’s itching to see him knocked down a peg, however vicariously through someone else.

“Well, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“I- what?” you blink, staring at Clarisse like she just turned into a cyclops.

“You can kiss me, hug me, whatever. I mean, we should really do this if we’re gonna do it. Sell it, or whatever.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I guess you can do whatever too.”

Clarisse can touch you wherever she wants.

You look up discreetly. Please, Mom, you think. Don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue.

It’s fine to admit to yourself that you’d like to jump on top of her, but she’s still an Ares kid. She’s a bully, if you’re being honest. But can you say that you’re not one too after this?

Love can burn down cities, love can start wars, love can end them. Love is always there from the beginning of your life to your beginning. The doctor who delivered you loves their career. The woman who makes flower arrangement for your funeral loves flowers, even if she hates making them for funerals.

Love is always there, and when it’s used as a weapon you know it is one of the deadliest things.

But you’re too deep in this now.

She walks around so she’s standing behind you, adjusting her hair in the mirror.

She puts her hand on your hip. You take a deep breath, you pretend. You pretend so hard it might become real.

She smiles brightly in the mirror. “See you out there, baby.”

—-

You pull your top down. That’s the easiest way to get a man to look at you. Pull your top down. You get a few looks as you move through the tree trunk benches, careful that you don’t accidentally trip, because that would completely fuck up the plan.

There’s a part of you that comes from your mother. The part that some may call vain, but how is it your fault to enjoy the attention that other people are giving you? It’s not your fault they’re looking. It’s not your fault you look like your mother’s daughter.

You walk a little longer, finally setting your eyes on Xavier, sitting across the fire from Clarisse and her group. You eyes meet hers. She pretends to itch her nose, but you can see the laugh she’s hiding. You take one more deep breath, say one more please to your mother.

“Xavier,” you say. “Can I sit?”

He already seems a little shocked that you’re talking to him on purpose, but he quickly recovers and pushes his friend down the trunk.

You sit, your thigh touching his, folding your hands over your legs.

“I just wanted to say, Xavier, that you were right. The other night… the potion would have failed anyways. Thank you so much for ruining it when you did. Who knows what could have happened? It could have exploded everywhere.”

You laugh, putting your hand on his arm. He looks up at you, mouth slightly parted.

You said his name twice and he’s already sucked in.

“Really, Xavier, thank you.” You smile softly, looking at his lips before back up to his eyes.

His hand lands on your knee.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You watch Jackie walk by. He doesn’t hear her whisper. But you see it in his eyes.

You pretend to blush, brushing your hand down his arm before it lands back in your own lap. He leans in closer, until his lips are brushing your ear.

“Why don’t I give you some more things to be thankful for?”

Tyla walks by. He doesn’t hear her whisper either.

“Oh, I should really get back to Clarisse. Sorry, Xavier,”

His hand tightens on your knee and he pulls back.

“C-Clarisse? What would you be doing with her?”

You feign innocence. “Well, she’s my girlfriend. I do a lot of things with her,” you giggle. “I just wanted to thank you, but I should get going. Bye, Xavier!”

You blow him a kiss as you stand up, and you can practically see the hearts in his eyes right along with the blazing rage. You can feel him stare as you walk away, hips swaying.

Clarisse is still trying to hide her laugh when you start walking over to her. The tree trunk around her is all full of people, and a few more are even on the ground.

You stand in front of her, smiling softly.

“Are you not gonna let your girlfriend sit down?”

“Of course I am.”

She leans back and pats her knee. She draws you forward by wrapping her big hand around your hip. When you sit down, she rests her hand flat against your stomach, pressing you right to her. Her other hand rests on your thigh.

Please, Mom, don’t let me fall in love with Clarisse La Rue. Don’t let me like her touching me like this.

Everyone is staring.

It’s exhilarating.

You twist your face into something serious, trying not to break out into a fit of embarrassing giggles.

Her breath tickles your neck.

“I gotta admit, you little witch, that was impressive.”

You smile and place your hand over hers.

“I know.”

—-

The day after the bonfire, everybody at camp is talking about you and Clarisse.

How long have they been dating? Why did they decide to become public now? I swear I saw Y/N and Xavier getting close, though, what happened?

You’ve been trying not to break out laughing all morning. During breakfast you blew Clarisse a kiss and heard one of your siblings gasp dramatically and mumble about how sweet young love is.

Jackie and Tyla made paper hearts for you during arts n’ crafts, talking loudly about how you were such a lovesick little thing. You know Xavier heard about all of those things, because he stares at you every chance he gets and glares at Clarisse at the same time.

You keep exchanging subtle glances with her, small smiles, secrets in between your gazes. It’s nice to have something like this.

After dinner, the two of you go to the woods to pretend like you’re having a secret date. Clarisse brings her spear and you bring a blanket.

You’ve been laying there comfortably for a while, arms under your head like a pillow.

“I wanna know how you did it,” she says, turning her spear in her hands. You open one eye to look at her.

“I say his name a bunch of times. With, like, a lot of intention. Then Jackie and Tyla came by and whispered “you’re in love with the girl in front of you” and other stuff like that. It’s hard to explain. It’s just, like, this power.”

“I was imagining, like, one of those mortal movies, you know? A potion, or something.”

“Oh, we’re trying that too. Medea used her amokinesis in the form of potions and spelled objects, so me, Jackie, and Tyla have been talking to Aster, who’s a child of Hecate, and we tried to make a truth potion.” You laugh, thinking of that night. “That’s why we’re doing this, actually. Xavier found us and stuck his gum in it, so… completely ruined. We have to wait for the next full moon and get all the ingredients. It sucks, whatever, I guess.”

She listened intently the entire time you were talking. Aphrodite kids are always jumping from one thing to another. Clarisse is so focused and single-minded. It feels good to be the center of just one person’s attention. Not having people look at you, but just one person look at you.

“Every time I see him I think about stabbing him 20 times. Now I’ll think about sticking gum in his ear, too.” She turns to you and smiles.

None of that stupid smirking shit she always does, or those over-exaggerated demeaning smiles, she really smiles at you.

Her smile is really pretty.

You laugh along with her after a second.

“I would love to see that,” you murmur, propping yourself up on your forearms. “What really made you agree to do this? I mean, I know you guys surface level hate each other but, come on, I was just rambling and you were all ‘let’s do it’.”

“I hate him,” she shrugs. “Why do you care, anyways? You got what you wanted. Enjoy my beautiful self while it lasts.”

“Yeah, okay,” you chuckle.

You don’t leave until the stars come out.

—-

The second day after the bonfire, Clarisse invites you to sit with her at lunch. Usually, you’re supposed to stay at your cabin tables, but Chiron is busy all day and no one would snitch on Clarisse.

You walk over with your tray in hand, watching as she whispers something to her siblings. You smile at them before she pats the seat next to her.

“Hey,” the boy next to you greets. “I’m Matty.”

He points to the girl across from him. “That’s Marjorie,” he points to the other boy with dark skin across from Clarisse, “That’s Daniel,” and finally your eyes land on the blonde girl sitting across from you.

“I’m Sarah,” she smiles. She seems nice, at least. So does Matty. The rest just seem sort of standoffish. There’s a scuffle under the table, then Daniel glares at Clarisse.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”

Matty is sickly sweet nice, handsome too, and you almost wonder if he’s really a child of Ares. But he’s got that same focus like Clarisse.

He asks you questions and listens to your answers.

He had the bad stroke of fate in accidentally getting you going about your experiments in potions and amokinesis, and you find yourself shuffling closer to him.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “I’ll stop torturing you now.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I love a passionate person.”

You weren’t sure if he meant that to be flirting.

Usually you’re good at picking up these things, all Aphrodite kids have a knack for it, but you think he’s just really nice.

You stare at him, tilting your head to the side when Clarisse suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you closer to her. Her breath tickles your neck, just like the bonfire.

“You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, not his,” she whispers, her chin resting against your shoulder.

You roll your eyes. “Am I not allowed to have a conversation?”

“Not when he’s looking.” You spare a quick glance. Xavier is looking at you, a mix between glaring and starting longingly.

“He looks like a cross-eyed dog,” you giggle.

And to your surprise, Clarisse presses her face into your shoulder to muffle her laugh.

—-

All the time you spend with Clarisse is like some stupid board game you play with Tyla and Jackie when there’s nothing else to do. Jenga. That one where you crack the ice and try not to make the polar ball fall.

The games where you chip it away slowly, one by one, wondering if this time will be the time that it falls, if you’ll be the one to lose the game.

You push a little more each time with Clarisse. Each conversation, you learn a little more, you chip away a few of her walls.

It’s addicting to open her up slowly, to get to know her like this. And when it’s just you and her alone, when Xavier isn’t around to torture, you swear it doesn’t feel fake.

—-

The eighth day after the bonfire, you skip arts n’ crafts to follow Clarisse to the archery range.

While the Apollo kids have all that effortless, natural skill with archery, Ares kids are still deadly. You faintly remember seeing Clarisse shoot once. Even though it’s not her weapon of choice, her aim was deadly and she didn’t miss one shot.

You’re okay with a bow.

Clarisse sees the perfect opportunity to flaunt in front of Xavier.

As soon as you crest the hill, your eyes find his, and he beelines towards you.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what can I do for you?”

It’s easy to switch on that stereotypical persona. You twist your fingers into your shirt.

“Yeah, can you help me?” you look up at him, trying to be as disgustingly sweet as you can,

“What’d you need?” he takes a step closer, about to cage you in between him and the cart full of bows and arrows.

“Can you help me pick out a bow? I don’t know what one would be right for me, I don’t know anything about archery. Please?”

He reaches past you, coming close so your back hits the wooden cart. You can’t help the way your eyes widen. He’s bold, you’ll give him that. Everyone reacts differently under the spell, but their true personalities still shine through.

He picks one up, running his hand up and down the curved wood. He plucks at the string, nodding to himself.

“This one’s fit for a lady.”

You take it, fingertips brushing his. “Oh, thank you so much, Xavier.” You give him a small side hug as you run past him, eager to get away from him.

You just need to find Clarisse.

“Hey, don’t you need some help shooting?” you glance over your shoulder, watching him advance.

Where the hell is Clarisse?

You’re about to say you’re fine when you suddenly slide into someone’s arms. You would have slammed into her, if not for the way Clarisse softly reached out to touch your arm, and Gods, you recognize the feel of her skin.

You knew she was there and you gratefully walked forward, your chests touching, her arm around your shoulders.

“I’ll take it from here, Xavier.”

You look up at her. She’s smiling in that same demeaning way.

You’ve grown to like it.

He doesn’t say anything else. You hear him stomp off.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. When you open your eyes after a moment, you realize how close you are.

You’re so close it’s just one move and that’s it. One move and you both know that’ll change it all.

You think she just worked out. You can feel the muscles of her arm against you, you can see the sweat on her hairline, you can see her breathing heavily.

You could just press your ear to her chest and feel everything.

The way her brown eyes reflect the sunshine is mesmerizing. You’ve been looking at her for so long, but it’s like you’re looking into the surface of a lake you swear you recognize, slightly green murky waters, but there was a whole world under the surface if you cared to look.

But you didn’t care to look for the Clarisse under the surface. You don’t care. You don’t want to.

She clears her throat and let’s go of you.

You back up.

“Put that thing down, he probably fucking poisoned it.”

You turn the bow in your hands, but when you look up, she’s already walking towards the far end of the field.

“Wait, wait, what am I gonna use then?”

“Mine, obviously.” You drop the bow.

—-

After taking a few deep breaths, and Clarisse going over the basics again, you filled your mind with images of a bow and arrow and not of her eyes. Not of her lips.

Clarisse La Rue hates Aphrodite kids too, just not as much as Xavier, and not enough to resist revenge.

You focus on that. That’s why you’re here. Revenge.

Revenge for every fucked up thing he’s said, revenge for every time he’s come too hard at you during capture the flag, revenge for all of your siblings and everyone he’s ever tortured.

“Ok, there, that’s a good stance.” She’s raking her eyes up and down your body. But you’re here for revenge. She glanced over her shoulder. “Except for…”

She presses her body to yours from behind, molding against you like she was made to protect you like this, her hand covering yours, her stance just a little wider. She glides her hand across your arm.

“Up, up, just a little.” She’s whispering right into your ear. You let her hands guide you. Your mouth feels dry. “Then let go.”

And how badly you want to let go. You want to let go of these feelings rolling around in your stomach like stones, you want to let go and let them become butterflies and fall into Clarisse.

You prayed to your mother not to fall in love with her, but maybe you should trust your mom. Maybe you should let go.

But you don’t.

You let go of the arrow instead, you keep your tumbling feelings inside, and to your shock you only hit a few inches from the bullseye.

The bow swings in your hand.

“Holy shit. Did I- did I just do that?”

Clarisse laughs. “You did, baby.”

You turn around and throw your arms around her neck, smiling wide and laughing hysterically. The bow was the one weapon you thought you could never master, and here you are after one lesson with Clarisse.

She wraps her arms around your waist, and even though you’ve hugged like this a million times, you both know it’s different this time. And you both ignore it.

But for one second, you’re pretending so hard it’s almost real. It’s almost a real date.

—-

On the ninth day, it all goes to shit.

Sword practice is held just after lunch, when the sun is still high in the sky. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins share the field first, and you, Jackie and Tyla take your time stretching to enjoy the show.

Tyla has to turn around to hide her laugh as you bend over slowly, making sure Xavier is watching, then when you face comes up flushed you smile at him. He smiles back.

You wave to Clarisse and he glares at her.

Jackie says it will take him 5 minutes to ask her to spar. Tyla says 5 too. You say it’ll take him maybe 3 minutes.

He spars with one person, a two minute match, then marched right up to Clarisse.

“How about we go, huh? Want another chance to try and beat me?”

Clarisse was smiling before he walked over, talking to her friends. Her smile fades and is replaced by the dark mask of pure focus.

“I’d love to beat you, Xavier.”

She walks past you to grab a sword from the rack.

Her eyes meet yours. You reach out and put your hand on her face, softly pressing her lips against yours. It’s a peck. It’s barely there. At least now you can check off a box and say you’ve kissed Clarisse La Rue.

She seems so shocked that you’ve actually kissed her you swear she loses her footing for a second. You swear her cheeks are a little flushed. By she stands up taller and ignores it, just like you’ve both been doing for so long.

“Good luck, baby!” you call as she walks off to the circle marked off for sparring.

Xavier looks like he’s about to light the grass on fire.

“She’s gonna beat his ass,” Jackie whispers.

“If he loses, do you think I should comfort him after?”

“Oh, Gods, yes,” Tyla smiles. “That’s so mean. We’re so mean.” It feels too good to stop.

Kissing Clarisse almost felt too good to stop. Even that second, one more longer and you would have been sucked in. You decide not to kiss her for however long this goes on.

Once you start kissing her, you’re scared you’ll never stop.

Revenge feels to good, and you need this.

As soon as they face each other Xavier springs out with a million offensive attacks, slightly sloppy- you can see his anger. Everyone knows you can’t let your emotion get in the way of battle.

Clarisse is calm and counters all his attacks. She even smiles, which makes your stomach flip in a way that isn’t fake.

Her sword flicks along his cheek. It’s a paper cut, barely.

“Oh no,” Clarisse fake frets. “You need me to walk you to the nurse?”

He grunts and launches an attack that’s just plain stupid. It’s messy. He swings too wide. She knocks his sword out of his hand.

He goes to dive for it but her sword is already at his neck.

He breathes heavily, staring at her, and it’s suddenly dead quiet. No more talking, no more swords clanging.

Your eyes are flicking in between them like a ball bouncing up and down. But they linger on Clarisse. Of course they linger on Clarisse.

It’s so quiet you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“Daddy’s behind you,” he whispers.

She whips around, taking her sword with her, but no one is there. Of course no one is there.

Xavier runs away laughing, and Clarisse turns around. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s gripping the hand of the sword so tight you’re surprised it hasn’t broken off.

Clarisse is not your girlfriend. Clarisse is not even your friend.

But she’s someone, she’s someone to you, and you can’t stand to see her like this.

You walk forward and put your hand on her wrist, taking the sword from her. You’re not even in control of your arms and legs.

She stares pointedly at the distance.

“Let’s go,” you whisper, giving her no choice and pulling her along. You throw the sword at the rack.

���-

You end up in Clarisse’s cabin, door clicking shut behind you as you press your back to it. She stays silent for a moment, until she screams and throws someone’s pillow at the wall. You don’t say anything.

You don’t say anything but you follow her to her bed.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, watching as she sits down, fists clenched so tight you hope she isn’t bleeding. “I’m so sorry, Clarisse.”

“You weren’t the one who fell for it. You weren’t the one who fell for that stupid, stupid, childish trick. I did.”

“You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for us and our plan. If it wasn’t for me.”

You sit down on the bed next to hers.

“Why are you even here? We’re not actually dating, dummy. You can go.”

“I know,” you murmur. You know. You know you aren’t dating. You know you shouldn’t be here. “But you’re still something, Clarisse.”

She slips off her armor.

“I’m not something to you.”

She wants someone else to hurt like she does. She wants someone else to take the fall, to be embarrassed and the center of everyone’s attention so she doesn’t have to.

“I’ll never be something to you, Y/N, just- just go away. This is over, I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter. There’s something wet in your eyes and your throat tightens up. “That’s fine.”

You leave silently and you cry in the woods.

—-

When you finally make your way back to your cabin at nightfall, everyone is fussing around you. Your hair’s messy, mascara streams down your face, your shirt is wet with tears.

“Where have you been?” one of your brothers asks, and the rest of your siblings echo the sentiment.

Tyla doesn’t say anything when she sees you. She just wraps her arms around you. Jackie stands just behind her, eyes locking with yours. She knows. She doesn’t move. She can see it on your face, she can see it in your eyes.

Aphrodite children are predisposed to fall in love fast and hard. You’ve all gathered around your siblings time and time again when their hearts inevitably got broken.

No one wants to date an Aphrodite kid. Not really.

They all think you’re vain and self-centered. They all think you’re weak and useless.

When it comes down to it, that’s what you are.

How can you claim to wield the power of love when it brings you to your knees too?

You thought Clarisse was hot. You thought you could leave it at that. You thought you could pretend, you thought you could ignore it.

But the more you think about it, the more tears fall down your face, the more you realize you were ignoring the wrong thing. You spent so much time trying not to want Clarisse you forgot that she doesn’t even want you. It stings, like a knife in the chest, it hurts to know you’re making it all up.

But it was always pretend. It was always fake. That’s what fake dating is. The Aphrodite side of you just forgot that you couldn’t find comfort in her arms, you couldn’t memorize the feel of her skin, you couldn’t hear the sound of her heartbeat and pretended it beat for you.

You look up at the sky and you want to curse your mother. You want to know why she has abandoned you. But in your heart, you know she hasn’t abandoned you. The Goddess of Love is right next to you, and this is what it feels like.

Knives in your heart. Memories of heartbeats, memories of skin, memories of soft voices and secrets and the feeling that something was yours, something was quiet and shared.

“Y/N,” Jackie breathes.

The words hurt. You say them anyways.

“I fucked up,” you sob. “I fucked up, Jackie. She doesn’t- she won’t, she never will-”

“Y/N,” Tyla coos.

“I fell in love. I fell in love, and it’s over.”

—-

You give up on wearing makeup. The sadness still seeps through your face, and you end up crying most of it off anyways. A few of your hoodies are just permanently stained with mascara with how much you cried. The tears stream down your face and carry the little black specks with it.

You try to visualize everything you feel leaving with the black specks. The love, the anger, the sadness, the regret. But it doesn’t leave, and you’re too tired of trying to hide from it.

Everyone thinks you miserably broke up, and it’s mortifying to know that Clarisse knows you’re like this, she knows you’re absolutely ruined over this- and it was never even real.

You keep telling yourself that. It was fake. It was never real.

But it feels real, the memories feel real. You know they happened, you know Clarisse touched you so often it’s like you’re burned with it. You say she had to have felt it to, because the more you remember the more you remember the electricity, the charge in the air.

But you might just be making that up.

Lunch is the worst time. She’s always so happy at lunch, her and her table laughing loudly. She mentioned to you once, one of those fake star-studded dates in the woods, that she’s always to tired by dinner time because she trains so hard for most of the day.

You stare at her when no one’s looking, and everyone can see you better in the bright light of day- and you can’t look away.

Tyla mumbles that they’re gonna get up to make their offerings, she doesn’t ask if you’re gonna come. You’re probably not even going to eat more than a few bites again.

You’re alone at the stone table.

Xavier sees that as an opportunity.

Love spells are best to break on a full moon. You thought it would go on longer than this, and he’s only become more emboldened by what everyone sees as a breakup.

He sits down next to you, smiling sadly. You prop your head up in your hand.

“Y/N, you sad angel.” His hand grazes your shoulder, you can’t be bothered to tell him to stop. He places a flower in front of you. “To cheer you up.”

“Thanks, Xavier,” you mutter. He stares at you for a moment longer. Jackie comes back, slamming her tray down onto the table.

“Go away, Xavier,” she says, the same thing she says every day. Jackie has this look in her eyes that lets you know she’s ready to jump on you if she has to.

You think he would stop trying, but he can’t. He can’t because of this stupid love spell that ruined everything. And you can’t even take it off of him, not until the full moon.

You wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t for that love spell.

—-

There is one a day a year that Chiron turns a blind eye to parties. The summer solstice all of the cabin leaders come together to throw a huge party, mostly centered around the bonfire, food and drinks and even music. It’s the one night a year where you’re allowed to be teenagers, and it’s not taken lightly.

It even makes you feel a little excited.

“So what if all that shit happened?” Tyla asked. “We’re gonna make sure you look as hell at this party, and then you’re gonna go find someone and make out with them in a dark corner. Don’t even look who it is. Just grab the first random person and kiss them.”

“Okay, well, I’m not doing that, but I will do something of the sort. There is definitively some making out on my list tonight.”

“Oh, as long as it’s not with Xavier,” Tyla frets.

Jackie kicks her. “If Y/N makes out with Xavier, I will personally pay Chiron a million dollars to feed both of them to some horrible monster.”

“Supportive,” you muse.

Jackie gasps. “I forgot about this dress.”

“For which one of us?” Tyla asks.

Jackie turns around, holding up the back dress. It’s sparkly, a slit up the side, going just to your knees. It’s ruffled at the chest, thin spaghetti straps for the top. You can’t wear it. It’s too much, too revealing.

You look around the room.

Most of your siblings are wearing worse.

And you need to get your mind off her.

“I’m wearing that.”

Tyla squeals and Jackie lays it out on your bed.

You’ll forget about her tonight, you promise yourself.

—-

The bonfire burns high and bright, and even 20 feet away from it the feeling is burning. It’s so hot you’re glad you wore this barely there grass, it frees up your skin to touch the cool summer air.

You, Tyla and Jackie had gratefully taken a few too many sips of the alcohol someone had managed to sneak in and was now passing around.

Everything is so funny in the firelight.

Tyla’s tall heels keep sinking into the grass, and you keep giggling when your own do the same. You’re all holding onto each other, barely able to stand.

There was more nail polish fumes in the cabin than usual, and you’ll swear on your life that it gets to your head.

“Noooooo,” Tyla moans, sinking yet again into the grass. She gasps, pointing at the logs currently abandoned. “I’ll just walk on those!”

Your heels sink into the dirt.

“Me too,” you say, smiling as you grab Tyla’s hand and begin your ascent. Jackie ran off with an Apollo boy a minute ago, the first of your group to leave.

You grab onto each other, laughing boisterously as you keep almost falling.

“I-I can bare-barely stand!” you shout, giggling as you throw your arms to the sides.

“Me either!” Tyla shouts back. She jumps off, walking between the end of that one to the beginning of the next log.

“Hey, do you think I can jump and make it?”

Tyla judges the maybe 4 foot jump.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m gonna try,” you giggle. “I’m gonna jump!”

“Whoooo!” Tyla shouts, laughing too. This entire night is just about you and your friends and laughter. She starts clapping. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,”

You jump, eyes screwed shut, slamming into something mid air and being brought to the ground.

“Wh-” you mumble, and Tyla let’s out a gasp.

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Clarisse scolds, her hands quickly falling from your waist.

And, of course, the first instinct of your intoxicated brain is to start screaming.

Clarisse grabs your arm and drags you off, past the light of the fire and into a space between the cabins. She slaps her hand over your mouth and you shut up.

“Are you going to stop being such a baby now?”

She lets go of your face and you immediately stumble forward so she has to catch you, pressing your finger into her chest.

“You, demon, are not my mother! So, I don’t know what you’re doing.”

She laughs, holding you up.

“Oh, you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you correct. “As I was saying, don’t you remember, Clarisse, we will never be something to each other.” You push her away from you, heels sinking into the ground and keeping you upright.

Her face falls.

It’s so dark in here but you’re so close to her you can tell.

“Y/N, I-”

You can’t listen to her talk so softly. Being away from the heat of the fire clears up your brain.

“Where’s Tyla?” her hands fall from your hips. “Tyla?!” you dig you heels out of the mud, finding her sitting on the log, talking animatedly to Matty about something. “Oh,” you mumble.

They’re both so absorbed in each other they don’t hear you. And suddenly, you’re the last one left.

You head to a nearby table and chug a bottle of water, shoving a cupcake into your mouth.

“I’m not gonna be alone tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You look up at the almost full moon. You eyes scan the crowd. Xavier isn’t exactly bad looking, and you just need someone tonight. You need anything.

You don’t know where Clarisse is. You tell yourself you don’t care.

You move through the crowd, adjusting your hair, breathing in and out. You won’t be alone tonight. You won’t.

You spot him sitting off to the side with his friends, the group of them sharing a bottle just like you did.

“Xavier!” you shout. His eyes turn to you immediately. He shoves the bottle into his friends hands, standing up and walking over to you like it was his entire purpose to.

“Y/N,” he eyes you up and down. “You look- you look fucking hot.”

“Thank you. Now, dance with me.”

He follows you, his arm gripped in your hand, you can feel him staring at your ass and you don’t care, dragging him towards the music, towards the dance floor.

His hand is all over your ass, your thigh, your hips, drawing you closer to him as you spin and his other winds it’s way around your face.

He’s not her. You can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about imagining her hands on you.

You put your arms around his neck, dancing in a way that would probably make your mother blush.

When you open your eyes, they’re locked with hers.

She seems to have made her way back to her friends, sitting on a log, leaning against her arm and staring at you. Her hands are clenched the same way they were that day. You can see her, you can see her perfectly and she can see you perfectly. She can see you and him.

Good.

You smile at her, waving the way you would have done to Xavier, except now the roles are reversed. He gets to have you, and she has to watch.

His mouth finds your neck. You laugh, throwing your head back, you don’t imagine her lips there. You just sink into the moment.

When your lips crash against his, there’s nothing except hot, hot desire. Like a blue flame, you’re all teeth and tongue, clashing together in a way that is purely carnal.

His hands are everywhere and you love it. It’s like a game, trying to guess where he’ll go next, and it keeps you so wonderfully distracted.

He tugs at the slit of your dress. You pull away for air.

“N-not here. Not yet.”

His greedy hand remains where it is until you shove it down, laughing lightly.

“Maybe later,” you whisper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into your neck. “Just let me…” he spins you two around, his hand slips under your dress, against your bare ass.

“Xavier-” you push at his greedy hand again.

“So, so beautiful, like you’re a witch-”

He’s ripped away from you.

You watch in horror as Clarisse grabs him by the front of his shirt and punches him square in the face.

You start screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs.

Xavier only seems to find it funny.

“You fuckin’ jealous, Clarisse?” he laughs. “Fuckin’ jealous, wonder if he’d be proud of you now, beating up his own son for a daughter of Aphrodite?”

She punches him again. Again.

“Fuckin’ jealous?” he says again, laughing, spitting out blood. “Are you fucking jealous?”

One of her siblings finally grabs her and pulls her away. She shoves them off of her.

“I’ll kill you,” she whispers to him. He doesn’t seem scared at all. You stand there and watch, stupidly, feeling like a bird from the skies watching it all unfold, unable to do anything. “Stay away from her. Stay the fuck away from her.”

She looks at you, you faintly realize the music’s stopped.

“Clarisse-”

“She’s not yours!” Xavier laughs from the ground. “The weak Aphrodite girl doesn’t belong to you, that’s gotta sting, Clarisse-”

A love spell only change’s one’s emotions towards a person. Their personalities are the same. They way they behave under a love spell is the same way they’d behave in a regular relationship, except with a lasting relentlessness.

“Shut up, Xavier!” you shout. You’re so sick of him. Sick of his bullshit. He can’t even make out with you without thinking about the next step.

You see it fade from his eyes.

It shouldn’t be.

You watch in horror as the spell falls, you realize this all wasn’t supposed to happen. You were never supposed to actually kiss him.

“Witch,” he mumbles. He was just moaning that against your cheek a minute ago.

He holds his hands to his already red face.

“You’re a fucking witch.”

Everyone is looking at you, for once in your life, you hate it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” you whisper.

Your eyes meet Clarisse’s. You can’t tell what’s on her face. You walk away.

—-

She finds you under the stars. Of course she does. You didn’t know where else to go. Cabin too stuffy. The lake is too far. The only place left is the woods, the spots where you would go with her.

She stands behind you. You can hear her breathing.

“Do you need something?” you mutter.

“I was selfish,” she starts.

You snort. Clarisse La Rue is a lot of things, you’ll be here all night.

“And I was hurt. So I took it out on you, which I really, really regret. You didn’t deserve that and it wasn’t true.”

It wasn’t true.

“Um, I was scared. So I made a decision for the both of us. But I’m not scared anymore.”

You place your hand on the grass next to you.

She sits, you don’t look at each other.

“That was all I had planned, but more has happened, so… uh, I was watching you the entire night, I guess. Not in a creepy way. I mean, you look, that dress… I couldn’t take my eyes away. Then you almost killed yourself on the logs.”

You smile.

“And I touched you again and I just, it was so much. Then you were on the dance floor, and he was all over you and- I was jealous. I was so jealous, like, I was actually about to go insane. And I saw you push his hand away, I saw him do it again, and I…”

“Went insane, berserk, crazy? Lost all proprietary?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “All of that. I’m not gonna apologize for punching the shit out of him. But I am sorry for the things I said.”

“Did you mean it?”

She just seems grateful you’re talking to her.

“Mean what?”

“That it wasn’t true.”

“It wasn’t true.”

You finally look at her. It feels so good to let go. To finally look at her, finally see her.

“I-I was just angry, and I-”

You’re sick of hearing her talk.

It’s nothing like the kiss with Xavier.

Its slow and sweet, heady like syrup, and you feel like you’re sinking beneath the current of some river. Your hands are on her face, she rests hers on your neck.

The kiss was Xavier was pure passion, no love, just bodies and bodies and no thoughts between them. This is all care, this is all slowness, this is all appreciation. It’s faces and faces, singular focus, one intent.

You pull away.

“I was so jealous,” she breathes, like it’s an explanation for the way she grabs you closer, harder, more, kissing you like Xavier did except it’s all erased. You can’t even remember what it feels like for someone else to touch you, let alone kiss you.

It just feels like her. It all feels like her, before her and after her.

When she finally starts to kiss down your neck, it’s so slow again, it’s like she can’t believe you’re in her arms, it’s like she can’t believe she’s got your hands on you. You grab her shoulders, you have her.

You look up towards the sky. Sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks, Mom.

You could see her across from you, you could see her on the dance floor, but now you can see her.

—-

y/n, talking to matty: yes i’m like about to slay amokinesis in a way it has never been slayed before

clarisse, who is NOT catching feelings: what the hell is this bitch doing to my girl

clarisse: ykw… im just gonna…. take her back thank you oh wdym no he’s looking we gotta fake date obvi (clarisse does not care if he’s looking)

—-

y/n, about to fucking die: i’m a bird! i’m jumping!

clarisse: no the fuck you’re not!

—-

clarisse when y/n is dancing in THE DRESS: oh i’m bricked up

—-

clarisse: if this bitch doesn’t get OFF my girl i’m gonna KILL SOMEONE

literally everyone: YOUR girl????

clarisse: nvm i’m just gonna fight him

everyone: not a logical solution???

—-

shoutout to jackie, tyla, and matty the loves of my life COULD NOT DO THIS WITHOUT THEM

also the tyla and matty agenda WILL be pushed

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison

[reidsaurora]

hil! so im a little nervous to send this in and confused how exactly to request but im gonna try anyway

the summer celebration and the banner is so cute! could i please request for you to write a "Malibu Dream House - domestic!au" with Reid and fem!reader? Spencer and reader are expecting (unless you're uncomfy with pregnancy, then they can just be a couple that's moving) and relocating, buying a home together. and the team comes over for a house warming party during well obviously the summer! just like cute fluffy dynamics between everyone. Rossi is protecting the bbq like it’s his baby and ofc Ms. Penelope Garcia is excited at the possibilities of the couple’s future

i hope this isn’t too boring a request, and of course no pressure to write this, i just hope you’re having a good day and hope summer treats you well 🩵

hi, lovey! sorry this took so long! as usual, i don't have an excuse alshalsjsksh 💀 hope u enjoy though!

"With A Little Help From Our Friends" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Reader is feeling apprehensive about the end of her pregnancy, Spencer reminds her that really all you need is a little help from your friends.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1,846

Content Warning: pregnancy stuff, a little sexual humor at the end, food talk, small mention of a gun (this is CM after all), lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: it definitely didn't take me three different attempts to write something without scrapping it...

Originally Written: 07/23/2024 through 07/27/2024

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (love u my editor 4 life)

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

Summer Celebration can be found here!

Malibu Dream House - domestic!au

Crashing Waves - angst requests -> Sun Kissed - fluff requests

To say the last couple months had been busy would've been an understatement.

Sure, when you and Spencer first saw that little blue plus sign, you went into full-blown parent mode. It started with some baby clothes, then some bottles, then the crib… But, entering the last trimester of your pregnancy, that's when things started to get real.

In the process of getting ready, you'd acquired enough things for a potential army of babies, making Spencer's apartment—originally intended for one resident—feel even tinier than the baby you were soon to birth. So what was Spencer's genius solution? Move into a new house, because he simply couldn't get rid of his baby's things before she'd even arrived.

And that was how you found yourselves heavily pregnant and moving into your new three-bedroom Cape Cod in the quiet town of Cabin John, Maryland. Perhaps you should've found somewhere that wouldn't require waiting until your eighth month of pregnancy to move in, but with its charming blue-and-white exterior and flower boxes on nearly every window, it was hard to say no to the place.

The last week had been spent moving everything in, not much thanks to you but thanks to your friends/colleagues of the BAU. Pretty much everyone had been in and out of your home over the week, but Spencer still insisted that the two of you should throw a housewarming party, and who were you to say no to that cute smile and big brown eyes? You only hoped your daughter wouldn't inherit them, or else you might just take that two letter word out of your vocabulary altogether.

Now you were here, in the kitchen supply aisle of the grocery store, contemplating what paper plates to use for the party.

“I really don't think anyone's going to care about the design, love,” Spencer attempted to reassure you. “Just so long as they aren't flimsy.”

Your pregnancy brain was basically ignoring him at this point though. “What if I buy the wrong ones and they think they're ugly?”

Spencer pouted, though he placed a supportive hand on your back. “How long have you known my colleagues? And how many times has someone said something mean about something so miniscule?”

“There was that one time Rossi said he didn't like that flower arrangement I put on the coffee table.”

“In his defense, he said they were the same colors that his second wife had at their wedding,” he explained, then chuckled. “He was probably just having some PTSD.”

Eventually, after a few more minutes of contemplation, you decided on the basic white ones, Spencer reassuring you all the while that they were perfect. Then, it was onto cutlery, which was just another thing for your brain to pick apart. You knew it was silly, truly, but you just couldn't get yourself out of your own head about even the most miniscule things.

On top of that, it seemed as though your husband hadn't missed your shift in behavior. Sometimes it sucked that he read people for a living.

“Honey,” he started, his tone sounding oddly like the word he'd just said, “are you sure this is about paper plates and plastic forks?”

Normally, you'd be able to put up a fight with your brain, push down the thoughts and explain later in the comfort of your home. But pregnant you was much different than regular you, and it only took that one question to have you tearing up.

You leaned into his shoulder, hoping to suppress the sounds of your cries. “What if I make all the wrong choices and the baby hates me?”

His lips met the crown of your head for a gentle kiss, followed by a soft sigh. “I promise she'll love you. You're going to be the most wonderful mother any little girl could ask for.”

“But what if I buy her the wrong diapers and she yells at me?”

Spencer gave you that signature pout, and a small swarm of butterflies set off in your belly. “I doubt she'll be that picky over them, but if she is, we just buy her new ones and make it better.”

You couldn't help but snicker through your tears. “I feel like that's awful advice, but I think I get what you mean.”

“C'mere,” he mumbled, pulling you in as closely as possible. Your bump had made it hard for hugs to happen, but that definitely didn't stop your husband from trying. “You're going to make a mistake or two. It's in our nature. I will most likely make a lot more than one or two mistakes-”

“Not true. You're gonna be the best dad in history.”

“And you will be the best mom in history. It's going to be a learning curve for all three of us. But, when they say ‘it takes a village,’ at least we know we have our village. JJ will be there to help with all your new mom questions and Hotch will be there to help me build her first treehouse. Kate will be there when she starts playing with makeup and we start to feel old.”

You giggled into his shoulder, earning you a small smile. “Penny will be there just to spoil her.”

“Emily will be there just to teach her how to flip someone off,” he snickered, the sound vibrating against your skin. Then, he was pulling you up for a long but sweet kiss, the taste of his morning coffee taking over your senses. “We've got this. You've got this.”

And instantly, you were feeling better. You knew Spencer knew magic, but sometimes you swore he was a wizard with the way he could change things just by saying one thing.

—

The second you pulled into the driveway, your heart sank to your stomach.

“Spence, why is the gate open?” You only hoped he had a reasonable explanation.

Unfortunately, his answer was not at all what you were hoping to hear. “I'm not sure. I don't think I left it open.”

Abandoning your party supplies in the car, the two of you headed toward the gate, Spencer insisting you and the baby stay behind him. As an FBI agent, he knew never to go anywhere without a gun, so luckily he at least had some way to protect you and himself if it came to that.

With one hand, he pushed open the cracked gate, the other lingering near his firearm just in case. The two of you quietly and slowly made your way into the backyard. Your heart was beating so hard against your chest, it felt like it would jump right out of your ribcage. Spencer managed to remain his normal, calm self, but you couldn't say the same.

And then, just as you rounded the corner: “SURPRISE!”

Both you and Spencer nearly jumped out of your skin at the screams, though you both quickly realized what was going on.

Pink and white balloon arrangements, one table filled to the brim with gifts and another covered with various snack trays and drinks. If it wasn't clear this was a baby shower, the sea of people in pink outfits would've been the giveaway.

Penelope was first to greet you, her pink sundress bouncing as she practically ran to meet you. “You don't understand how hard it was to keep this from you,” she said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears.

Your arms flew around her neck, and hers wrapped around what they could of your stomach. “What is all this?” Now you were on the verge of tears with her.

“Papa Rossi wanted to throw you guys a shower and of course we had to surprise you.”

You let go of Penelope and turned to Rossi, wearing his normal attire, except for his normal white button-down had been replaced with a pink one. “Dave, you old softie!”

His arms wrapped around your neck for a small hug, and he left a peck to each of your cheeks. “I love you, kid, but don't call me old.”

You laughed as he let go, and immediately he walked over to the grill, like that was where he belonged. Then, you and Spencer were off to make the rounds.

Spencer wore the biggest smile you'd ever seen, aside from the one he had when you'd first shown him the pregnancy test. Even though you'd been with Spencer for nearly a decade, you still felt butterflies and goosebumps when he smiled, when he laughed, when he called you ‘love’.

“He's gonna be the best,” Penelope said, her eyes following yours.

You smiled before turning back to her. “Yeah, he really will.”

Just then, Luke and Spencer headed your way, Spencer moving to stand behind you. Immediately, you leaned into him, and he took your belly in his hands, relieving some of the pressure there. “Why were you staring?” he teased in your ear.

“I just think you're pretty,” you giggled, the sound like music to your husband's ears.

Luke snickered at the interaction, though he tossed an arm around his girl, giving Penny a quick kiss on the head. “By the way, you guys should have babies more often. This woman has been cooking enough to feed an army. She left like ten casseroles in the fridge for you guys.”

“Penelope,” Spencer gave her a soft look of something close to disapproval, though you knew he didn't mean it. “You didn't have to do that.”

“You and Mama are gonna need something to eat, and I know you guys are not going to feel like cooking after being up with a newborn all night.”

And it was time for another hug, the tears from earlier actually falling this time. You weren't sure what it was about pregnancy, but you'd realized it had made you awfully touchy. But you didn't care, especially today, when you were in the arms of some of your best friends.

“Hey, Penny,” Luke said as he watched the encounter, a tone of slyness to his words. “Maybe we should hop on the train next. Then you'll have a reason to make that breakfast casserole more often.”

She pulled away from the hug before turning to her boyfriend with probably the most serious look you'd ever seen her wear. “Luke Santiago Alvez, if you bring your man-juices anywhere near me, I will rip off your thingy and then feed it to you.”

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped your lips. Then, you turned to Spencer, who was just confused. “Did she just call it a thingy?”

“Did she just say man-juices?” His sentence elicited giggles from all four of you.

It was then that “With A Little Help From My Friends” by The Beatles started to play on the speaker, no doubt having been taken over by Hotch. But as the song played, you couldn't help but notice the sea of people all here for your baby. Sure, you were terrified. But you knew you'd get through it: with just a bit of help from your friends.

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @mmmeademaaa @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @soapiebear @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @juismissing @captainchris-pike @therealrazortai

[bellysoupset]

heeeyyyy back at it again with me requesting my girl lollll <3 (only bc you asked for requests!!! (i’ve been dying to request sth but didn’t wanna be annoying))

soo i’ve been craving some wen/jon for a bit bc ofc i have💀 SO I WAS THINKING!! (this is so specific and long im so sorry) what if wen starts to get sick at work and jon gets worried and annoys her into leaving work early. and so he takes her home but then on his way home he starts feeling bleh too and kinda just falls asleep when he gets back. BUT THEN wen gets worse and in the middle of the night calls jon bc she’s like super sick and out of it and feverish and alone, but bc jon is also pretty sick, it just ends up being leo taking care of both of them <333 the more angsty the better ofc but also no worries if it’s not ♥️

no pressure at all to write this bc i know it’s pretty detailed and idk if you’d like this prompt? but i just thought i’d ask heheheheh <3333

(on a completely different short note,, vin+wen are so adorable with max aahhhh i was blushing throughout that whole cabin trip fic🤭🥹)

as always, KEEP SLAYING!!!!

- 🦦

Otter!! You're back! How are you, honey?

Loved the request 💕TW: there's some fatphobia talk towards the middle, Wendy about herself (triggered by the fever).

----

As lunch arrived, Wendy knew something wasn't right.

Many things weren't right, to be more specific. Bell and Luke were occupying the back of her thoughts, as she carried the secret, and then there was the fact Vince and Luke didn't seem to be talking, again, and well... Wendy felt silly for being so drained over problems that weren't truly hers, but she was.

Jonah, on the other hand, seemed to be on cloud nine lately. Oblivious to the outside world, he couldn't smile more if he tried and Wendy had overheard the nurses giggling about the doctor being in such a good mood.

Through some stroke of a miracle her schedule was coinciding with Jon's this week and they sat together in the cafeteria, Jonah having lunch before he left and her halfway through her shift. He pulled his chair to be side by side with hers and scrolled through his phone as he showed her several pictures of the venues he was considering.

She couldn't look at her plate, revulsion swimming in her belly, and Wendy pushed the dish away, grabbing her juice bottle and leaning back against her seat.

"That's a gorgeous place," she said, as Jonah scrolled past a picture of a whimsical fairytale venue. He scrolled back up and raised his eyebrows as if agreeing.

"Pretty, but not really our speed," he zoomed in the picture, "we're not the fairytale type."

"Uhm..." Wendy pinched her nose bridge and moved closer on her seat, so she could press her cheek to Jonah's shoulder. He raised a surprised eyebrow at the touch, but didn't say anything, "I guess. You're looking at more of a sleek vibe?"

"Yes, classical, but modern..." Jonah saved the item anyway and when Wen made a puzzled expression, he opened a sneaky smile, "for when it's your turn."

She rolled her eyes, without any energy even to blush at the implication, "not any time soon," Wendy planted her elbow on the table and gulped down as the smell of food assaulted her. She pulled back, breathing slowly out of her mouth and when she opened her eyes again, Jonah had pocketed his phone and was staring at her openly.

"You're sick," he accused, squinting, and Wendy shook her head.

"No, I'm not," convincing enough, Wendy mentally patted herself on the back, "just a long week-" it had been, Jonah couldn't deny that...

He rolled his eyes, "uh-hu," Jon scoffed, reaching without hesitation and planting his hand to her forehead. Wendy jumped back, spooked, but it had been enough for him, "and did your long week give you a fever, Dee?"

Wendy's cheeks flushed, but she also couldn't help the squeeze in her heart at the nickname. Whenever Jonah called her that, she melted. She let out a sigh, "I have three more hours to go, I can power through-"

"Darling, no," Jonah scoffed, getting up and gesturing for her to do the same, "you don't just have a fever, you're clearly queasy too and you don't wanna be stranded in the doctor's headquarters when that hits in full force... C'mon, I'll drive you home."

Wendy hesitated, chewing on her lip, but Jon only rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm, ushering her up, "no point arguing, Wen," he scolded her, pushing her forward.

The change of positions caused her head to swim and Wendy stumbled, pressing herself against his arm and taking a shallow breath, "Oh crap... Yeah, get me out of here," she pinched her nose bridge and squeezed her eyes until the world came back into focus.

Jonah followed her like a shadow as she clocked out early and requested a replacement. His own shift was already over and he seemed unbothered by the bureaucratic process that was a doctor leaving early, scrolling through his phone and occasionally looking up as Wendy stumbled over her own feet.

Finally they were in his car and Wendy pressed her forehead to the cold window, letting out a soft burp under her breath as Jon circled the vehicle. There was a ding-ding-ding over her head as the driver's door opened and closed, then Jon's hand was on her back, "Dee?"

Wendy swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth and leaned back on the seat, "I'm okay..." she turned her head to look at him, everything felt horrible and sluggish, "are... Are you okay?" now she frowned, even through the fever haze able to pinpoint something was off with her best friend.

Usually, Jonah's skin was a russet, reddish-brown, but when he got pale all the warmth seemed to be depleted, an ashy tone taking its place. Besides that, his lips seemed to melt into his skin, despite normally being a dark shade of earthy-pink.

"I'm fine," he started the car and Wendy squinted at him, the motion doing nothing to ease her nausea. She muffled another little burp on her hand, blushing and mumbling a weak "excuse me..."

Jonah waved her off and Wendy squirmed on her seat, "you're not feeling well either, are you?"

"I'm fine," he repeated, stealing a glance at her, "you're gonna make yourself sicker in this position, seat correctly and put on your seatbelt."

"Yes, dad," Wendy rolled her eyes, but obeyed and closed her eyes, leaning back her head. Her stomach was churning uncomfortably, the small amount she had been able to eat at lunch sloshing around and causing a burn on the back of her throat. She planted a hand on her belly, rubbing it lightly, and blushed even more at the thought of how gross she probably looked...

The car came to a slow stop and she felt the back of Jonah's hand pressed to her cheek, "you're really warm, Wendy," he said, his voice sounding frustrated, "were you feeling sick since morning?"

"Were you?" She grumbled, then cupped a hand over her lips as the little line caused more acid to trickle her throat and a weak gag. The car started moving again.

"I'm not sick," Jonah scoffed, in denial. Wendy let out a huff, if she had puked already he could pass it off as sympathy sickness but as it stood... She opened her eyes, looking at him. There was a glint of perspiration all over his face and Jonah had a grimace on, not counting on her studying him.

The idiot.

Turning her head had been a bad idea, because it caused a wave of carsickness to hit her and Wendy felt sticky all over. She closed her eyes again, breathing out slowly and gulped down... The act of swallowing caused another gag and she vaguely heard Jonah cursing-

The car came to a second stop and Wendy opened her eyes just as Jon leaned over her, pushing her door open. Wendy leaned out and the seatbelt squeezed her in the middle like a rope, around her neck and tickling her gag reflex.

She let out a sob as her lunch made a nasty reappearance in one chunky splash on the asphalt. Wendy coughed, trying to clear her throat and reached blindly to get rid of the seatbelt, only for a pair of hands to aid her.

Her belly clenched again and Wendy had barely any time to push her hair out of the way before another stream came up, more liquid this time around and burning her throat.

She sniffled, pitifully, ears unblocking as the retching tapered off, and she was left gasping for air and trying to spit out the horrible taste.

"Here," Jonah's voice was very soft as he pushed a bottle of lukewarm water in her hands, "swish it around," he instructed and Wendy obeyed, spitting out the stale water and coughing once more before sitting back.

Jon pushed her hair behind her ears and Wendy sniffled, angrily trying to get rid of the tears clinging to her lashes. She hated throwing up, not only the horrible sensation, but how vulnerable and disgusting it made her feel. Clearly Jon could read it all on her face, because despite the fact his own pallor had moved straight into corpse-grey territory, he cupped her cheeks and offered her a strained smile, "you're okay," he stroked her cheek with his thumbs, "take a breath, darling."

It was so soft and Wendy was feeling so incredibly wretched, that all the gentleness had the opposite of the desired effect, causing another sob to bubble up and tears to well in her eyes, "I don't feel well..."

"I know, I know," Jonah frowned at her, all but mounting the handbrake as he pulled her into a hug, "I know, Dee. Shhh-"

She clung to his sweater, curling up on the passenger seat and trying to burrow her face in the crook of Jonah's arm, crying in the awkward hug that was more of a headlock. Jon made a wounded noise, but didn't pull back, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

It took her a handful of minutes before the tears stopped and Wendy pulled back from the embrace, wiping at her face. Her head was throbbing now from crying and her eyes hurt, like she had accidentally spilled shampoo in them and done a poor job of washing it off. Jon was watching her closely, "Wen?"

"I'm sorry-" Her voice sounded like she had just gargled with glass, "sorry... Can we go?"

He nodded, before pausing and lowering his forehead to the steering wheel, raising his index as if asking her to stand-by. Wendy raised her eyebrows, planting a hand on his back, "Jon..." She cooed, "sweetheart, you're not well..."

Which was bad, considering he was the one driving.

Jonah didn't bother denying this time around, instead he just squeezed his eyes shut, taking a measured breath, "just a little dizzy..."

"Is it a vertigo episode?" Wendy asked, continuing to rub her hand up and down his back.

He frowned, not opening his eyes, "no... Just give me a minute, Dee."

Understanding he wanted silence, Wendy clammed her mouth shut and focused on getting a hold of herself. Throwing up hadn't made even a dent on her nausea and she still felt like her stomach was filled with liquid, but at least her mouth wasn't watering like crazy anymore. She was freezing, which made sense considering the car door was open and it was January...

Wendy slammed it shut, shuddering, and Jonah startled, sitting back up. As he moved, he let out a large burp, hand moving up to muffle it, but being a second too late. He wrinkled his nose, cheeks turning dark with a blush, "sorry..." his voice was all distorted, deep in his chest and Wendy shrugged.

"It's fine," she rubbed his arm, "you feel better?"

It was clear that he didn't, but Jonah grit his teeth and nodded, "yeah. Let's get you home."

--------------------

Jonah wasn't sure what had hit him. In one minute he had been waiting for Wendy to clock out of work, texting Leo that he'd be taking her home so probably not have the full afternoon free like he had planned, and in the other there was cold sipping down to his fucking bones.

The speed at which his condition had deteriorated had been alarming, but not as much as seeing his best friend bawl her eyes out. Wendy was a crier when it came to movies, but not when it was her life. It made his stomach squeeze into a horrible knot as she clutched his arm and sobbed like a little kid.

Her cheeks were a blazing red and her green eyes were droopy with fever by the time he parked in her garage, taking her spot. Wendy swayed dangerously on her feet as she got out and Jonah circled the car, wrapping his arm around her back, "we're almost there," he promised, squeezing her and fighting the urge to rattle her like a toy. It was awful to see her this down for the count.

Wendy leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his chest and gulping down loudly as they entered the elevator, "my stomach... I'm going to be sick, Jon..." she groaned and Jonah's own stomach churned at the warning. He couldn't even fathom the possibility of dealing with vomit when his lunch was sitting like a brick inside.

"We're almost in your apartment," he soothed her, pressing the 6th button twice more, just out of anxiety. Wendy let out a little burp, sickly wet, and gulped down, not saying a thing. She didn't even excuse herself, which was wildly out of character.

Jonah counted the seconds, looking up and gulping the sticky sensation in his mouth. It felt like his tongue was too big for it and he felt the urge to open his jaw and breath through his mouth like those dogs, but he knew this was only going to make him gag. His body luring him into a trap.

Wendy let out a groan, wrapping an arm around her stomach and sniffling, "Jon..."

"Almost there," he repeated, leg bouncing nervously, "try to hold it..." he bossed, before adding a weak, "I'm sorry."

Wendy gulped down again, pressing a hand to her mouth and shuddering violently, whole spine curling as she retched, but it was non-productive.

The elevator came to a stop and immediately Jonah was jumping ahead, grabbing the emergency keys that he had and unlocking the door as Wendy sprinted under his arm.

She rushed into the powder room and he heard the distinctive noise of her heaving, but Jonah couldn't bring his own feet to move. He pressed his forehead to the front door, shutting it with his weight and breathed slowly through his mouth. His stomach let out a nasty gurgle and Jon wrapped an arm around it, waiting until the cramp eased up.

Down the hall he heard a crash and Jonah sprung into action, the gnawing sensation in his stomach be damned. Wendy had collapsed down in front of the toilet, but she had tried to get up and put too much of her weight on the towel holder, causing the whole thing to collapse.

She was curled up on the ground, with the towel crumped next to her, a cut on her knee and through her lilac pants and the metal structure hanging by one handle on the wall.

"Wendy," Jonah couldn't help but let out a surprised chuckle at the image, although his smile faded as she heard her sniffle.

"I'm horrible," it was the fever speaking, he knew, but it didn't stop Jonah from feeling a pang in his chest as she sat there with a bruised knee and trying really hard not to start crying again, "I'm a whale, I broke the stupid thing-"

"Oh Wendy, shush it," Jonah scoffed, crouching down and avoiding looking at the toilet, closing the lid and gulping down, "that thing was a piece of crap, stop with this nonsense," he scolded her sharply, rolling up her pants and cringing at the purple bruise already forming.

Wendy let out a whimper, curling up against her bathtub and angrily wiping the tears on the corner of her eyes, "I wanna go to bed..." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, groaning softly as she rocked back and forth, "Jon..."

"Are you gonna be sick again?" He asked, moving closer to her and reaching to uncurl her from the position. Wendy hesitated, whole face wrinkling up with a grimace.

"I'm not sure..." She gulped down, "my stomach feels awful..."

"Okay," Jonah knew, deep down, that moving her was a bad idea, but he couldn't deny her anything when she looked this pitiful, "okay, c'mere-" he wrapped an arm behind her back, helping her up and the minute he did, Wendy lunged for the toilet once more, throwing the lid open hastily as she barely had any time before bringing up another wave of vomit.

It splattered all over the seat and Jonah was forced to let go of her as his lunch immediately rushed up, causing him to throw himself onto the sink. He covered his ears with his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as the foamy vomit fell into the bowl and his stomach convulsed several times.

Behind him, even with his ears covered, he heard the loud noise of flushing and Wendy coughing several times. Jonah let out a sick burp, panting and spitting the ropes of saliva still pooling in his mouth, "I'm-I'msssorry..." he slurred, feeling like the worst friend ever. He had taken Wendy home and now there he was being an even bigger burden.

Wendy answered him with a groan, pushing the lid closed once again and stumbling up, using his belt as support. She clumsily planted a hand on his back, patting completely out of rhythm, "are you good...?"

Jonah nodded, burping under his breath twice more and taking a drink from the tap, washing the bowl with his eyes closed before daring to open them, "yeah..." he met her eyes on the mirror, green and drowsy, "I'm good... Let's get you into bed."

Together they stumbled down the hall almost like drunks and Wendy immediately collapsed on the bed, kicking off her shoes and burying her face on the pillow. Jonah stood, awkwardly, next to her bed. In some recess of his mind he knew there were things he should be doing. Water, thermometer. Bucket.

However, his body felt so heavy and he was struggling to think through the fever — Wendy's fingers wrapped around his wrist and she tugged, hard, on his arm, pulling him down. There wasn't a bone in his body to fight it and Jonah immediately collapsed down, barely avoiding crushing her with his body.

Her pillow was cool and soft and he let out a groan, rolling on the bed and breathing out. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning once more, nausea starting to prickle him all over. Wendy pushed her back against his arm and Jonah forced his eyes open, staring at the side of her face. The redness coloring her cheeks was down her neck and exposed chest, like angry marks.

"Wendy...?"

"Uhm?" Wendy's eyes were closed and she was taking deep breaths, facing up the ceiling. Jonah scooted closer, feeling like he was freezing and seeking out her warmth.

"Are you leaving...?" He rasped out, staring intently at her. Wendy frowned, opening her eyes.

"Are you kicking me out my own bed...?"

"What?" Jonah blinked at her, flabbergasted, struggling to understand, "no, I- No! Are you leaving to Doveport?" he asked, then raised a hand to interrupt her answer, turning his face and muffling a sick burp against the pillow. Acid tickled his throat and he gagged, but it was unproductive.

Jonah moved his face away from the pillow, wiping the drool from his lips and Wendy was staring at him, unimpressed, her lids heavy with exhaustion, "I think I should call Leo," she whispered, her voice weak and Jon frowned at her.

"Why? Does Leo know...?"

"You're delirious," she groaned, pushing herself up, "you're not making any- Any sense..." Wendy shivered violently, eyes scanning the room for her phone, although her purse had been dropped by the front door.

Jonah grabbed her hand, stopping her from getting up from the bed, "so no? You're not leaving?" he pulled her down once again and Wendy frowned, pressing her hand to his cheek, trying to check his fever, although it was nearly impossible considering how warm she was.

"No, I'm not leaving-" she cupped his forehead, "you don't feel that warm..."

Jonah grumbled something, closing his eyes and reaching blindly, wrapping his hand on her shoulder and tugging her down on the bed, so he could hide his face against her neck, "you need to rest-" he rasped out and Wendy squirmed under him, but not trying to pull away. Instead, she wrapped herself around him and Jonah grimaced as he felt her arm wrap around his middle, his stomach sloshing at the movement.

Wendy let out a deep sigh, muffling a cough against his chest and he decided he could deal with everything in a moment, he just needed to rest his eyes for a minute.

TBC

[aller-geez]

I’ll Be Home For Christmas

What’s this? Geezie actually has a CHRISTMAS FIC written ON CHRISTMAS? This is unheard of 🤓

A little more than 4k words, Ofc it’s more Remi torture, based on this prompt~

***side note, the place mentioned that Remi is going back home to, (Anseyn), is part of the universe that I’ve been building for the past few months called Hiraeth, and I’ll eventually get around to posting more about it, but for now, that’s all you get 😬 pls enjoy, and happy Honda days 🖤🖤🖤

The call came on a dreary evening, the sky outside dim and gray as snowflakes drifted lazily to the ground. Remi was propped up in a too-small hotel bed, his long legs stretched awkwardly over the edge, and his head tilted against the lumpy pillow. His radioactively green eyes, normally sharp and bright, were dulled by exhaustion and fever. The tissues scattered around him, damp and crumpled, told the full story of his misery.

Levi’s concerned voice came through the phone. “Remi, I’m serious. You sound awful. Just stay there and rest, okay? I don’t want you making yourself worse trying to get back for Christmas.”

Remi sniffled thickly, his nose so clogged it made breathing a chore. His voice, hoarse and painfully congested, broke as he tried to argue. “I’b fide,” he croaked, though he clearly wasn’t. “I cad bake id. Id’s Christbas, Levi. I bissed you.”

“You don’t sound fine, Remi,” Levi said gently. “It’s a nine-hour flight. Then a layover. Then another four-hour flight. Then three hours of driving. Please, just—”

“I’m cobig,” Remi interrupted stubbornly, coughing harshly into the crook of his arm. It was a wet, rattling sound that made even him wince. “Dod’t try to talk be out of id. I’ll be hobe by Christmas.”

Levi sighed on the other end of the line. “Alright,” he relented, though his tone was laden with worry. “But promise me you’ll be careful. I’ll have everything ready for you when you get here.”

That night was restless.

Remi tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed, trying desperately to find a position where his head didn’t throb and his sinuses didn’t feel like they were filled with cement. Every time he managed to drift off, his stuffy nose betrayed him, forcing out a loud snort or whistle that woke him with a start. His fever left him both shivering under the blankets and drenched in sweat, unable to get comfortable for more than a few minutes.

By the time his alarm blared at 4:30 a.m., signaling the start of his long journey home, Remi was already wide awake—if "awake" could describe his feverish, half-lucid state.

The airport was a blur of noise and fluorescent lights. Remi’s black shaggy hair was damp with sweat as he lugged his carry-on through security, his broad shoulders hunched as he fought the chills wracking his frame. His nose was an unrelenting source of misery, dripping constantly despite the tissues he clutched in one hand. He’d blown through half the box already and hadn’t even boarded his flight yet.

“Boarding for Flight 4287 to Anseyn,” the loudspeaker announced.

Remi shuffled toward the gate, ignoring the curious looks from other passengers as he sniffled and coughed his way onto the plane.

---

The first flight was unbearable.

Wedged into an economy-class seat with barely enough legroom for his tall frame, Remi could feel the pressure building in his sinuses almost as soon as the plane took off. His ears popped painfully, making his already aching head feel like it might explode.

He tried to sleep, leaning his head against the cold plastic of the window, but the cabin air was so dry that every inhale burned his throat. Whenever he did manage to doze off, he’d wake himself with stuffy snorts and gurgles, his congestion making his breathing impossibly loud.

“Hhh… Hdt’ISHHhh! hh—IhhTSSCHhh’iew! Hhh’TSSSHhhhuuuh!”

The sneezes came out of nowhere, loud and uncontrollable, and he barely managed to muffle them into his sleeve. He caught the wary glances of the passengers around him but was too miserable to care.

By the time they landed, nine hours later, Remi felt like he’d been hit by a truck. His chest had grown tight, a wet, rattling cough settling in, and the chills were worse than ever. He stumbled into the airport, his legs weak beneath him, and made his way to his connecting flight during a bleary, hour-long layover.

---

The second flight wasn’t much better.

Remi’s lap was overflowing with used tissues, his nose so stuffed and runny that it felt like a lost cause to try keeping up. The takeoff and landing made his sinuses throb, the pressure sending shooting pains through his head and ears.

“Hhh… hhh’IISHHhh! hh'IETSH’UE! HI’DTSCHIEW! Hh—IITSCHHH’iew!”

His sneezes were so wet and obvious that the passengers nearest him did their best to lean away, but Remi was too miserable to care about the judgment. He sniffled thickly, his glowing green eyes half-lidded and glassy as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep.

When the plane finally landed, Remi staggered into the terminal, his entire body aching. The dark winter sky outside mirrored how he felt inside: exhausted, freezing, and utterly drained.

---

The drive home was a nightmare.

The wind howled across the frozen parking lot, biting into Remi’s fevered skin as he shuffled toward his car. Each step felt heavy, his limbs aching as if he were wading through snowdrifts instead of walking across slick asphalt. His breath puffed visibly in the freezing air, mingling with the occasional wet, rattling cough that erupted from his chest. Each cough sent a sharp pain lancing through his ribs, making him wince and hunch forward.

By the time he reached the car, his nose was dripping uncontrollably, and his hands were trembling from the cold and his fever. He fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them twice before managing to unlock the door and collapse into the driver’s seat. The cold leather sent a shiver racing up his spine, and he groaned as he adjusted his long legs awkwardly to fit into the cramped space.

Then, the tickle in his nose surged. His nostrils flared, his glowing green eyes fluttering shut as his breath hitched uncontrollably.

“Hhh… hh—IISSHhh! Hhh—IhhTSSCHhh’uhhh!”

The sneezes burst out of him with no time to reach for a tissue, spraying the steering wheel. He groaned hoarsely, grabbing a crumpled tissue from his coat pocket to mop up the mess. “This was a bad idea,” he muttered, his voice thick and congested, barely audible. His glowing eyes were dim and glassy, his entire body screaming at him to rest. But Christmas was waiting, and so was Levi.

---

The snowstorm made the roads a treacherous, winding labyrinth of ice and slush. The wind whipped against the car, rattling the windows and obscuring the already poor visibility. Remi gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white against the leather as he squinted through the flurry of snowflakes.

Every few minutes, his breath would hitch again, and he’d fumble for a tissue to catch another forceful sneeze.

“Hhh—IISSHhh’iew! Hhh’TSSCHhhhuuh!”

Each one made his head throb and his chest ache, leaving him gasping for air and sniffling miserably.

His body was so worn down that it took all his focus to stay awake. The heater blew weakly, barely cutting through the chill that seemed to seep into his very bones, and every cough rattled in his chest like loose gravel. His muscles ached, his hands shook, and the dull pounding behind his eyes made it hard to concentrate on the road ahead.

Remi’s exhaustion grew heavier with every mile. By the time he reached the halfway point, he knew he couldn’t keep going without stopping for a break. He spotted a small roadside diner up ahead and pulled into the empty parking lot, the tires skidding slightly on the icy pavement.

The moment he stepped out of the car, the bitter cold hit him like a slap to the face. His chest tightened immediately, and he doubled over with a harsh coughing fit, his breath coming in wheezing gasps.

“Hhh...hh—Hh'IISHH! -hd’ISCHhh!! -h’dtTISHh! snffhh! Hhh—IISSCHhh’uhhh!” Another sneeze fit ripped through him as he stumbled toward the diner, barely catching it in the crook of his arm. His nose was running nonstop, and his entire body shivered violently, the fever and cold conspiring to sap what little strength he had left.

Inside, the diner was dim and nearly empty, save for a single bored-looking waitress wiping down the counter. Remi ordered a large coffee, his voice so hoarse that the waitress leaned closer to hear him.

“Rough night, huh?” she said sympathetically as she handed him his cup.

“Somethidg like thad,” Remi muttered, his glowing green eyes narrowing as he tried to ignore the tickle building in his nose again. He shuffled to a corner booth, blowing his nose loudly into a fresh tissue before collapsing into the seat.

The coffee was hot and bitter, and while it didn’t do much for his sinuses or the throbbing in his head, it gave him enough energy to keep moving. After a few minutes, he dragged himself back to the car, his shivers worsening as the freezing air clung to his damp clothes.

---

The second half of the drive was even worse.

The snow had picked up, falling in heavy sheets that made it almost impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The car heater was working overtime, blasting lukewarm air that left Remi feeling alternately sweaty and chilled to the bone.

“Hhh… hh—Hihh’ISSHh! ihH’ktdSHhh!!! hhEhh-! HhEHh’IITShh’IIEW! hiiih’ISHHHh—uhH!! HAHH’IKKTsh—uhh!”

Remi’s sneezes grew wetter and harsher, his tissues quickly piling up in the passenger seat. He could barely keep his glowing green eyes open, the exhaustion dragging at him like a physical weight. The coffee he’d had earlier was wearing off, and his head lolled forward a few times before he snapped upright, shaking his head in an attempt to clear the fog.

“I cad do this,” he muttered to himself, his voice little more than a hoarse rasp. “Jusd a little… snnnRRFKKK!... a little farther.”

But as the miles dragged on, the storm grew worse, and so did Remi’s symptoms. His chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, each breath rattling ominously. The chills that wracked his body made it hard to keep his hands steady on the wheel, and the constant sneezing fits forced him to pull over twice more, each stop adding precious minutes to the already grueling trip.

---

By the time he finally pulled into Levi’s driveway, five hours after leaving the airport, Remi was a wreck. His head throbbed with every heartbeat, his nose was so red and raw that even the tissues felt like sandpaper, and his entire body ached as if he’d been dragged through the snowstorm himself.

He slumped against the steering wheel for a moment, too drained to move. But then the front door flew open, and Levi came rushing out into the snow, his freckled face alight with concern.

“Remi!”

The sight of Levi gave him just enough strength to sit up, though his voice was little more than a croak. “Dodd ged doo glose,” he warned weakly, fumbling for another tissue. “Budd… berry grisdbas. I bissed you so budge.”

And as Levi wrapped his arms around him, ignoring his protests, Remi let out a shaky breath of relief. He was home.

“You idiot,” he murmured, his ice-blue eyes scanning his mate’s flushed, miserable face. “Come inside. You look like you’re about to collapse.”

---

Inside, Levi wasted no time.

The moment Remi shuffled through the door, his towering frame hunched and shivering, Levi was already moving. “Bathroom. Shower. Now,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Remi groaned softly, the sound thick with exhaustion and congestion. “I’b fide—”

“You’re not fine,” Levi interrupted, slipping an arm around Remi’s waist to steady him as he swayed on his feet. “Shower. You’re freezing, and you need to get that fever down.”

With Levi’s help, Remi made it to the bathroom, his glowing green eyes glassy and distant. The warm air in the small room was a stark contrast to the bitter chill outside, and the moment Levi turned on the shower, steam began to rise, filling the space with a comforting heat.

“Clothes off,” Levi said gently, stepping out to give Remi a moment of privacy.

Remi moved slowly, his fingers trembling as he fumbled with his jacket and shirt. Each movement felt like a monumental effort, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. By the time he managed to strip off his damp clothes, his feverish skin was already slick with sweat. He stepped into the shower, the steaming water cascading over his broad shoulders, and let out a low, guttural sigh of relief.

The heat eased his shivers almost instantly, and for the first time in hours, his chest didn’t feel like it was constricted in a block of ice. The steam worked its way into his clogged sinuses, loosening the congestion just enough to allow for a few deep, shuddering breaths.

But he was so tired.

His head lolled forward, his forehead pressing lightly against the tiled shower wall as the water poured over him. His glowing green eyes fluttered shut, the flickering light dim and weak. He felt himself drifting, the haze of fever and exhaustion pulling him under, but a sudden, wet sneeze jolted him back to reality.

“Hhh… hh’IISHHhhuhh! Hh—IISSCHhh’iew!”

The sneezes bent him forward, his hands bracing against the wall for balance as the force wracked through his already-aching body. He groaned softly, his hoarse voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Levi’s voice came from the other side of the door, gentle but insistent. “Remi? You okay in there?”

“Y-yeah,” Remi rasped, though his voice cracked under the strain.

Levi pushed the door open a crack, his freckled face peeking in. “Don’t fall asleep in the shower, okay? You’re scaring me...”

“Not sleepig,” Remi muttered, though his drooping eyelids said otherwise. He reached for the shampoo with shaky hands, managing to lather his hair before the motion left him winded.

Levi sighed softly, stepping fully into the room now and grabbing a towel. “Alright, big guy. That’s enough. Time to get you into bed.”

---

By the time Remi stumbled out of the bathroom, his black hair damp and dripping, Levi had transformed the bedroom into a cozy haven. The humidifier was running on high, filling the room with a soothing mist of eucalyptus-scented steam. On the nightstand sat a glass of water, a dose of cold medicine, and a fresh box of tissues.

“Here,” Levi said softly, guiding Remi to sit on the edge of the bed. He handed him the medicine, his freckled brow furrowing as he watched the wolf struggle to open the blister pack. “Let me.”

Remi surrendered the package without a fight, sniffling thickly as Levi popped out two pills and handed them over. He swallowed them with a sip of water, his broad shoulders slumping as he crawled under the blankets.

“By dose bages gross doises whedd I sleeb righd dow,” he warned weakly, his voice thick with congestion. His glowing green eyes were dim, barely visible beneath his heavy eyelids.

Levi smiled softly, brushing a hand through Remi’s damp hair. “I don’t care what you sound like,” he murmured. “I just want you to rest.”

Remi let out a faint hum of acknowledgment, already sinking into the pillows Levi had propped up to help him breathe.

The medicine and humidifier worked wonders.

Within minutes, Remi’s body relaxed, his breathing slowing into a rhythm of congested snores. His broad chest rose and fell unevenly, each inhale punctuated by soft whistles and gurgling sounds from his overworked nose. Occasionally, a wet, rattling cough would break through, his body shuddering with the effort before settling back into sleep.

Levi sat beside him, his hand moving gently through his mate’s hair in slow, soothing strokes. He didn’t mind the noises—if anything, the sound of Remi’s breathing was a comfort. He was finally resting, his body beginning to catch up on the sleep it had been so desperately craving.

“You’re home now,” Levi murmured softly, pressing a kiss to Remi’s temple. “Just rest, Acushla.”

He stayed by his side until his own icey-blue eyes grew heavy, his fingers still tangled in Remi’s hair as the room filled with the gentle hum of the humidifier and the soft, labored sounds of Remi’s breathing.

---

At 6 a.m., however, the peace was broken.

Levi stirred awake when he felt the heat radiating off Remi even through the layers of blankets. He shifted, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the curtains, and frowned turned toward their mate. Remi was pale, his shaggy black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his glowing green eyes barely cracked open at the sound of Levi’s voice.

“Hey,” Levi murmured softly, shaking him gently by the shoulder. “Remi, wake up.” His freckled brow furrowed in concern as he pressed a hand to his forehead. The heat there was almost alarming.

Remi groaned weakly, his voice rough and nearly incomprehensible. “Wha’…?”

“You’re burning up,” Levi said, his voice tight with worry as he reached for the thermometer on the nightstand. He slipped it under Remi’s tongue, brushing a damp strand of hair away from his flushed face as he waited for the result.

When the thermometer beeped, Levi glanced down at the reading and frowned deeply. “106,” he muttered, shaking their head. “You’re not going anywhere today. No arguments.”

Remi shifted weakly against the pillows, his brow furrowing in faint protest. “B-buhh… I dod’t—”

“No,” Levi interrupted firmly, cutting him off with a soft kiss to his fever-warm temple. “You’re spending Christmas in bed, big guy. Biziil, Connie, and Meeko will understand. I know you wanted to be there, but right now, the only thing that matters is you getting better.”

Remi let out a soft, defeated sigh, his glowing green eyes fluttering shut. “I’b sorry,” he mumbled hoarsely.

“Don’t be,” Levi murmured, smoothing a hand through his damp hair. “I’m just glad you’re here, Rem. Get some rest, Acushla. I’ll be back soon.”

---

When Levi returned later that morning, the house was quiet except for the gentle hum of the humidifier and the soft, labored sounds of Remi’s breathing.

Levi set down the bags of groceries they’d picked up after their brief visit to family and crept into the bedroom, their heart sinking at the sight of their mate. Remi was sprawled awkwardly against the pillows, his massive frame practically melting into the bed. His breathing was loud and uneven, each inhale a wet, congested whistle followed by a rattling exhale. A crumpled tissue was pressed to his face, and more were scattered across the blanket, evidence of his ongoing struggle with his cold.

Levi sighed softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Oh, Rem,” they murmured, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Remi didn’t stir, too deeply entrenched in his feverish sleep to notice. His brow was furrowed slightly, as if even in rest he couldn’t escape his discomfort. Levi gently adjusted the blankets around him, tucking him in more securely before slipping into bed beside him.

The warmth radiating off Remi was immediate and startling, his fever like a furnace beneath the covers. It sent a pang of guilt through Levi’s chest, knowing his mate had pushed himself so hard just to get home. But despite that, they couldn’t stop themselves from wrapping their arms around him, pulling his sweaty, shivering frame close.

Remi stirred faintly at the touch, letting out a soft snort as his glowing green eyes cracked open just a sliver. “Nnnnn… l-Levi?” he mumbled, his voice barely more than a croak.

“Yeah, I’m here, Rem,” Levi said softly, stroking his hair. “I got you.”

The tension in Remi’s body eased at their words, his head lolling weakly onto Levi’s shoulder. His breath came in loud, wheezy gasps, each exhale rattling painfully in his chest. “I’b sorry… he croaked, his voice breaking as he sighed in defeat. “That this is how you have to spedd adother grissbas…”

Levi shook his head, his freckled nose scrunching slightly as he placed a gentle kiss to Remi’s damp temple. “Hey, shut up,” He murmured affectionately. “I’ll spend every Christmas like this if it means spending it with you, Acushla. Just get better, okay? We can worry about the other stuff later.”

Remi nodded weakly, his eyelids fluttering closed again as he relaxed into Levi’s embrace.

“Merry Christmas, Acushla,” Levi whispered after a second, his voice heavy with love and worry.

“Hhh… b-behhh- hehhh- Hd’IZTSsHHhhh’ih!”

Remi barely had time to bury his face in the blanket before another harsh sneeze tore through him, his whole body shuddering with the force. He sniffled wetly, wiping at his nose with the corner of the blanket before collapsing back against the pillows with a heavy sigh.

“Berry Gristbas, kitted,” he mumbled weakly, his voice nasally and clipped with congestion.

Levi smiled softly, his hand still stroking through his hair as he whispered, “Bless you, Rem. Rest now. I’ve got you.”

And as the humidifier hummed quietly in the background, Levi stayed by his side, determined to nurse him through this miserable Christmas—and every one after.

[cure-typhoon]

Tbh now that i think about it the HS cast would probably be unhappy (at least for some time) whether they decide to start ''Living as Gods'' or ''Living in Secret'' in Earth C

Either they live as godhood and have to deal with the constant pressure of people treating them different because theyre divinity, the mess of politics that would happen because theyre gods so ofc people would want their input, the religions that would be created just by being there, the awfulness that would occur on their name because their followers thought thats what they wanted, probably some wars, backstabbings, the change in their personalities after being treated as godhood for some time, so much godhood drama, etc etc etc

Or they live as normal citizens, which means that now had to adapt to this new society with rules they probably never heard of, a new language that would definitly happen after that time jump they did (or at the very least it would be too different of the english they grew up in), which would also happen if they lived as gods but at least people knew they we're gods so they had an excuse of not knowing shit, but now theyre trying to live as common people in a society with no papers, no education, no home and trying to not be discovered if they use their powers. They would probably be all living together in a made-shift cabin in some forest at the start so that way things we're easier for all of them

[wanderingaldecaldo]

WIP Whenever on a Wednesday

Tagged by @aggravateddurian, thanks choom! Glad to see Valerie back!!

After having spent most of the month working on a new WIP in a new AU, I remembered that it's Finish that Fucking Fic February (ofc I can't find the post, thanks hellsite). Last night I switched back to the latest in the OG Streetkid series Into My Arms, an untitled WIP that I started nearly two years ago based on a prompt from dearest @theviridianbunny. Bunny's prompt inadvertently spawned Lover's Spit, a piece that helped me further explore Mitch & Val's story. I'd forgotten how much I'd already written on this WIP (over 3k words!) and walked into a really nice setup of Val asking Mitch to dance.

“Can we…” She hesitates. She’s never asked him to dance before, but the urge overtakes her. “Can we dance first?” Mitch pulls back and beams at her. “’Course, darling. Think we might even be so lucky as to have a working record player.” He leads her back to the main room of the cabin and the bookcase with a pile of records, then pushes the coffee table up against the sofa while Val starts to flip through the records. “Let’s see what we got,” he says and wraps his arms around her waist, leaning his chin on her shoulder as he watches her look through the albums. “Dunno any of this,” she says after a moment, her voice quiet. Johnny’d probably know most of them. So much she doesn’t know, will never know. “Let me?” His voice is gentle and she steps to the side to allow him access. He flips back a couple from where she was. “Most of this is older than me. Dunno most myself.” She hums, feeling a little better about her lack of musical knowledge. “What about this one?” she asks when he lands on one with with a woman crooning into a microphone in front of a band with a trumpet and standup bass. “A little jazz? Why not?” He pulls the paper sleeve and carefully slides the black plastic disc into his hand, then places the record on the player and presses the button. Turning back to her, he holds out his hand to her and says, “May I have this dance, my love?” Her smile stretches her cheeks and she ducks her head as he raises her hand to his lips. “Can have all my dances,” she murmurs. “Careful. Might hold you to that,” Mitch says, matching her softness. The stereo crackles and pops as the turntable arm drops into place, and a few seconds later the music starts— a piano to start then a smooth smokey voice starts singing about how love is blind. He pulls her close, his other hand wrapping around her waist as she raises hers to wrap around his neck. She dares to match his gaze, and she can only hold it for a few seconds before the love in his eyes submerges her in a tidal wave, and she leans against his chest, tucks her head beneath his chin as he begins to sway.

Tagging with no pressure to share something you're working on: @aggravateddurian and @theviridianbunny since you're here; plus @nightride-sniper @streetkid-named-desire @ghostoffuturespast @blackrevell @sweetmage and YOU! Are you working on something? Share it and tag me!

[notgonnaedit]

Healer's Love

Confined

Summary: Six months after Eriadu, the remainder of the squad struggles to be whole as they fight for their right to be a family.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Teen!OFC (clones being good brothers/dads)

Chapter summary: Althea has changed since Eriadu, but who hasn't?

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, death, blood loss, grieving, rage, scars, lots of violence (If I miss a tag LMK)

A/n: for this episode I'm going to focus on Hunter, Wrecker, and Althea. What happens with Omega and Crosshair is just really boring and can be explained in the episode where they escape. I am keeping the episode name because it's perfect for how Althea feels in this chapter. 

Masterlist

Tags: @hugmekenobi @nottwonerdy777

@dreamsight73 @delicioustacocollector

@covert1ntrovert @clonethirstingisreal

"Get her to the Marauder!" Hunter practically screamed. His helmet did nothing to hide the desperation in his voice as he held Althea's limp form in his arms. Her breathing was rapid and her eyes were wide with fear. Her blood soaked her side, staining her and Hunter's armor.

Wrecker ran in front of them, blasting at their attackers that chased them. He climbed the steps to their ship, immediately getting it powered up as Hunter skidded to a halt.

"Wrecker, get us out of here!" He yelled as he threw his helmet to the floor. Althea's wound was too open. She was bleeding out. Hunter set her gently on the floor, his hands shaking as he pressed his hands to her injured side.

"Ahh!" A pained groan escaped her. She tried to move away, her breaths rapid with fear.

Hunter grabbed her shoulder with one hand, his other compressing her wound. "I know, kiddo, but I gotta stop the bleeding." The ship jolted. "Wrecker! Why are we not in hyperspace yet?!"

"I'm trying!" Came the demo man's reply from the cockpit.

Althea's breathing grew more rapid. Hunter's heart hammered in his throat. He took her hands and pressed them to her the oozing gash in her side. "You gotta keep pressure on it, okay, kiddo?" It sounded like somebody else was talking. Someone who wasn't a soldier.

Althea cried out again, eyes welling with tears. Hunter's hands shook as he fumbled to find something – anything – to stop the bleeding. "Damn it!"

Her breathing grew more rapid and shallow. Hunter's eyes pricked with tears. "No, you're gonna be fine." He refused to believe otherwise.

Althea's hand gripped his own, fear the only thing in her eyes. Hunter pressed his hand to her wound as he pulled her close. "You're gonna be okay, baby, I promise."

Her eyes darted around as if she was searching for him, her breathing slowed.

The ship jolted again, this time into hyperspace. Wrecker came running into the cabin from the cockpit.

Althea's grip slacked on Hunter's arm. His vision swam, his heart fell into the void growing in his chest. "No, no. No!" He held her head in his hand, her long black locks matted down from the blood.

Her breathing grew grew shallower and shallower, until it stopped. Hunter held her closer. "No, no! Come on, baby, you're gonna be okay." Tears rolled down his face as he cradled the girl in his arms.

"Hunter..." Wrecker's voice was thick. His hand rested on his brother's shoulder.

But Hunter couldn't let go. Althea's body was limp in his arms, only moving when his body shook with silent sobs. He didn't care about the blood that was covering him, or he had his own wounds that needed tending to.

All he could think of was that his little girl was dead in his arms.

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•

Hunter's eyes snapped open as he sat up in the chair. It was just another nightmare. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping him. A soft mumble turned his attention to where Althea was sleeping on her bunk. She was here, and she was okay.

His dream had mostly been a memory. One from six months ago, shortly after Omega was taken and Tech... He swallowed hard. Six months and he could barely even think about it without getting choked up. 

It had been six months ago, Althea was severely wounded. It was so long ago. Before she cut her hair, before she wore Hunter's scarf as her own. Before she grew so bitter.

Hunter's dream had been a memory mixed with his fears. Althea had almost bled out on the floor of the Marauder, but Hunter had patched her up and she was safe. But nothing could make Hunter forget the panicked sound of her breathing. Nothing could wipe the image of her dying from his mind. Nothing could keep him from away from her, for fear if she wasn't, she would be harmed.

                        •°•°•°•°•°•

A soft breath escaped Althea as she stood the ’fresher. Her hair lay limp and damp against her head as she brushed her teeth. She had just taken a fast shower after returning from their latest mission. 

A gargled scoff left her, prompting the medic to spit out the plain toothpaste. 

Missions, she thought bitterly. More like a painful scavenger hunt that leads to nowhere.

Ever since Omega was taken to Tantiss, Hunter, Wrecker, and Althea had been hunting down any scrap of information they could find. All they had were mere crumbs, but that didn't stop them.

Althea spat the final bit of water out of her mouth and put her toothbrush away. She leaned against the sink, glaring at her reflection.

Her ebony hair was cut short, barely grazing her shoulders now. Her golden eyes were narrowed. A faded white scar – once dark and red – adorned her lips that seemed to be permanently scowling.

She had changed in the last six months, there was no denying it. Her lip wasn't the only thing that had scared over. Her heart was callous and unwavering. She had done things she had never imagined doing, even as a soldier, during their hunt for Omega. 

She didn't care what she did, as long as it meant finding something – anything – that would help them find Omega. It was her only goal, and if she died while doing it, so be it. The galaxy had never been kind to her, why would it start now?

Althea pushed herself off the sink and turned to adorn her armor. She was rarely seen without it these days. The once bright teal and orange had faded like a desert sky. Her chest plate had carbon scoring on her left side, an angry testament to the dangers she had endured. She was missing a pauldron on her right shoulder, but a small bit of padding covered it.

She pulled the final piece over her head: a faded red scarf. It fit loosely over her shoulders with a small hood hanging off her back. She had been wearing it for so long, she couldn't quite recall how Hunter ended up giving it to her. She ran her fingers over the worn fabric. It had tears and was starting to fray from the abuse, but she couldn't bring herself to part with it for an unknown reason.

Althea pulled herself from her thoughts. Now was not the time to go there. She looked back to the sink and grabbed her hair tie, pulling her half of her ebony locks back into a soft tuft. Part of her missed her long hair, but she couldn't afford to be a liability on during the search. She had loved it, but she had to go without a lot of things she loved over the years.

Althea opened the ’fresher door and stepped out. The smell of oil reached her nose, a stark contrast from the plain scent of her shower. Her gaze immediately found Wrecker cleaning his blaster. He looked up at her and gave her a short nod. Even he had been down these days.

"Shower's free," the medic said. 

"Thanks." Wrecker, seemingly finished with his task, put his supplies away and stepped past her into the small cleaning chamber.

Althea's eyes gleaned the cabin. It looked the same as always. Chairs waiting somewhat near the blinking consoles, a dim light flickering above – it been doing that more often lately – that barely illuminated the area. Gonky sat on the floor, barely making any noise. And next to the console were Tech's goggles.

Cracked and broken they sat there. The red light that had so often recorded their misadventures was as dead as their owner. 

Althea stared at it, expressionless. At first, she was so shocked she couldn't believe Tech was gone. She had cried, but her tears had dried up. Tech's goggles stared at her, as if his very soul was imbued into them, asking her a single question: are you okay?

Althea jerked her eyes away, squeezing her hands to resist tapping them in a familiar code. She knew she wasn't okay, but that wasn't her main concern. Finding Omega was her concern.

The medic strode into the cockpit, taking a seat in the co-pilot's seat. The blue swirls of hyperspace danced before her, taking them to their destination.

"Any word from Echo?" She asked.

The man in the pilot's seat pressed a button. "He hasn't found anything on Tantiss," Hunter told her. "We're headed back to Pabu to get supplies."

Althea nodded, looking back out to hyperspace. 

Hunter's armor, much like Althea's, had seen better days. He was missing a right pauldron, his chest plate had lost most of it's color, even his beloved red bandana had to been used as a bandage in an emergency. The tracker now wore a simple brown one he had found. The shade matched his eyes, which were often accompanied by dark circles underneath.

He had been working himself ragged to find Omega, and it was clear as day. Althea didn't know what to do about it, despite being a medic. Hunter was a run down machine, refusing to stop until he shut down entirely. The medic had considered using mild sedatives in his canteen, but she knew he would sniff them out easily. Wrecker had tried his best as well, but in the end, the only thing that would make the tracker rest was when he passed out from utter exhaustion.

Hunter pressed a few buttons and the hyperspace was replaced by a cerulean planet. Pabu was a breath of fresh air in a galaxy of smog, even if the breath was short.

It was dusk on Pabu as Hunter landed the Marauder. Wrecker stepped out of the ’fresher just as the ramp opened.

Althea stood from her seat and walked out to the open air. A light breeze rustled the leaves of the Weeping Maya tree. Pink flowers were beginning to unfurl, shyly showing off their petals to the island.

The medic inhaled through her nose, letting the salty sea air fill her lungs before releasing her breath through her mouth. These past months had been horrible, but Pabu was still a place she could breathe.

"They're back!" A voice called.

Across the plaza, three figures made their way towards them. Phee, Sorren, and Lyana. They had been helping as much as they could, Phee especially with her numerous contacts across the galaxy.

Althea, Hunter, and Wrecker made their way down the ramp, their boots thudding softly on the stone.

"It's nice to see your faces again," Phee commented as they met. While she didn't look as bad as Hunter, there were clear signs of fatigue in her eyes. She had taken Tech's death well, but Althea suspected that she didn't show her true feelings often, especially not in front of others. 

That was why Tech was special to her.

"Any luck?" The liberator asked, a mix of Hope and trepidation in her expression.

No one answered her. Althea folded her arms and glared at the ground.

"Not yet," Hunter finally said. "But we're not stopping until we find her."

Phee hummed solemnly. Whether it was pity or empathy, the medic was unsure. 

"Well, Shep's almost finished with supper," Phee spoke, "and you three look like you could use a good meal."

"Can't argue with that," Wrecker stated. But even his usual gusto was damped by their lack of success.

Althea looked up and found Sorren looking at her. Lyana as well. The girl missed her friend, and her brother wanted to help.

As they started walking down the paths to Shep's home, Althea fell behind the others. Sorren glanced back at her a few times before slowing his pace slightly to keep step with her.

"Nothing?" He asked softly.

Althea shook her head. "Not unless you count a few dead gangsters that didn't have anything."

Sorren didn't say anything to that. Althea couldn't quite understand why he stuck around her. They had never acknowledged what they were, mainly since she had barely seen him since before they left for Eriadu. He had kissed her cheek that one time, but other than that....

Althea knew she had feelings for him, she just didn't have time for feelings at the moment. And that moment has lasted for a long time now.

But that didn't deter Sorren, no. For some unknown reason, he still wanted to spend time with gruff, angry, violent Althea. She found it endearing, but also confusing.

When they reached Shep's house, the owner was setting out plates. He offered a greeting that Althea didn't care to pay attention to. It was the same runaround as with Phee. They hadn't found Omega, they look like death, and they're all moments away from losing it.

Althea was quiet as they ate. The food was good, but it took an exceptional effort just to swallow. She didn't want to eat. It felt wrong when Omega trapped somewhere. Who knows if she was even getting to eat.

"I can seek out more of my own contacts," Phee stated, drawing Althea back to the conversation. "But poking around for info on Hemlock isn't as easy as you'd think."

"Are there any contacts that you can give us?" Hunter asked. "We could divide and conquer."

Phee took a swig of her drink before pressing her mouth into a thin line. "I don't know. They don't take kindly to newbies, and if you go in blasters blazin’, you won't get any information out of them, and it'll jeopardize my ability to talk to them."

"We don't go in blasters blazin’ every time," Wrecker huffed.

"Althea here looks like she might." The liberator winked at the medic in an attempt at humor. "I wouldn't be surprised if those bright eyes of yours started cutting people on their own from they way your glaring at the table."

Althea blinked. Something clicked in her head. 

Bright Eyes. An old nickname for her.

"Cid," she muttered under her breath.

Hunter looked at her, brow furrowed. He was the only one who could hear her. "Say again, kiddo."

"Cid," she repeated, louder this time. "It was right in front of us this whole time."

"What's that back stabbin’ reptile got to do with this?" Wrecker snarled.

"Don't you remember all the jobs we ran for her?" Althea asked. "It wasn't just for her all the time. She was the middle man. She owed part of her cut to her clients–"

"–who worked with people in the underworld," Phee finished. "Of course!"

Hunter hummed in thought. "If we can get information out of her, we have a chance at finding Tantiss."

"I wouldn't mind giving her a piece of my mind either." Wrecker sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.

"I'm not sure who this ‘Cid’ is," Shep started, "but are you sure that she's still in the same place you last met her."

A snort left Althea, the closest thing to a laugh she could muster. "Snakes don't leave their dens."

                     •°•°•°•°•°•°•

The streets of Ord Mantell were dark and dank. A few vendors remained in the market, but most had already packed up and left for the night. Thugs and homeless lurked in the shadows, unnoticed by most.

One building, with the entrance at the bottom of the stairs, was empty save for a single soul.

Cid Scaleback wiped the bar of her establishment with a cloth. The music from the jukebox was garbled. She had the Empire to thank for that. Ever since they stormed in, she had lost several customers and a lot of money. Part of that loss was from the lack of those boys running jobs for her.

But she had to cut her losses and turn them in. They had become liabilities, especially when they left for several weeks and then showed up randomly, panicked and bloody.

The lights flickered above her a few times before they went out completely. Great, now she had to get that fixed along with her jukebox.

She heard a thud. It sounded like it was coming from her office. Her slitted eyes narrowed. She reached down, her claws closing around a metal pipe she kept behind the bar.

Cid heard another noise. She felt a hard crack against her skull and her vision went white.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•

Cid groaned as she opened her eyes. All she could hear was ringing, but as her vision adjusted, she could see she was in her office. She moved to get up, but her hands her bound behind the chair. Her feet were clamped down as well.

She looked up in a panic.

"Nice of you to join us," Hunter said, standing in front of her. The desk had been thrown to the side. Althea and Wrecker were there too, standing in front of the door with their arms folded and eyes narrowed.

Hunter's helmet was discarded on the floor. He glared down at Cid. He wanted her to have to look her in the eyes. He could hear her heart rate kick up as she looked around nervously.

"W-What do you want from me?" She stammered.

"Where is the location of Mount Tantiss?" Hunter demanded.

"What?"

"Mount Tantiss," the tracker repeated. "An Imperial base run by Doctor Royce Hemlock."

"I don't know who you're talking about."

"Liar!" Hunter growled. "He payed you off after you tossed us to the Empire like the traitor you are. Now, where. Is. Tantiss?" He pulled his knife from the sheath and leaned in close.

"I don't know!" Cid pleaded. "I don't–" she stopped suddenly.

Hunter saw something. A glint of recognition in her eyes. "What?" He demanded.

Cid looked around fearfully. "If I tell you, they'd kill me."

Hunter pressed the blade to her throat. "And I won't?!" He snarled.

"The Durands!" She broke. "They have a bounty on a Pyke! They have information you could trade!"

Hunter pressed his knife into her scales, daring her to lie.

"That's all I know! I swear!" She begged. "Please!"

Hunter narrowed his eyes, the smokey hues turning cold and unwavering. He could hear his own ragged breaths. He wanted so badly to jerk his arm, to drag his blade across her throat. But he pulled back.

Cid gasped for air, breathing freely without a knife against her throat.

A blaster shot stopped her. A smoldering hole in her chest stopped her from breathing. Hunter turned to see Althea, her expression twisted in a nasty snarl and her arm raised, blaster still smoking.

"That was for Omega," she seethed.

                    •°•°•°•°•°•°•

Hunter sat in the pilot's seat, turning the information they had learned in his mind. Getting involved in the feud between the Durands and the Pykes was dangerous, but Hunter would stop at nothing to get Omega back.

"How long ’till we reach Devaron?" Althea asked, entering the cockpit.

Hunter turned his seat to face her. The Pykes were deadly. It was one thing for the tracker to put himself on the line, but he wasn't going to risk Althea.

"About that," he started. "Me and Wrecker are going on this mission. You're staying on Pabu."

"What??" Althea huffed. "Why?"

Hunter stood. "It's too risky, kiddo. We–"

"Too risky??" Althea repeated angrily. "I'm not a child! I handled myself when we went again Crimson Dawn!"

Hunter glared down at her. "You handled yourself?" He challenged. "Because last I remember, I had to stop you from bleeding out on the floor of the Marauder."

"Omega needs all the help she can get, and I'm not waiting around for her to fall into our laps!" Althea snarled.

"You are staying on Pabu and that's an order, Althea!" Hunter snapped. "You couldn't handle Crimson Dawn, and you're sure as hell not handling the Pykes!"

Althea glared up at him. She didn't say anything, just turned away and walked out of the cockpit. Wrecker walked in at the same time, glancing between the two as the door slid shut.

"What was that?" He asked.

Hunter slumped back in the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She's not going with us to Devaron," he sighed.

"Why not?" Wrecker asked. 

"Because I'm not putting her in the middle of two fighting crime syndicates, especially when one of them is the Pykes."

Wrecker hummed is understanding and sat in the chair across from Hunter. "Yeah, s’pose that makes sense."

Hunter rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. He wanted to go back. To go back when they first went to Pabu. When Omega and Althea were laughing freely, and when Tech was still there.

But he couldn't. That life was gone, and as much as he hated to see it, so was Althea. The girl who laughed, joked, and cried was gone. She was replaced by a cold husk.

He wasn't much different. Finding Omega was his only goal, and he could barely recognize himself in the mirror. 

Losing himself was one thing, but losing Althea was like watching his heart get ripped out. He may have kept her alive, but he didn't protect her.

He had failed.

<-Previous

Next->

[imqueerandadeer]

i am back and with some silly questions!!!!!

top 3 favorite pjo characters?

top 3 favorite pjo ships?

favorite platonic pjo duo?

favorite familial pjo duo?

a random hc you adore?

do you prefer pjo or hoo?

favorite pjo/hoo book?

camp jupiter or camp half blood?

what cabin do you think youd be in and what cabin would you want to be in?

thoughts on luke castellan?

do i have permission to come into your askbox randomly rambling about pjo?

and finally the most important question of all......favorite color(s)?

dont feel pressured to answer all of these or even any of them!!!!!

YAY

favorite pjo characters:

Will Solace

Nico di Angelo

Alex Fierro

top three ships:

solangelo

Fierrochase

Valgrace

favorite platonic pjo duo:

Piper and Leo

favorite familial pjo duo:

Annabeth and Leo

favorite headcannon:

Oh where do I begin:

Trans Will Solace

Hearing aid Will Solace

Mobility aid Nico di Angelo

Trans Nico di Angelo

Thai Percy (a personal HC of mime (projecting on to Percy) I mean what)

ANY TRANS PJO HC

Also Bi Percy & Annabeth

Which do I perfer Hoo or pjo:

Pjo although I think Hoo is good also

favorite pjo/hoo book:

Battle of the labyrinth/House of Hades because of my king Nico di Angelo

Camp Jupiter or camp half blood:

Camp half blood all the way

What cabin would I be in and what cabin would I want to be in:

I think I'd either be Aphrodite or Apollo (the gods I worship fun fact) and I think I'd want to be in Eros maybe

My thoughts on Luke castellan:

Oh boy, okay so can I say this topic has a LOT of nuance. I see both sides of the argument because on one hand Luke did manipulate vulnerable kids and that's not excusable, but on the other hand he himself was manipulated at a young age (which doesn't make his actions excusable by any means, but he was conditioned to think a certain way). Also I do think he had a point with the whole "The system is corrupt thing," but I think he went about it the wrong way.

Do you have permission to ramble about pjo in my askbox:

YESS OFC

also my favorite colors are: blue, yellow, green, pink, and black

[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

ahh i love your writing so much!!! are requests open?? if so id love to request more ethan nakamura >_< maybe a piece about the reader comforting him after the war? (au where he survives ofc) but honestly i wouldnt mind anything lol

loser ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

ethan nakamura x reader backtrack: "loser", bigbang inspiration: you!

in the days following the battle of manhattan, ethan nakamura was sent to the infirmary and visitors were banned from seeing him. this was probably for good reason--you bet that if campers had unrestricted access to ethan, they’d descend upon him with swords and arrows and finish off what kronos couldn’t do. unfortunately, this also meant you couldn’t see ethan at all. you didn’t even know if you necessarily wanted to see him--just thinking of him made your heart ache--but there was something that compelled you toward the big house every day, standing outside and staring through the windows at the infirmary beds lined with the injured. you often had to be dragged away from the big house porch.

after about a week, ethan was discharged from the infirmary. you now often saw him wandering around camp by himself, trying to keep his head down and avoiding eye contact with everyone. he had nobody; none of his friends from the hermes cabin were talking to him, luke was dead, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything except watch from afar. if it wasn’t for you warning the naiads to keep an eye on him, you were sure he would’ve drowned himself already.

you and ethan had so much history. you had been friends for years before everything went to tartarus. you had been the only one ethan confided in when he was feeling angry or upset about the gods. you had been the one to hold him when he had nightmares, to sing softly to him until he fell into a restless sleep. you had known before everyone else that he was planning to betray camp, to join luke and kronos. you had begged him not to go, but he hadn’t listened. you had spent hours tossing and turning in your bed, unable to sleep as your mind danced over all the memories you and ethan shared. you were the best of friends, the worst of enemies, and maybe even something more. and it had been you, in the throne room, who sang to ethan to snap him out of his kronos-induced brainwashed state. you had, essentially, saved his life. and you were miserable. you couldn’t help but feel like you had just reduced ethan to a life of being ostracized and hated; it would take months, if not years, for people to forgive him, if they even would.

maybe it’s your past together that made you so determined to stay with him. you saw how pale his face was; the bags under his eyes were dark purple, and he never showed up to campfire singalongs anymore. you couldn’t remember the last time you saw him smile.

about a month after the battle of manhattan, annabeth started building the new cabins. hades was the first; nico was more than happy to help out with some of the exterior and interior designing. cabin fourteen was for iris, cabin fifteen for hypnos. the design of these cabins were also both heavily influenced by butch and clovis, two respective sons of the gods whom the cabins were built for.

“[name],” annabeth called after you one morning as you headed to archery with your cabin. you turned around to see her clutching a folder and a bunch of paper in hand. she showed you the top piece of paper; it was a blueprint design for a cabin. “I’m designing nemesis’s cabin. do you think ethan would want to . . . you know?”

you noticed her nose crinkle a little as she said his name. you couldn’t blame her though. ethan had, after all, stabbed her with a poisoned knife. but the blueprint looked amazing; it was everything ethan had told you he dreamed of for his own cabin. “this is great, annabeth,” you gushed. “I’m sure ethan would love it. and I can ask him, but honestly. . .”

she understood right away. “sure,” she said. “no pressure.”

now, campers weren’t necessarily supposed to go into cabins that weren’t their own. you silently prayed that hermes would forgive you this one time as you made your way to cabin eleven, footsteps feeling heavier the closer you got. your breathing quickened, and your heart started thumping faster. you didn’t know why you were so nervous to finally talk to ethan. this isn’t about you, you tried to tell yourself. ethan’s cabin is finally being built and you’re just here to tell him.

ethan was right where you knew he’d be; sitting on the couch in the hermes cabin (because he didn’t have a bed, only a sleeping bag on the floor) and staring forlornly out the window, facing away from you. you watched him look sad for several minutes, barely controlling your shaky breathing. your fingers were trembling, you realized, and you squeezed your hands into fists to try to get them to stop. taking a deep breath, you cleared your throat. “if you stay cooped up here forever, you’re going to miss the construction of your cabin.”

he startled a little at your voice, before slowly turning to look at you. “what?” he muttered tiredly, face scrunched up in confusion.

“your cabin,” you repeated. “unless you’d prefer it to be a surprise. but I thought you wanted some sort of say in how the nemesis cabin looks.”

he blinked, an odd emotion crossing his face. you wondered if he was about to cry. “nemesis cabin?” he repeated.

“yeah,” you said. “are you coming?”

he practically jumped off the couch.

ethan practically fainted as he saw the base of the nemesis cabin. his hand reached for yours, pleadingly, desperately searching for something to anchor himself to. you let him grip your arm as he stared at the cabin. his face was pale.

annabeth, to her great credit, actually came over and explained to ethan her plans. she couldn’t hide the disgust or hatred in her eyes, but she actually talked to him nonetheless--you suspected someone like percy had forced her to be civil. she asked ethan a few questions about the interior and exterior of the cabin, like what kinds of designs he would like. ethan was too stunned to say anything at first, only nodding numbly, so you stepped in, trying to remember all the things he had once said he dreamed of having: “large mirrors. black floors. scales everywhere. lanterns and torches. am I missing anything, ethan?”

his mouth opened, then closed, his grip on your arm tightening. “uh, no. I don’t think so. thanks, [name]. chase.”

you elbowed him, not super subtly. “annabeth,” ethan corrected hastily.

“hm. yeah.” annabeth looked him up and down, eyes slightly narrowed. “I can do that.” she gave you a polite nod before turning around and walking off.

you were left with ethan, who was still looking dazed at the fact that there was an actual nemesis cabin being built. “what do you think?” you asked finally, a little nervously.

“I’m such a loser,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. “such a loser. [name]--”

“about time you realized.” you tried to make your voice light and playful. “don’t worry too much, ethan. you’re getting your cabin, after all.” you didn’t know how else to comfort him.

he blinked slowly, and you were shocked to see tears glistening in his eyes. “I wasn’t thinking--I never should have--”

you quickly shushed him, dragging him away from the construction site and toward the lake. you shooed away the naiads so the two of you could have a little privacy. you reach up and hastily brush tears away from ethan’s pale, cold face. “I know you feel guilty, ethan. you can see it on your face. it’ll be okay, all right? it’ll be fine. everything will work out. you did what was right in the end.”

he was shaking a little now, so you quickly took his hands in yours, pulling him closer to you. he clung tightly to you, as if you were the first person who has ever been kind to him. perhaps you really were. you lost track of time as the two of you stood on the dock hugging, years of memories and words unsaid passing between the two of you. presently you ran your hands through his hair, whispering comforting words to him. “it’ll be okay,” you tell him. “the war is over now. you’re safe. you did the right thing. I knew you would come back to me; I saw the good in you from the beginning.”

you didn’t even know if ethan heard or processed a word you said. all you knew was that with every whisper from your lips, his grip on you tightened, as if you were the most precious thing in the world that he could never bear to let go of.

there would be plenty more time for the two of you in the future. there would be words exchanged, fights and laughter and blasts from the past so intense and dark you might not make it out. but right now, as the two of you stood there, you were the only ones in the world. right now, this was all you needed. this was enough.

the first request I've received! thank you for loving my writing and for requesting, and I hope this met your expectations!

divider by @enchanthings

taglist: @loveinalocket, @raysmayhem-72

[hadeslegacyhephgirl]

hi I saw your prompt list and I love your writings when they come across my dash. you don't have Jason/Percy in your ship list but you did that cute uno one and...#11 and #16 just feel so jercy to me, if you're willing to write either or both. figured it didn't hurt to ask but no pressure!!

Jercy #11 - “You promised me that you wouldn’t be reckless this time.”     "Where is he?!"    Jason runs round another tree, desperately looking for Percy    "Where is he?!"  "He's here somewhere, Jason, relax!"    Hazel, the only person as fast a Jason, but also the only one who can keep a level head, runs beside him and checks to her left.    "I would relax if he hadn't been gone for five hours, Hazel."    They round another corner, skidding to a stop outside a cave    "Can you-"  "On it"    Hazel concentrates for a second, then shakes her head.    "No-one in there"    They take off again    ~*~    "Jason! Oof! Woah!"    Percy seems surprised as Jason immediately envelopes him in a hug  Hazel sighs, turning to call Annabeth on one of Leo's demigod-safe cellphones.    Jason finally releases Percy, but keeps his hands on Percy's shoulders.    "Hey. You okay?"  Percy reaches up to press two fingers against Jason's forehead.  "You look stressed. 's not good for you."    "You promised me you wouldn't be reckless this time!"    Percy sighs, pulling his hand back down to rub his face.  Jason misses the contact instantly, but he forces himself to concentrate on the moment.  "I know- but-"  "No buts! You promised!"  "I know, and I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking strait-"  "You're never thinking strait"  "Hah, hah. Very funny. Seriously. I'm sorry."  "You know Cabin 1 is always open- heck, you're sleeping in it half the time!"    Percy huffs a little, then leans forward and wraps his arms around Jason again, burying his face in Jason's chest.    "You weren't there. Needed to get out, somewhere where no-one would find me."    Jason relaxes a little.    "Alright, it's okay. I forgive you. Now I know where to check if you vanish again, yeah?"    ~*~    I don't even know what Percy did. Don't ask.     Sorry for being so inactive!!! 😅 Schoolwork is really loading up, so I haven't had time for much more than a little bit of Discord.  I'll try to keep answering requests though, as much as time allows while I'm working on both homework and a Hermitcraft AU that's currently 8 chapters long and still going!!!  If any of you have been round my AO3, you'll see I've also posted a Hermitcraft Fic there that’s the beginning of a series. (guys. I swear Im still a pjo fan, just hermitcraft has me captured as well)    Please feel free to drop anything (sfw, ofc) in the ask box (pls i need interaction to stay sane rn)  I don't bite, I promise.  

[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

WIP WORD GAME

Thanks for the tag @unhealthyfanobsession! The word was cabin (sorry, antidisestablishmentarianism) and since I have a grand total of two WIPs right now there are no prizes for guessing which excerpt is from which fic!

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

C:

“Come,” he said, pushing away from the doorframe. “If you’re done looking at me like I’m the second coming of Christ, there’s something I want to show you.”

Nesta clutched at the woollen shawl she’d draped around her shoulders, her fingers tightening as she pulled it closer around her chest. His eyes sparked as her jaw dropped. 

“How do you even—“ she sputtered, shaking her head as she let out a breath. “You seem remarkably well versed in Christian theology for a pagan.”

He shrugged. “What do they say, love? Know thy enemy?” He shot her a wink. “It would be remiss of me not to learn such things, would it not?”

A:

Another flare— indignant this time. And Nesta didn’t know how or when she’d learned to interpret those little flares of light, she just… had. And even she had to laugh, then. 

“I’m sure the House has seen much worse from you before.”

Cassian swore under his breath. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

B: (slightly cheating because i don't have a sentence starting with B yet....)

The blood on his hands was like nectar, sweet and rich. The night was dark; the scent of iron, thick. And as the thin ribbon of blood - the essence of life distilled and refined and currently snaking a path over Cassian’s knuckles - settled in the hollows between his fingers, he felt his lips part in a smile that was all teeth.

Lord of Bloodshed, they called him back home.

I:

“If that’s what you think I’ve been doing all this time, love, then I fear I’ve either been woefully indirect, or you’ve been disastrously unobservant.” He leaned closer, so close the heat of him radiated through her until Nesta could practically feel him in her bones. His voice dropped to a low, sultry whisper. “And I think I’ve been very direct.”

N:

“None of this is mine, sweetheart,” he said. He stepped closer, his every move slow. She wondered if he still had nightmares the way she did; if when he closed his eyes, he saw her in Hybern’s throne room the way she saw him, slowly dying on a stone floor. He took another step, and Nesta tried to mimic his breathing. A smile pulled at his mouth as he nodded, pointedly taking a deep breath to encourage her to do the same. “Feyre was in trouble,” he explained. “Az and I went to get her. I had to bloody up a couple of Autumn princes in the process.”

I have no idea who has done this already so apologies if you've already been tagged and, ofc, no pressure! In honour of Nesta week fast approaching, your word is 'queen' 🙌 @xxvalkyriesxx @kale-theteaqueen @dustjacketmusings

[baby-xemnas]

🐯🐻‍❄️ big big love (sort of a draft i want to make into a comic but itll take so long im scared)

pre rship lawbepo - the thought that the boys could suggest law gets into a relationship - ofc while joking that theyd be sad to share captains time with a woman, but it cant be helped! - bepo overhearing and getting upset....ofc law dismisses it, but it still hurts

does captain need a romantic relationship? would it make him happier, does he feel incomplete? its awfully selfish to not want it to happen then ..but where does that leave HIM - bepo chan spiraling into those thoughts... he knew that maybe one day his friendship wont be enough but he couldn't prepare for such a day to come

it would be cute if he didn't even consider himself as a viable sexual partner. they are different races, captain is not gay etc...maybe he rubbed off to a thought of what it would be like to be a cute girl being fucked by law 😳 oh bepo...his thought going there because of logic - okay im a human, and captain is a man, so he would be into a human female, what would that be like? and getting SO embarrassed so quickly because while he knows little about human romance he does know how things work (and how women act around their love interests in literature) so projecting onto that making his head explode. bepo doesnt have time to analyze how he feels he just panics, overwhelmed by the idea and after surprise subsides getting real upset that he is not in fact a human woman...

little did he know that not only its possible but law wants him BADLY. bepo darling he thinks about bending you over and spreading those furry cheeks So Much that if you'd know you would die of embarrassment.

physically it makes no sense cuz hes so big but i love light weight bepo - maybe its the lack of exposure cuz he drinks rarely. but imagine him confessing awkwardly like "haha if i was a human girl i could date captain and never let any other girls near him! 😖" much to 😦😦😦 from the other 3

penshachi: gtg bye (theyll later come back to not find neither law nor bepo cuz theyve gotten back to polar tang to make out in laws cabin. under the guise of "bepo you drank too much we have to go" and when law grabs his hand bepo cant do anything

law is so excited he can barely think straight cuz he only said he doesn't care much for women or human women, trying not to foam at the mouth at the chance with bepo that fell into his lap.

But its an uphill battle how to delicately explain to Bepo that not only Law wants him as he is (male and mink and all) he is the ONLY person he wants. imagine the pressure and fear that he simply misunderstood bepo.

imagine their walk back to the ship from the bar - bepo still tipsy but sobering up from fear because atmosphere got real weird once he said what he said ...and the boys left so they cant even get captain distracted. its just him.

bepo walks behind silent law and anxiety keeps bubbling up to the point bepo starts tearing up because hes not sober so emotions are extra hard to contain and he is so afraid that he ruined everything and what he said will break their relationship now that law knows how he feels. he made it weird and now law hates him 😭

law turning around after he hears bepo sniffle and ofc he puts two and two together

-bepo im not mad or grossed out

-whuh?? 🥺😭

-you dont need to be a girl to keep women away from me you know

-huh??? (at that point bepo is so drowned in worry he forgot what he said)

-you....[sigh] bepo calm down

-sorry...

-if you were a girl you would be my lover?

-dont say it like that captain im sorry its stupid i shouldn't have said it!! 😭😭

-but cant you do it now?

-do what?

-be that

-what, a girl??

-(law closing his eyes in frustration not wanting to call bepo stupid even tho he's being VERY stupid right now) my lover, bepo, it would make me happy if you were my lover now, as you are, you dont need to be a human woman for that

[cue bepo's whole would breaking to the point he almost faints]

[flesheatingbacteriacomplex]

According to Courtney on the Redacted Spoilers video there's something important involving an axe so hear me out:

They're going to cut another one of Ben's limbs (a hand is my best guess) in punishment for burning the cabin down; Nat is going to be the one to make the final call bc she's the new queen and faces a lot of pressure over punishing him (although I don't think he did it, that's a whole other thing) from the rest of the team and she doesn't wanna let them down or seem weak or not fit for the position, and then later they're gonna find out he didn't do it and actually turn against Nat for choosing that punishment (and they're also feeling guilty ab it but ofc they need someone to blame for the horrible thing they ALL decided) and that's gonna lead to Nat getting beat up

[cloveroctobers]

rust — 11. Bode Leone ~ [Winter Prompts]

A/N: My newer pieces for bode don’t get as much attention so I’m writing this quickly in the sense of HC (notes I guess? my form!) s/o to the snow storm for giving me the motivation to write this 🩵

WARNINGS: childhood fears, freak accidents, and slight language?

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: ACTIVITIES — Skiing & Taking pictures in the snow + SITUATIONS — Holidays in the hospital.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ᨒ↟ 𖠰. ݁₊ ⊹

Here is where you should have listened to your instincts and not have let your guard down.

Being back at these slopes was a triggering manner and everyone would have understood if you backed out but you didn’t want to break tradition.

You lost your (adopted) older sibling up on these slopes that the both of you snuck into during a brewing storm.

It wasn’t your idea and you were reluctant but your sibling—who was always the daredevil—convinced you that they knew these slopes well (they were dating the kid of the owner) and always did this once the colder weather came in.

They were so sure that everything would be fun and fine, despite the fact that a storm was coming in.

You told them they should have called their friends to hang out with instead, since you were not the biggest fan of snow and wasn’t the most athletic like your sibling but they chose spending their quality time with you that evening.

They were a senior, you were a sophomore and what was supposed to be, just kids being kids ultimately led to your siblings’ tragic passing.

It didn’t bother you as much until you all pulled up to the slopes and you got a good look at it. That’s when yours knees started to buckle, stomach cramped, palms sweaty beneath your thick gloves, and your chest felt tight.

“Hey, you okay?” Bode questions after his mom nudged her head in your direction, you were slowly pacing from the opposite side of the car, doing breathing exercises while the Leone family carried a conversation.

A humorless laugh slipped through your lips, “Never better, can’t you tell?”

Although you attempted to model out your all white fit in a funny manner, Bode saw right through it as he watched your elbow shake while you had your hand on your hip, with a weak pose.

He immediately grips your forearms, “You know there’s no pressure right? We’re just here to have fun and we’ll take it easy but if it’s too much…you let me know and we can get into something more chill instead.”

You simply smile, knowing this was a repeat of last night’s conversation as you lay in bed together, with Bode trying to see where your head was at. There was no way you were going to be the only party pooper and stay back at the cabin…alone.

Especially since you and Mrs. Sharon forced everyone to watch The Bodyguard last night and that scene with Niki always gave you nightmares.

You were sensitive to things like that, which is why you could never go into the medical field, although there was a time where you wanted to major in it—it ultimately did not work out in the case of your mental.

Snow tubing became more of your snow activity as you found the courage to take pictures with your new camera (that Bode surprised you with on Christmas! You hated that he spent this kind of money on you when he was just building his income back but he didn’t want to hear your concerns, he just wanted to see you smile) of Eve and Jake on their snowboards on the opposite route before you scrambled to stabilize yourself on the slope as it got bumpy towards the middle.

Everyone took turns keeping you company on the tubes but ofc the real action was with the skis and snowboards. Something you once liked participating in although you weren’t the best, you once enjoyed the freeing feeling of being on those slopes.

After browsing the photos you managed to get of Mrs. And Mr. Leone, Eve, Jake, and Bode, just examining their faces through the pictures reminded you of the feeling the slopes used to bring back when you were a child and back when your sibling was still alive.

That photo of the both of you cheesing at the end of the slopes, arms tossed over each others shoulders, that your adopted father snapped of you still sat in the entry way of your family’s home. They only came out to the slopes once a year to honor your sibling but it was no longer a place where they spent the winter anymore either.

“Wait up, I’m coming this time.” You say as the remaining faces turn to you at the lift.

Sharon and Vince were already up on the lift unaware of this decision, while Eve and Jake shared a glance and Bode waved them on to go ahead.

He waited for you as you locked up your camera and he was patient as he helped you into your skis. Exhaling your eyes meet the lift where a few were waiting in line for the next.

“Are you sure?”

“I have to,” you state meeting Bode’s sparkling eyes, “Not just for them but for me too. I can’t keep living in fear over what was lost.”

Bode gives you a slow grin, “There’s my girl. And you know I’m right there with you…if you need me that is.”

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t want anybody else beside me.”

Bode smirks, “Aw.”

“Shut up and help me.” You roll your eyes as Bode gently squeezes the back of your neck, “I haven’t been on these in ages.”

Bode laughs a little as he takes your hand, “Yes, ma’am.”

And just like that you’re above the slopes together, with you squeezing the life out of Bode’s knee but he squeezes yours back, timing it all for when it was time to let go.

In more ways than one.

Once you regain your balance on the snow, which you had to do pretty fast, you’re gliding down the slopes and although Bode can definitely pass you like you know he’s itching to, he keeps pace with you just like he promised.

It’s when there’s tears in your eyes and a carefree laugh that escapes your lips, that you realize that you found your courage again.

Bode loves to see it, encouraging you and relishing in the joy that’s on your face. It’s happy tears although you still miss your sibling, terribly, you knew this was something they always loved to do. Their bucket list was to conquer all the winter sports and you honestly believed that one day they truly would.

That joy becomes short lived as you bring your glance back over to your boyfriend, watching in horror as he stumbles over a uneven terrain, his attempts to recover from that don’t go unnoticed as he soon slips over some undercover patch of ice that sends him failing around, unable to keep his balance.

The first roll and impact, you can hear something crunch along with a crack and it isn’t the skiis. Bode keeps on tumbling and you can feel your heart struggling to beat.

Your screams are as loud as ever, catching other skiers attention and drawing the attention of his parents and your shared friends at the bottom of slope.

You’re spooked for a few seconds but bring yourself out of it as other skiers race to help.

“Bode!” You’re on your knees as you scoop his head into your arms, reminiscent to when you held your sibling’s broken body in your lap as the blizzard planned to bury you both.

He’s sweating after he tossed his insulated face mask to the side in an angry manner but he puts on a grimace of a smile as he takes in your tear stained face, “I’m alright. I—

“Don’t you dare say you promise to me right now!”

Emergency services manage to arrive about a minute later before the rest show up to strap bode in before assessing his injury.

Let’s just say the amount of blood and bone was not for the weak!

“Don’t go blamin’ yourself alright,” Jake says to you as you all stood at the car, “Bode’s strong and he wanted to be there with you when you were ready.”

Jake tried to provide you comfort before climbing into the driver’s seat but it was as if he hadn’t spoken.

Vince is in the passenger side, stressed but received the look Jake sent him, knowing that he would have to step in once you all arrived to the hospital.

The drive was certainly quiet enough compared to the initial ride up here and Eve was just happy enough to gain some feeling back in her hand once you let go.

Sharon didn’t even give the option to let you ride with Bode, which was another reason why you felt like it was your fault but she’s immediately apologetic once she gets a good look at you in the waiting room, embracing you and also taking Bode’s words into account on the ambulance ride.

“Mom, I don’t want her taking everything to heart. She’s just as scared as you, maybe even more and we got to make that right.”

Sharon’s never seen Bode love as hard as he did when he’s with you and the glint in his eye and the reassurance he had more for you than himself said enough.

“I could have responded better back there, gave the option on who should have rode with Bode here.”

You’re understanding, already knowing what the Leone family lost before as well.

“I’ll never hold that against you,” you say in Sharon’s arms, “It was probably best anyway…considering I almost upchucked as soon as the ambulance doors closed.”

“Oh yeah,” Sharon nods, “Still don’t have the best stomach huh?”

“Not in the slightest but I don’t know if I would have been able to keep it together enough for Bode so…no hard feelings.”

“Of course not, honey!”

Then you’re all in the hospital room where they’re just keeping Bode comfortable after running some tests and x-rays until the next orthopedic surgeon is available.

“Damn, Bode! I never thought I’d see the day where you would look like shit, dude.” Eve comments, earning a nudge from Jake and a glare from Sharon while Vince just shakes his head.

Bode scoffs, “Yeah, thanks Eve. Love you too.”

You’re right beside him but you won’t touch him, afraid that you’ll make it worse. Your eyes are lingering over his bandaged and covered leg and you can’t get the image out of your head.

“Hey, I’m going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that yet.” You whisper, “you’re all clammy and probably running a fever. Which I feel like…isn’t good sign.”

“That’s just my body trying to recover.” Bode shrugs although Sharon and Vince both share that knowing parent glance.

Vince leaves the room while Sharon tries not to interfere.

Bode can see that you’re not convinced and holds out a hand, “Holding your hand always makes me feel better, though.”

You scoff, “Uh uh, I’m keeping my hands to myself.”

“Please.”

At least he wasn’t too proud to beg!

You sigh, quickly slipping your hand into Bode’s clammy yet warm hand.

He gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a sigh himself as he shifts slightly uncomfortable on the bed before croaking out, “Ah, that’s better!”

Shaking your head at him, you can’t help but to brush his now curling hair back and press a quick kiss to his forehead.

It’s not long after that, the doctor comes back into the room with Mr. Leone right behind him.

He shows the x-rays up on the wall, informing that Bode experienced an open fracture and he’s definitely at risk for infection, which doesn’t settle the feeling in your chest or stomach. It’s determined that he’ll need surgery and you don’t hesitate to let them know that Bode doesn’t look the best, that he feels feverish.

The doctor takes his temperature again and checks his notes to see that his temperature has increased significantly since he got here, which never feels like a good sign.

It’s when he checks on the fracture that you all see that there’s significant swelling and it’s warm to the doctor’s touch. Immediately he’s calling on the nurses and once they arrive he tells them surgery cannot wait another hour or more. He wants to take care of it right away.

The nurses are quick at prepping and the doctor is talking in hushed tones outside the room with Sharon and Vince.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Bode suggests now with a cap covering his hair.

Eve shakes her head and mutters to the friends, “Yeah man’s lost his mind for sure.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders, knowing what Bode is getting at as your eyes are wide with fear again.

“Are you insane?” You hiss at the foot of his bed now as the nurses work, “Sorry… it’s probably the fever rotting your brain.”

“Ouch.” Jake laughs as he stands beside you, already holding your camera for you.

Bode echoes a laugh, “I’ll take your snark anyday, baby. I mean a picture before I get rolled away into surgery is a badass story I’d love to tell our kids one day…Plus I’ll look much more cooler now than when I’m in a stupid cast.”

Your breathing hitches before you feel your own body fill with warmth. Although you and Bode took forever to get here, being an official couple, and you’ve known each other since you were kids yourselves…this was the first time kids were brought up in your relationship.

You decide with a warning in your eyes, “…Fine but just one.”

“That’s all I need,” Bode jokes while Eve groans and you match her annoyance with a roll of your eyes.

With shaky hands you take the camera from Jake. He gives your shoulders a squeeze before stepping out of the way to give you space.

Bringing the lens up to your eye, you close the other one, zooming into one focal view. Bode looks pale, forehead glimmering with sweat, body slumped, yet there’s crinkles by the corner of his sparkling eyes. He’s smiling but it’s mostly for you and it’s not a wide one by any means but it’s enough as he folds his bulging arms, showing he still has fight in him.

He was right, one picture is all that you needed.

And you find yourself staring at it for a long time while you all wait for him to get out of surgery.

It’s the hope of your lingering shared kiss in the hallway that keeps you going.

“I love you and I’ll see you when you get out. Don’t be diffcult in there.”

“Who me?” Bode smiles against your clasped hands that he brought up to his lips, “Never. I love you too, baby.”

“Until rust?”

“Until we rust.” He recites followed with a wink, giving your hand one last squeeze as you step out of the way, waving at him and hugging yourself as you watch Bode keep his eyes on you until he can’t.

Vince is the one who takes the role of steering you to follow the rest back to the waiting room.

You secretly vowed to never do this shit again but you knew the longer you stared at the photo you took of Bode and ended up showing to Vince and Sharon (Vince got a good chuckle out of this while Sharon scoffed and scolded the boy through the camera but still found herself grinning) and once Bode was well enough to fight fires again, he would be trying his damn hardest to come up with a skiing competition just between you two.

That brings a crooked smile to your face as you slouch in the chair, leg crossed over the other and you toss your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

Waiting…

You were deeply in love with Bode Leone and it was so sickening!

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Read my final winter anthology prompt here.

[topaz-carbuncle]

WIP Wednesday

Mostly because I'm having a lot of fun with this wip, but keep hitting roadblocks while my mind thinks of a direction to go in (also not procrastinating while I make this post or anything!)

A more recent segment from my current wip, The Mist:

“Raven. Shepard.” It repeats, the voice growing more desperate.  She feels herself grow pale, looking as if she's seen a ghost, and instinctively reaches out to grab Garrus’ wrist, pulling him closer. He leans down, his breath ghosting her cheek as he whispers, “Shepard, do you recognise the voice?” She squeezes her eyes shut tight as if she could block out the voice. As if she would wake up in her cabin beside Garrus, with the events of the day being nothing more than a bad dream. The laughter crackles through the static once more, growing louder and demanding her attention. She can feel Garrus moving next to her and hears the click of his rifle being filled with a fresh heatsink. She reluctantly opens her eyes and the laughter dies. “Mum?” She grits her teeth, trying to stop her voice from shaking, yet it does regardless. She feels Garrus stiffen beside her, his hand itching to grab her properly.

Tagging: @strawberrykidneystone, @ohmypawsandwhiskers, @mostmagical, @vakarianshepard(no pressure ofc!)