#feeling extra emo today

[concreteburialplot]

“and I can wish all that I want, but it won't bring us together

plus I know whatever happens to me, I know it's for the better

and when broken bodies are washed ashore

who am I to ask for more, more, more?”

- waiting room - phoebe bridgers

[wethechampignons]

"bad omens", 5sos / x / "little crazy love song", mary oliver / "the nao of brown", glyn dillon / "dosed", red hot chili peppers

[emlovessid]

november 5, charm, 122 words unofficial jegulus microfics with @onehundredflamingos

“I cast a patronus today,” James says quietly, a proud smile on his face.

Regulus rolls over so he’s half draped across James, his chin resting on his chest. “Holy shit, James. That’s amazing!”

“It wasn’t corporeal, just a shield. But it’s the first time I’ve managed anything.”

“You’re incredible,” Regulus smiles, pressing a kiss to James’ shoulder.

Regulus has always been fascinated by the patronus charm. He hasn’t thought too much about what memory he’d choose himself – they won’t cover them until next year – but he thinks it’s pretty amazing that one memory can bring someone so much happiness that it can literally fight back against darkness.

James tilts his head down to look at Regulus, whispering, “I thought of you.”

[elenaes]

ㅤㅤ❛ everything ends in death, everything. death is terrible. ❜ despite the morbidity of the words, her tone is rather casual. the sentiment stems from attending yet another funeral this week ⸻ while she'd only gone to support a friend rather than losing yet another of her loved ones, the experience never got easier. she's not sure why she's telling @americanedpsycho this, other than a feeling he just gets death and the fact that he's conveniently nearby. ❛ putting them to rest . . . i can't stand when people put it like that, it's nothing more than an empty platitude. ❜

[jamesismynames]

the world will never take my heart

[graunblida]

def wanna do some more writing today but i’m cleaning the fuc*k out of my room atm. 10/10 would recommend, so like for some memes and i’ll yeet lexa at y’all! 

[hannie-dul-set]

having the worst fucking week of my LIFE i can't do this anymore.

[lovelaceisntdead]

ah. sad.

[jonginnation]

Christmas always makes me miss my grandma and my dad a lot. I really miss them so much. My grandma especially was able to make everything feel special and like how ‘family’ is supposed to be. I try to be like that but it doesn’t come naturally to me. Idk if it does to anyone… I wonder if she ever felt tired or inadequate this way..

[ronansslynch]

i’ve fr been in a perpetual state of missing succession for two months now .. like my job is literally rewatch succession bc i cant part ways with it omg i’m sick

[hitomisuzuya]

Hii, may I ask for a fic where scara and reader are a pair of emo best friends listening to emo music, super loud! In her room while her parents are fighting? They've always been sexually curious and experimenting. Soo reader's sad, he says fuck it, gets on top, and starts grinding his knee against her clit?

Usually, they NEVER get too far, so the reader knows that he's committed when she moans.

Soo cunnilingus? Maybe they likee each other? Praise? Calling her parents dumb and just validating her complaints (like if u going to fight dont do it around your spawnling?) A little bit of 'we could do better than them' bc reader is lowkey scared of ending up like them???

Please ik this is a bit too detailed, im kinda venting lol. Please feel free to omit a bunch if you must.

-shyent💗

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. clit stimulation. cunnilingus. praise, validation, and comfort.

it wasn't too detailed at all. i hope this makes you feel better, hun❤️ i think we all can relate this more than we like to admit😞

you have your hands covering your ears, your eyes squeezed shut. not even the loud music playing in your room soothed you. your body was tense with restless anxiety.

and scaramouche couldn't stand it. he knew he needed to do something. anything. anything to get you to focus on him and not the sounds of your parents fighting downstairs. when you are focused on him, it was like he was the only thing in this world. you noticed nothing else but him.

he reached over and took your hands off of your ears. you'd told him once that you enjoyed the sound of his voice. he put his lips next to your ear. "i can take you somewhere else, if you want," he offered, moving closer to you on your bed.

you shook your head, turning the music down a little. "no, it's okay. it wouldn't really matter. i am still going to know that they are fighting," you would still be tense the same way be it here or at his house.

"i can go tell them to shut the fuck up," he offered, it was more of a way to get to you smile. because it he really would. he would open your door and shout at them to shut the fuck up. loudly. he didn't give a shit. and that's the exact reason why you smiled, if only a little.

"you know, they might shut up if they hear me making you moan," he tentatively posed the idea. more to see if you would crack another little smile, but at the same time, he was completely serious. his hands had gotten up your shirt and into your bra while you were making out with him the other day.

he sure made you moan when he started pinching and stroking your nipples. he fed off of it. his hand has been so close to dipping into your panties. he is so fucking in love with you he couldn't stand it. making you focus on him would calm you down.

and that was what you needed.

you need him.

"you think they might?" you asked. his eyes widened a little. his cock pulsed with the hope you were serious. there was only one way for him to find out.

"i think they might," scaramouche turned down the music, and put his hands on your shoulders. he felt you immediately relax a little the moment you felt his touch. he laid you down on your bed, drinking in the way you blushed as you looked up at him.

he counted himself lucky that you wore a skirt today. your skirt bunched up around your thighs as he got on top of you. tentatively at first, he started to rub his knee on your clit. it wasn't long before your breathing turned shaky sounding, your clit starting to swell and throb.

he shivered as your juices began to soak his knee. he increased the pressure, keening soft moans from your throat. he would've leaned down and kissed you had he not wanted to drink in your face starting to contort with pleasure.

you rocked your hips up, grinding your clit on his knee. he could see the whole world falling away from you, focusing only on him in a way that made his cock ache more. your panties sticking and unsticking around your clit added extra friction, hazing your senses with pleasure.

you have forgotten all about your parents.

reaching your hand up, you caressed his cheek. "scara, can you make me feel good?" you asked, letting out a louder moan as he twisted his knee on your clit.

scaramouche did not need to be asked twice. how many fantasies had he had about you that started off just like this. the amount of cum he spilled into his hands jacking off at night to thoughts of you said as much.

there was such a look of desperation in your eyes. desperation for him. you are depending on him, and scaramouche latched onto that. "your parents really are fucking stupid," he moved down between your legs, moving your panties aside. you blushed seeing his mouth hovering above your pussy.

his tongue swept out to part your folds. he'd lost count of times he'd jacked himself off thinking about you grinding your pussy on his mouth. he licked long slow stripes up and down your pussy, groaning as your taste saturated his tongue. "i can't have my precious pet being so tense all the time."

the blush on your cheeks darkened hearing his words. something about hearing him call you his precious pet made your clit swell and throb more. you shifted restlessly on your bed, your hips jerking up to grind on his tongue.

scaramouche wagged the tip of his tongue around your clit, making moans come from you instead of words. your hands found the back of his head, pushing his mouth down onto your pussy as you sought more friction.

"that's my good girl," his praise filled you with an arousing warmth. it was like something snapped in you. whimpering softly, you knew in that moment, you would do anything to hear it again.

"say it again, please!" you cried out, tugging on his hair. the pleasure coiling was so strong it made your eyes water, your thighs trembling as he latched his lips onto your clit.

scaramouche chuckled softly into your messy pussy, keeping his eyes focused on you so he didn't miss one twitch or contortion of pleasure. "my good, sweet girl," louder moans tore from your throat, your walls clenching empty around nothing. "we can do better than they can," he released your clit with a wet pop, licking his lips before focusing his tongue on your hole.

"i'm in love with you!" you suddenly cried out. the words came tumbling out of your mouth, his tongue felt that good working your pussy over. groaning, he prodded his tongue inside of you. "i've always been in love with you!"

he swirled his tongue inside of you. pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes. your hips bucked shamelessly into his mouth, enjoying the comforting way his fingers dug into your thighs possessively. "fuck me with your tongue, please."

the way you were starting to babble made his cock pulse and strain in his pants. scaramouche was sure your parents could hear you. and he fucking loved it. "go ahead, kitten. let them hear what real pleasure sounds like."

his tongue worked over your pussy with extra vigor, snapping the knot of your orgasm to curl tighter in your core. his thumbs skimmed over the insides of your thighs in encouragement, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you couldn't help it. scaramouche's tongue made you cunt sensitive, your release gushing onto his tongue suddenly. "so fucking sweet," he growled, eagerly lapping at your release like a starved dog.

he didn't take his mouth off of your pussy, tongue fucking you through your orgasm until you were breathless and shaking. when he kissed you, you didn't think it would be intimate tasting yourself on his tongue.

[mionemymind]

Lost in the Universe (Part 2)

Summary: The aftermath of Y/n being rescued from the alternate universe.

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing, Cursing, Jealousy

A/n: @tynix had requested a part two. And I wanted to post something since I JUST TURNED 23 BABES!! So I guess this is a birthday gift for me?? Hope y'all enjoy the fluff. Also, I love all the Candy Montgomery gifs that I keep seeing :)

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

Part 1

“I appreciate you teaching her how to control her powers, but we cannot have you going through different universes again,” Wanda complained into Y/n’s chest. Today was an off day and the couple decided to spend much-needed quality time together. Y/n slightly chuckled at Wanda’s pouty-ness, ever since they came back to their universe, Wanda had been feeling extra clingy. 

“You worry too much my love. There was no doubt in my mind that you would’ve found me.” Y/n tweaked her words a little as she remembered alternate Wanda’s words. “We’re tethered,” Y/n thought. She kissed her girlfriend’s forehead, continuing to run her fingers through Wanda’s hair. 

“How can I not worry? You try finding me throughout different universes.” Y/n chuckled more much to Wanda’s dismay. The redhead was more than anxious about the whole situation. She tried her best not to be so angry at America for the obvious accident, but not knowing what universe Y/n was in spiraled her to think the worst. 

“Well my love, you’re more powerful than me. So I would have a harder time getting to you.” Wanda rolled her eyes at the compliment but still smiled. “Not only that, I would’ve probably talked to other Wanda’s out there to help me find you.” 

“Speaking of, how was my counterpart? Was it freaky to see me in a different universe?” Y/n hummed for a bit, letting herself get lost at the thought of alternate Wanda. 

“I was really scared at first. You being the Scarlet Witch, I wasn’t sure if alternate Wanda had the same powers as you. Not only that, I begged in my heart that you were good too. I wouldn’t know how to deal with an evil Wanda - wait if she’s evil, she might be emo too - and your emo phase was pretty hot babe.” Wanda swatted Y/n’s chest as Y/n laughed at the obvious joke she said. Intertwining their hands, Y/n rubbed circles in Wanda’s palm, “But seriously…when I first got there she called me dekta like you. I almost thought it was you, however, something inside me could just feel that it wasn’t you.”

“So what happened?” Y/n sighed as she rubbed Wanda’s back. The redhead enjoyed the constant feeling of Y/n’s touch. “She called me out. Told me that I’m not her Y/n. Rather than giving me a hard time for being in her universe, she let me into her house and kind of relieved my anxiety.” 

Wanda smiled at the thought of her counterpart being nice to her girlfriend. Although Wanda could never imagine a world where she would hurt Y/n, she was just extra grateful to know Y/n never landed in that scenario. “Did you like her more than me?” Wanda joked. 

Y/n snorted at Wanda’s lame joke, “Well she did make me hot chocolate.” Wanda rolled her eyes again as she lightly hit Y/n’s chest one more time. “Keep hitting me woman, I’ll make America send me there again.” 

Wanda lifted her head and flashed her red eyes at Y/n. “Don’t you even dare.” Y/n smiled at her girlfriend’s obvious jealousy and gave her a small kiss. “I wouldn’t - plus the only reason I would want to is to help my counterpart get their shit together.” 

“What do you mean?” Y/n kissed Wanda once more before laying her head back onto the pillow. “Alternate Wanda said that alternate Y/n hasn’t confessed her feelings yet, which is annoying because they literally live on a farm together. How platonic can that shit even be?” 

“What if your counterpart was just as scared as you?” Y/n lingered back to the time before she confessed her feelings to Wanda. All the yearning and pent-up feelings were enough to compete with any love-struck idiot. “I can imagine that, but at the same time, I hadn’t bought a farm with you yet and she did.”

“You and this farm.” Wanda kissed Y/n's arm. “Should we get a place of our own?” 

“Where would you like to live?” Wanda thought about it, no particular location was coming to mind. “Something that doesn’t scream American capitalism.” 

“Italy farmlands?” Y/n moved her hand from Wanda’s back up to Wanda’s head, running her fingers through her hair again. “What made you think of that?” 

“I forgot the title, but I remember liking this movie that was located in the Italy farmlands.” Y/n kept racking her brain for the title, nothing came up though. “When you were searching for me, did you ever find alternate me’s?” 

“I found a couple. One was almost like you but two of them were drastically different in style so that helped a lot.” Wanda recalled the moment she almost mistook one of Y/n’s counterparts for her Y/n. But it all came back to that tethered feeling. 

“One of the Y/n’s was actually with their Wanda. It was fun to talk to a different version of myself. She was quick to tell me that I was in the wrong universe and tried to direct me to you.” 

“What if she thought you were there to steal the other version of me?” Y/n joked once more. “I wouldn’t want a different version of you. You’re it for me dekta.” Wanda got up once more and kissed Y/n slowly. “Don’t ever forget that.” 

“Never.” 

Alternate Universe

“Who’s the slut?” Wanda barely entered her house before the accusations were thrown at her by Y/n. “Excuse me?” Wanda had returned from the edge of their farm where counterpart Y/n was rescued from. 

“You heard me. Who. Is. The. Slut.” Y/n stood with her arms crossed, her eyes motioned to the two cups at the coffee table. Wanda rolled her eyes with a devilish smile, “You.” 

Making Y/n work for more answers, Wanda walked away to the kitchen. “Very funny Wanda,” Y/n mocked. “I wasn’t being funny,” Wanda batted her eyes innocently which annoyed Y/n even further. “Who the fuck was it?” Y/n was irritated beyond belief. She had come home from a mission hoping to see her crush just to find out that some bitch came over and drank her supply of hot chocolate with “her girl”. 

“Well, she’s this very hot girl,” Wanda said as she played dumb, she walked slowly to Y/n and continued, “She’s very charming and kind too - actually, she helped me with the farm today.” This angered Y/n beyond belief. Who the fuck comes to her home and manages to steal her girl within hours? She had a five-year plan that’s been in motion since the day she met Wanda. 

With one last step, Wanda was in Y/n’s space, wrapping her arms around her neck and Y/n held her hips. “Do you like her?” Wanda thought about it for a second, before saying, “Something like that.” Wanda enjoyed the feeling of messing with Y/n, especially with something so harmless. 

However, Y/n could not take it anymore. Frustrated, Y/n stepped out of Wanda’s grasp. “Well, I hope you live happily ever after,” Y/n said sarcastically. Before she could walk any further, Wanda grabbed her hand and pulled Y/n back into her arms. She rolled her eyes, “You are so oblivious.” 

Not wanting to wait any further, Wanda confidently kissed Y/n, feeling the tether that connected them ignite with a new fire, a new love. Y/n reacted swiftly as Wanda jumped and wrapped her legs around Y/n’s waist. “More,” Y/n begged in her head, her knees were growing weak, but she needed more. 

Wanda abruptly cut the kiss off, pushing Y/n slightly back as she moved forward, eager for more. “Will you finally admit that you’re in love with me?” Y/n grinned as she kissed Wanda’s cheek, “I had a plan.” 

“Oh yeah? It took somebody coming over to finally rile you up.” 

“Speaking of, who the fuck was it?” Wanda laughed as Y/n sternly asked. 

“You’ll never guess.”

Taglist: @halobaby  @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

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[binniebakery]

(What's The) Hot Topic?

HotTopicWorker!Gyu x Fem!Reader, Strangers to Lovers(?), Suggestive! ♡ Summary: In search for a birthday gift for your friend, you stop by your local Hot Topic where you stick out like a sore thumb. A certain employee sees a pretty girl in need of his assistance, so who is Beomgyu to say no? (In which emo gyu takes a liking to the girl dressed in delicate ribbons and bows.) ♡ Warnings: Things move a little fast here, makeout with a stranger, cursing, reader gets called fem nicknames, etcccc not proofread! ♡ A/N: ty for the request! I got so motivated to write this I hopped on my pc so quick LMAO (this user loves oreo beomgyu with a passion n will do anything to write for him) so more coquette x txt !!!! lmk if u guys want me to do other members too! Hope u enjoy~

The mall was quieter than usual today. A perfect time for you to show up in your cute heeled boots and winter coat, perfectly lined with white fur and ribbons. The sound of your shoes clicking mixing in with the atmosphere of the mall. You found your way to the store you were looking for. As you stood in front you stared at your phone with furrowed eyebrows. How were you supposed to find Yeonjun’s gift again? You walked in with eyes glued to your text messages. Nirvana, yes. You wanted a Nirvana shirt for your good friend Yeonjun’s birthday. Easy right? Or maybe he wouldn’t like that? It was hard to figure out what he had and what he didn’t have in his collection. You bit your lip as you looked at the t-shirt section in the back of the dark store. You could practically feel the stare of another shopper which made your uneasiness grow. Though you couldn’t blame them, you sort of stood out like a sore thumb. Pretty pearled headband with light ribbons tied, and a purse in the same color to match. Your whole outfit screamed sweet pastels and spring while you stood next to the bloody horror movie merchandise. You sighed in relief as you saw the previously mentioned customer get helped by an employee. Yet to your luck, you were left standing waiting like a lost deer. Maybe you should’ve just ordered something online– “Hey there, has anyone helped you yet?”

You turn to see a taller figure standing by you, his black long hair chopped into a wolf cut with platinum blonde highlights to further highlight his pale skin. He was a guy your age for sure, and he had quite an eccentric appearance. Which made him even more attractive. “Hi! Um yes sorry, I do need help with something if you don’t mind? I’m looking for a gift for a friend. I don’t really have the same style so..” you trailed off, noticing how his eyes look over your figure, a tinge of pink blooming on his ears. “Sure thing. Just tell me what kind of stuff your friend likes and I can help you, pretty girl. Name’s Beomgyu.” he grinned. You felt your heart nearly stop as you choked out an “Ah! I’m y/n.. th- thanks..” and proceeded to show him Yeonjun’s list of favorite artists and demands for his birthday. “Hm. I think I have the perfect thing for him. Follow me please.” you watch him swiftly turn around as he walks deeper into the back of the store… into the employees-only room? You stood there dumbfounded, were you supposed to go in there too? Was this a normal thing for Hot Topic? You hardly came to the store but you swear the employees-only room should be for.. Well, employees only. “Don’t worry doll, you can come back here.” He chuckles as he watches your big eyes scan around nervously. You nod and walk in with him, the door closing behind you. The room was dim, a single light bulb being the only source of light for the two of you. It wasn't too large of a room, with an employee bathroom towards the end of it, a desk with a computer sitting in the corner, and tons of shelves filled with extra merchandise waiting to be set up. Beomgyu hummed as he dug through the boxes with various artists’ names labeled on them. The room was quiet and the atmosphere felt thick. You played with the ribbons on your soft coat as you waited for him to find what he was looking for. “I have a question for you. You ever visit this store?” Beomgyu asked as he dug further, you tilted your head at the question. Was he trying to say something..? “Yes.. but I’m not really a common customer..” You nervously laugh and Beomgyu stands up with a set of items in his hands. “Mhm, I figured. No offense, but you really stick out in here. That dumbass was staring at you like you were a zoo animal.” He laughed. “Though I mean that with no offense- I wouldn’t blame him. You’re a pretty girl y’know?” He smiled as he handed you the merch in his hands. Your face flushed at the compliment. “Ah, thank you. You’re really kind.” You smile. Neither of you move. You’re looking at the floor, you really want to say something more. Ask him for his number, tell him he’s attractive as hell, or that you want to just stay in here a little longer. Alone with him. Suddenly, you feel a hand stroke a strand of your hair. You look up to see Beomgyu admiring your soft locks with gentle eyes. “Such a pretty girl.. You have a boyfriend?” He tilts his head, lips forming a smirk with tongue in cheek. You could almost pass out. Your eyes were locked on Beomgyu’s expression, his face scanning yours as he waited for your response. You could tell he was taking his time analyzing your features. You felt yourself shudder under his intense stare, you shook your head. “No actually.. I don’t..” Beomgyu’s smile widened. “Really? An angel like you? Surely I’m not your type though, someone like me with a angel like you?” “Well..” You looked away, staring at Yeonjun’s present that was still in your hands. He did have a point. You were just a sweet little thing, dressed in bows and frills, while Beomgyu wore ripped jeans and dark shirts with multiple band pins, all while sporting multiple bandaids from his skating endeavors. “I could say the same about you…Beomgyu.” His name sounded like candy coming from your glossy pink lips. He just had to hear you say it more. Beomgyu decides he’s had enough and closes the gap between you, pulling you in for a kiss.

His lips are warm and soft, leaving you craving for more. His hands snake their way around your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. You find yourself tilting your head, deepening the kiss and he groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him. “Wanna hear you say my name..” he mumbles against your lips and your mind is growing fuzzy. “B- Beomgyu..” you whisper and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth the second you say his name. You spend minutes like this, his hands roaming your warm and soft coat, your fingers tracing the choker on his neck. Yeonjun’s gifts long forgotten on the ground. When you both finally separate for air, Beomgyu presses his forehead against yours, admiring the way your eyes have darkened, pretty lashes glistening in the dim room’s light. “I get off in an hour babydoll. You want my number?” You find yourself nodding profusely and he smirks. “I’ll see you when I get off then.” “Promise?” You tilt your head cutely, voice soft and sweet like cotton candy, and he feels himself drawn more to you by the second. You separate from each other's arms and he helps you pick up your items. After all, you still had to head to check out. “I prom-” The door swings open as Beomgyu’s coworker walks in. “Beomgyu! What are you doing? There’s like two customers out there and- oh what-” The slightly taller male who’s nametag read Soobin tilts his head in confusion. His brows knit together as he sees your slightly disheveled hair and Beomgyu’s face smeared in your pink lipgloss. “Oh my- get the fuck out of here! Jesus man, it makes sense for Taehyun to pull something like this but you?” he groans as Beomgyu’s shit-eating grin moves him to the side, walking out with your wrist in his hand, guiding you to the counter to pay.

[turvi]

Hi! Shortcake here, i j wanted 2 request a rodrick x sweet reader, the kinda girl that rlly enjoys pink and skirts and things like that. Ty, have a nice day! <3

First of all, love the nickname..second thanks for the request. I hope you like this.

"Rodrick, don't blink."

"Because you are literally poking my eyes with your finger," Rodrick argued. He had agreed to let Y/n do his makeup today. He was amazed at the amount of makeup she had and was just ready to be her guinea pig.

"I'm being very gentle Rodrick, if you could just stay still then my fingers won't poke you."

He melted at her sweet voice. His eyes fluttered at her gentle touch. They were so different yet they were made for each other. He smirked as an idea crossed his mind. "You wanna use glitter next?"

Y/n gasped "Would you let me?"

Rodrick just wanted to smush her cheeks and kiss all over her face. She looked extra cute today in her all-pink attire and a matching hairband. "Of course, I would." He took out the glitter pouch from her hot pink makeup kit and handed it to her.

Rodrick couldn't help but love her more as she giggled and started applying glitter to his cheeks.

She gasped "Oh my gosh Rodrick you look so pretty."

Rodrick smushed her cheeks and smacked kisses across her blushing cheeks. "Thank you lovie."

..................................................

The next day Rodrick would glare at anyone who even tried to make a sound when they saw Rodrick in full makeup. He has always been protective of Y/n's feelings since day one.

The boys in school who called her childish and pretentious for her all-pink attire would don a purple bruise on their faces the next day.

When Rodrick volunteered to teach Y/n to play the drums he painted his spare drumsticks pink, and when she found out she kissed him until his cheeks turned to her favourite colour.

He somehow convinced Susan to get him a pair of pink socks so he could match with Y/n when she wore her own pair of pink socks.

Sure her pink aesthetic clashed with his emo aesthetic, but nothing makes him happier than seeing his girl happy when they match.

..........................................................

Once Rodrick had visited her home and he was genuinely impressed how she managed to get everything in pink and still make her room look good.

All her shampoos, her dresses and even her pillow were in various shades of pink. Rodrick nicknamed her doll because she resembled a Barbie doll. He even managed to get her a Barbie doll at Christmas that he claimed looked like her. In return, she dressed up her Ken like him, and he made sure she placed it next to her Barbie doll.

Every time he would visit her he would first make sure his Ken doll is with her Barbie doll.

Rodrick started collecting random things just because they are pink-coloured. Movie tickets, guitar picks, flowers, bottle lids etc. He would collect them and give them to Y/n the next time they meet.

He never thought he would like the colour so much, but he would bring all the pinks in the world to her just to see her smile.

A/N: REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED IF YOU LIKE THIS.

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 5

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

Series Masterlist : Main Masterlist : Logan Masterlist

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Chapter summary: Past. You get sick Present. You can't help fall into him.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.6 words

a/n: Mean girls reference for mean girls day1!!

Before

This was terrible. Absolutely awful. You were feverish, dizzy, nauseous, diarrhea… all of it. You knew you should say you can’t work… you were barely functioning, you didn’t want to get your kids sick, but your anxiety simply didn’t allow it. When Charles greeted you this morning, you felt awful and considered asking if maybe it was possible for you to potentially go to your room early today…

And yet, when he greeted you and asked how you were, you lied and said a cheery, ‘wonderful!’.

For the last few weeks, you and Logan had lunch together almost every day. You started making extra for him and bringing him a fork, just in case he comes. This last week, however, he hasn’t shown. You didn’t blame him. What a man doesn’t want after kissing a woman is for her to freak out, lock herself in a changing room for 20 minutes and cry, then proceed to not speak as he drives her home. Not your best moment, if you were honest.

But it had taken you by surprise, and with a myriad of guilt swirling in your head, you’d worked yourself into a panic attack. It was happening so fast, so fucking fast and you weren’t ready. 

Logan was… you wanted him, you wanted him so fucking. The strong muscles busting out of his wife beater, the way his jeans hung low on his hips, the way that if you asked him to reach for something for you, you could see a trail of hair leading to something making you blush. Sinful thoughts swirled your head, always making your fingers trail over the cotton panties on under your night dress… but you couldn’t fathom him actually wanting you until that moment. When your lay in bed, pj’s looking like something out of little house on the prairie rather than the lingerie you were sure a man like Logan was used to. He was probably drowning in pussy, women who were far prettier and sexier than you.

Women who didn’t come with baggage

Women who didn’t do the things you had done.

It was no wonder he was avoiding you. He could slide himself into one of the many beautiful, mentally stable women here. He’d probably gone and done that as soon as you’d gotten home, realize you weren’t worth the- Oh fuck.

Rushing to the bathroom, you throw up, making it quick before cleaning up and getting it to gether for class. You could make it through the day. It would be fine.

It was not.

Most of your classes you just gave them reading time, or to work on other school work which they were grateful for. Occasionally, someone would come up and ask a question as you did your best to avoid breathing on them; if someone got sick because of you, you’d never forgive yourself, but your fear of rejection made it difficult to express your feelings. For all the talk about women being the emotional ones, somehow you were never allowed to express them. Even as a child, you were hit for crying, until you learned that voicing a need was disrespectful. You wouldn’t disrespect mr. xavier like that.

As your students filed out before lunch, you had grand plans of napping on your desk during lunch before you straight up passed out. Those plans proved silly when Logan walked into your room, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Logan, I’m sorry-” You were about to apolgize for the panic attack, but he started talking first.

“I know you probably hate me-” 

You both stop and blink. 

“No, I’m sorry. You took me out trying to do something nice-”

“No, no,” He interrupted. Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I… shouldn't have done that, the kiss, I mean.”

Your face feels warm at the mention, but that honestly didn’t mean much. You’ve been warm all day. Still, you didn’t want Logan to think you were some crazy homeschooled jungle freak. All you wanted was to just be normal.

You try to stand. “That’s s-sweet of you…” That attempt didn’t get far, feeling dizzy as the room swirls around you. Vaguely, you can hear Logan call your name in a question, but it’s hard to hear over the muffled sound in your ears. For a moment, you’re falling, then rising again. Logan had you in his arms, and you cling to his plain white shirt as you come back to it. He’s already carrying you out of the room.

*

Logan is aware of the attention on them. Prying eyes of teachers and whispers from students, gossiping about the pretty little teacher in the arms of the local asshole. No one would get it. No one understood what he felt for you, not when he barely understood it himself. He came to apologize, to ask for things to go back to normal as if he could ever be normal about you, but the distance was killing him. He needed those lunch dates. He needed watching movies with you in the lounge tucked away on the other side of the couch like you were nervous. His gentle baby doll, needing him to guide her. He couldn’t live like he was now, not after tasting you.

Then he saw you there, looking flushed and unwell, and thank god he moved closer to you because you passed out into his arms. 

“Logan, what the hell did you-” Scott tried to talk to him, but Logan brushes passed with you in his arms.

“She’s sick. Can you figure out someone to take over the class?”

But Scott was insufferable, putting his hand on Logan’s arm to stop him. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“What the fuck does it look like?” Logan snapped, turning around quickly. He regretted it when your little hand tugged on his shirt, groaning. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna get you to bed.” He looked over at Scott with a glare. “As soon as Mr. White knight lets me go.”

If Scott could take off his glasses, Logan was sure he’d see his eyes roll. “Just- fuck, why is she unconcious?”

“Because I drugged her.” Logan deadpans and waits for Scott to open his mouth. “No, dumbass she’s sick. She’s fucking burning up.”

To his horror, Scott reached for you, and on instinct Logan pulled away. When Scott glared at him, Logan aquiessed.

“Jesus… that’s not good…”

“Yeah, it’s not, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take her to bed so she can rest.”

Logan felt Scotts eyes on his as he walked towards your room.

“Make good choices, Logan…”

*

Logan didn’t leave your side the rest of the day except to get you water. He called Remy to get your medicine, and the man showed up in a jiffy trying to fuss over you, but Logan practically kicked him out, saying you needed to rest. Truth was, Logan didn’t want anyone else touching you. You didn’t need anyone else, you only needed him. He was gonna take care of you. Logan kept a respectful distance as you sweated your fever out, sitting on the chair in the room and watching Tv after you deliriously requested bobs burgers. This was the last thing he expected you to watch.

He never touched you anywhere unnecessary, and when you asked for his help getting to the bathroom, he closed the door behind him to give you privacy. When he heard you washing your hands, Logan panicked a bit at the idea of you standing without his help in this state, and entered the bathroom to walk you back to your bed.

“I’ll be okay, Logan. I can walk by myself now. I'm not a doll.”

“Yeah, you are. My dolly.” He resisted the urge to kiss the top of your head as he tucked you into bed again.

“Lo?” You mumble, some song playing on the show in the background.

“Yeah, baby doll?” 

“Can you lay with me?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. It was a step in the wrong direction, crossing boundaries that were blurring every day… but he could never say no to you. Not ever.

Which is why when Charles came in to check on you, and he found you asleep on Logan’s stomach, he knew he was in trouble.

“Staying away from her, are me?”

“Listen, Chuck I know it looks bad but she’s-”

Charles voice remained cool, but Logan knew he was in trouble. “Sick, yes, I’ve heard. Cyclops has informed me she fell sick. I’m glad you are taking care of her, by surely Gambit could have handled it.”

“Remy don’t know what the fuck she needs.” Logan snapped, sounding overly defensive. Yeah, logically Remy probably could’ve handled it, but he doesn’t know you like he does. Logan was the only person who could give you what you need.

“I believe Gambit is her friend. He would take care of her.”

“Cut to the chase, wheel. Am I in trouble?”

There was a pause of silence, Charles glancing to the TV, then back to Logan. “I told you before, I won’t tell you what to do. But has she told you about her past.?”

Logan swallowed, a bit of anger bubbling up in his at the little knowledge you gave him. “Some. She was homeschool, weird church stuff. Teen marriage.”

He nodded. “Her husband beat her, quite severely. Frankly, I can’t believe she survived it all. Parents, courts, police, medical, at every corner of her life this child was failed by the system, and she is a child, Logan.”

“She’s twenty thr-”

“And you still have 150 years on her, give or take. And considering how she was raised and the lock and key her husband kept on her, mentally she’s younger. I took a chance on her because she needed it. She has a good heart and is skilled at what she does even if she doesn’t know how to divide or what a mitochondria is. Just as I’ve taken in everyone here who is lost, a stray, abandoned by the ones who claimed to love them and cast aside by the world. There are many beautiful women here, Logan. You are a handsome man. You do not need to go after the girl about to fall apart.

But he didn’t understand. Charles could never understand. He didn’t get that Logan didn’t want the other women here, he didn’t want anyone but you. You were meant for him, and he was meant for you.

After

It was getting harder and harder to pretend that you weren’t pregnant. Harder to act like you were fine and getting through the day.

Harder to avoid Logan without making it obvious you were avoiding him, when all the students and teachers were well aware you and him used to eat lunch together and spend most of your free time with him or Remy.

Harder to ignore when you were vomiting in the morning. It was bad, it was so bad and you didn’t want to think about the future, but this was forcing you to content with the fact life was inside you. You didn’t want this baby… not like this, anyway. You had dreamed of this life, even dreamed of it with Logan. A baby in your, happy little job at the school, Logan by your side… You didn’t understand why he did what he did to you, what you did wrong. Why he had to disappoint you like everyone had. 

When the door to your bathroom opened, you didn’t have to look up. Soon, large hands were wrapped around your hair as you threw up, and you didn’t have it in you to tell him to go away. He wouldn’t listen anyway, he never did.

Logan could smell when you were throwing up, always lurking nearby and with his heightened smell, he was always on you. So, this had become the routine. He was allowed near you for this. Logan would hold your hair, rub your back and whisper gentle words while you got it out and for a moment you’d pretend, pretend he hadn’t violated you, that you weren’t scared of him. Pretend like you were a cute little married couple awaiting a little bundle of joy and attending church and he was the love you thought he could be, protecting you and caring for you. When it was over, Logan helps you brush your teeth and wash your mouth.

As you stare in the mirror, you don’t recognize yourself. You looked tired. Thinner. A mess as Logan stood behind you brushing your teeth. That’s when the bubble began to crack and you remembered that you let your rapist touch you again. That you were just as weak and pathetic as you had alway been. That you were trapped, always trapped, doomed by your body and your womb and your heart that was always bleeding for some sad soul and now you were beginning to rely on Logan again.

He wiped your mouth with his sleeve, rugged flannel gentle on your lips. Sweet as he ever was.

“I have to go, for a bit.” When you looked at him through the mirror, he clarified. “Maybe a month. Maybe less…”

You blink. “No.”

He blinks right back. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to do what you did and then just leave me alone!”

“I’m not.” Logan turned you towards him, and you hated that you just wanted him to hug you. “I’m coming back. It’ll give you some space, and when I get back we can talk, and… we can figure things out… and we can get you to a doctor, dolly.”

The idea of going to a doctor again, especially another OB/GYN, was scary… the idea that soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide what was happening was even scarier. But the idea of doing this alone, without Logan?

“No.” Your eyes fill with tears, already partially wet from the puke. “I need you now! You don’t get to just break me and walk away!”

There's silence for a beat, but then he sighs. You can see a softening of his features, maybe a little smile. He was happy you were depending on him. You knew you were falling down the wrong path, but it was so hard not to. You parents said this was who you were meant to be, that it was biological, Gods plan for men and women… were they right all along? “There’s a girl, western Washington area, pretty rural. Mutant. Her family is…. They think she’s possessed. Performing exorcisms on her. She’s not gonna live… Kurt and I are gonna help her, hopefully bring her back. She needs help, dolly. No one helped you, but we’re gonna help her.”

Logan knew that would get you. A girl in a strict religious family being abused? Yeah, it was a chapter out of your book. Most of the chapters, honestly.

You sat back against the counter, pajama dress still on. You close your eyes. “What if I end the pregnancy? You just gonna do it again?”

Slowly, he raises a hand to your face, and despite his efforts to be careful you still flinch. “What happened will never, ever happen again, Dolly. I could never really hurt you, don’t you understand that? You won’t get an abortion. I know it. But we’re gonna figure this out. You, me, our child.” A hand on your stomach. “A family.”

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[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up to Pierce the Veil, this morning.

He buries his head in his pillow and screams as loud as he can.

Of course, it does nothing. The music is playing inside his head, because his father is the most annoying being ever to pop into existence. Apollo’s children get whatever song suits their father’s current mood — not a good sign that it’s emo today, fuck — blasted directly into their cranium as the sun crests over the horizon, every single day, just so they know how much their dear papa is thinking of them.

Will, however, is head counsellor. And as head counsellor, he gets his daily brain torture exactly one half hour before the sun rises, because fuck him, apparently.

Has he not been through enough.

He screams again, quieter this time, conscientious of his still-sleeping siblings. The song does not go away. It will not go away until he is on his feet, any chance of unconsciousness having swiftly betrayed him.

The creaky floorboards groan in protest as he slams onto them, not bothering to remove himself from his blankets before rolling onto the floor. He considers remaining there, in the fetal position, strangling himself in his tangled sheets, for twelve point three seconds. Then he remembers he has a stupid shift in the stupid infirmary that he stupid runs, and forces himself to get up.

“Being alive is a prison,” he laments hoarsely. It has, tragically, considerably less effect when there is no one awake to hear his complaints, because it is four forty-two in the godsdamn mcshitting fucking morning.

His father is not getting so much as a grape as an offering today. He’s going to scrape an entire plate for Auntie Artemis.

He takes an extra-long time brushing his teeth, spitefully determined to be two minutes late for his shift. No one will notice, because no one is awake. The thought soothes him.

Nine minutes to his shift, he forces himself out of the bathroom and pads over to his dresser. He has no surgeries planned, today, so he’s not gonna bother with the scrubs, and he’s gotta do inventory, so he needs pockets. He picks out his head medic shirt and his lucky cargo shorts and starts to dress himself, squeezing his eyes shut to try and force his muscles into keeping him awake. He can do this. It’s fine. He’s got training with Nico today, so that’s something he can look forward to. If he can distract Kayla and her teasing mouth with training Gracie, he can ogle all he pleases as the son of Hades attempts, for the ninetieth time, to teach him how to use a sword without beheading himself. It’ll be great.

He barely manages to swallow back a shriek when he misses the leg hole for his shorts and goes sprawling.

Fuck mornings. This is an omen. He should go the fuck back to sleep.

As if hearing his thoughts, the stupid song in his head blasts louder. It’s hard to make out the words with all the screaming and drums and all, but he’s almost certain he hears the lyrics, don’t you dare!

“Al-right,” he snaps, scowling. “I’m going, I’m going. Lemme get my damn shirt on, yeesh.”

It takes him a second to find the head hole in the dark — because the godsdamn sun is not up yet — but after a minute of fumbling he manages.

He realizes, the second he tugs it over his chest, that something is wrong.

“What the —”

Now, Will orders his shirts in bulk. He has to. He’s the only one wearing them, after all, and the sheer amount of times per day that he is covered in bodily fluids is a number he chooses, for sake of his sanity, not to count. He is well used to the process of ordering his shirts along with other linen and infirmary supplies. Every fortnight, without fail, he orders a set of orange Head Medic t-shirts one size too big, because it gives him a little breathing room without being too baggy.

When he pulls on this shirt, however, it practically clings to his skin. He can practically feel the fabric groaning as it stretches over his broad shoulders.

And, worst of all — the hem barely brushes the edge of his ribcage.

“Austin,” he growls, practically lunging for his drawer to inspect the rest of them.

As he suspected, each one of them has shrunk. If it weren’t for the Head Medic decal printed across them in bold, Will would assume his laundry was mixed up with Yan’s.

“Why do I still try to assign him laundry duty,” he hisses, cursing himself for his oversight. He’s been busy lately — he didn’t do a very thorough job writing this week’s chore chart. He must’ve put Austin on laundry, and Austin is never allowed to do laundry, because for whatever reason, no matter what he does, he ruins someone’s clothes.

“Fuck!”

His watch beeps at him, LED display reading five o’clock. His shift has already started. All of his shirts are shrunk, and he’s out of time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He shoves his feet into a pair of flipflops, sprinting for the infirmary. Hopefully, today is on the warmer side, or else he’s going to freeze, on top of looking ridiculous. Fuck.

———

Thankfully, the first couple hours of his shift are blissfully empty and quiet. With no one to distract him, he manages to finish the laundry list of chores he’s been putting off the last week — nectar and ambrosia restock, cabinet reordering, file sorting, et cetera. He has the place spick and span in under ninety minutes.

Unthankfully, he starts to get bored fast.

Feeling an awful lot like his father, which is unfortunate, he begins to slip into what his siblings call “the dramatics” (and what Will calls rational emotional responses, but, take some, lose some). Without his permission, he begins to glance at the door every few minutes, disappointed every time no one is there. He spins around his desk chair, kicking half-heartedly at the desk. He sighs, once or twice, with a tone that he would call tastefully bored and Lou Ellen might label as histrionic. After a half hour, there is on his face, Will cannot deny, a pretty big pout.

In his defense, he can hear the sounds of the rest of the camp waking up through the open windows: laughter, cursing, yawning, Drew chasing her siblings around the camp with her knife, shrieking, promises to return stolen hair straighteners, begging for mercy. Morning sounds. Familiar sounds.

“Ugh,” he mumbles, sinking back into his chair. Then, for good measure, he frowns harder and repeats with more feeling: “Ugh.”

As if summoned by his yearning, disparaging loneliness, the little bell by the door rings as someone stumbles in. Will brightens, jumping to his feet.

“Hi!

“Hey, Will, could I get some ambrosia, Sebastian stole Drew’s straightener and she — woah.” Mitchell freezes. “Um. Woah. Huh?”

Will rushes over to the supply cabinet. “Yeah, of course! I heard the screeching, did she stab him fully or just slash him? Should I come over? Should he come here?”

“Hnngh,” Mitchell says.

Will frowns, hands stilling on the ambrosia. “Mitchell? Are you okay?” He tilts his head. “You’re — really red, dude, maybe you should —”

“I! Hngh! Am fine!” Mitchell shouts, scrambling back from Will’s outstretched hand. He won’t meet Will’s eyes. “Actually, Will, you know what? Sebastian needs to learn, actually, and he’s barely even bleeding, so I’m gonna —” He stumbles backwards, knocking his head into the doorframe. “I’m just going to! You keep that, Will, I’ll chest you — see! I will see you later! Goodbye!”

He turns away and flees, leaving Will alone, again, with a container of ambrosia hanging limply in his fingers.

“That was weird,” he mumbles, and turns to put it back away.

———

Mitchell is far from the first Incident — capitalised, because they are indeed Incidents — of the day.

Maybe a half hour after Mitchell leaves, two more Aphrodite campers walk in. Will smiles, turning to greet them, but before he can even say anything, they shriek in unison and sprint off. As silly as he knows it is, a bubble of hurt begins to bloom in his chest — is everyone actually avoiding him today? Or does it just feel like they are?

(The ADHD makes it hard to tell. He gets his feelings hurt really easily, and constantly has to remind himself what is and isn’t rejection. It doesn’t help that he sometimes feels trapped, as one of the only campers with vitakinesis and therefore constantly in the infirmary. It’s hard not to feel a little isolated. But usually, he’s got his friends and his siblings to remind him he’s not alone. Hopefully, today is just a fluke.)

Nobody else comes into the infirmary during breakfast. Will eats the oatmeal one of the nymphs brings him, smiling at her and thanking her profusely — he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. She leaves pretty quickly, too, but a lot of the nymphs are kinda squeamish around the infirmary, so Will doesn’t think too much of it. In fact, he‘s put most of his shitty morning behind him until Kayla walks in for the start of her shift.

“Huh,” she says, after a solid minute of staring.

Will shifts defensively. “What?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just preparing for our day, brother dear, pay no mind.”

“You are so strange,” he mutters, but he’s long since given up on trying to understand her.

For the next hour, things are almost normal. He and Kayla chat as the freshen up the linen on the cots, treating the odd camper who comes in for lava wall burns or sword scrapes. The infirmary is rarely ever empty once the camp activities start, but in terms of numbers, today’s a pretty slow day. Will starts to feel fidgety pretty quickly.

“Oh, ho ho ho.”

Will grins when he hears his friend’s voice, shoving his clipboard aside and standing to greet them. Lou Ellen and Cecil linger by the door, matching grins on their faces. (Which, usually, would be cause for great alarm, but Will is so bored and so happy to see them that he decides, just this one time, that whomever they’ve just robbed will just have to be an unfortunate victim. Hopefully it wasn’t anything too valuable.)

“Hey, guys! Please tell me you can stay for a bit. I’ve still got a few hours left of my shift and I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course we’ll stay, Willy,” Cecil says innocently. “How could we refuse with such a wonderful view?”

Will is too happy to bother correcting him about his name.

There’s not much to do, so the three of them sit by the nurse’s station and chat. If anyone asks, they’re talking strategy for the upcoming capture the flag game, but really, Lou Ellen heard Damien White from Nike and Chiara Benvenuti from Tyche arguing behind the canoe shed again, so they’re talking shit.

“I honestly don’t get what she sees in him,” Lou Ellen whispers, and Will is nodding fervently, “Right? I mean if she’s happy then good for her, obviously, but come on —”

“Hey, Will?”

Will leans around Cecil, looking for who called him. A group of maybe nine campers crowd around the door, all standing behind one of Cecil’s sisters, Julia. Many of them are giggling.

“We, uh, totally need your help.”

“Here we go,” mutters Cecil. Lou Ellen starts snickering.

Will hardly hears them, absentmindedly grabbing his stethoscope and toolkit.

“What happened? Was there a fight, do you need —”

“Rosamie’s leg is, like, super sprained.” Julia gestures to a younger girl behind her. “We got her this far, but she needs you to lift her to a cot so she can rest.”

“Hermes’ fucking wings,” Cecil says under his breath.

“O….kay,” Will says slowly. “Did you…all need to come for that?”

“My heartbeat is all weird,” pipes up a boy from the back. “I need you to look at that.”

“And I need a band-aid!”

“I broke a nail.”

Their voices start clambering over each other, rapidly getting louder. Will holds up a hand, silencing them.

“Okay, okay, I hear you. If you’re fine to walk, head on over to a cot, I’ll be with you in a minute. Julia, can you help Rosamie —”

“Can’t,” blurts Julia quickly. She holds up her arm after a beat if hesitation. “Totally pulled a muscle. You’ll have to carry her.”

Will furrows his brow. It’s Mitchell all over again.

“Okay, I guess.”

Unwilling to have a group of campers loitering by the doorway any longer, Will gets it over with, scooping up Rosamie with a hand under her knees and behind her back and carrying her to the nearest cot. Will knows that everyone experiences pain differently, but she seems awfully giggly for someone whose leg is apparently sprained.

A cacophony of giggles erupt as he sets her down.

“Gods, Will, do you work out?”

Will flushes. “I do the same training as everyone else, I guess.”

“Cool.”

Will looks at them strangely. How is that cool? He glanced back at his friends, eyebrows raised, but they’re hunched over the station, badly biting back laughter.

“Maybe everyone’s got the flu, or something?” he mutters to himself, even though he knows that’s not true.

He makes quick work of healing the group of campers. Most of them are fine — he couldn’t even find a sprain on Rosamie, but wrapped her knee anyway in case there was more pain. They left as quickly as they came, giggling to each other and running down the porch.

Without even a minute between, another group of campers barged in, just as giggly as the first.

The rest of his shift is chaotic. People practically pour into the infirmary, all with minor, barely there injuries — and all of them demand Will’s help.

Will is no stranger to busy days, but this is nothing he’s ever seen.

“I don’t get it,” Will remarks to his sister in a rare minute of calm, totally bewildered. “It’s like everyone’s suddenly got glass bones.”

Kayla blinks at him. He stares back at her, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” she drawls, after a minute. She looks him up and down. “What a deeply confounding mystery this is.”

Twelve campers rush in before he can ask her what she’s talking about.

By the time Will manages to escape, it’s an hour past the end of his shift, and he’s crawling out the window in the back office of the Big House to avoid the crowd of people at the front door.

“Solace? What are you doing?”

Will yelps, losing his delicate balance and falling face first into the flowerbed. Low, raspy laughter curls around the air, and Will goes bright red.

“Just let me pass away,” he mutters, curling around a crushed daisy.

Nico snorts. “You are such a drama queen. Here.”

After another quick second of wallowing, Will takes his offered hand, letting him pull him to his feet. His shorts are smeared in dirt and there are flowers in his hair. Frantically, and uselessly, he tries to brush himself off.

“…Damn,” says Nico slowly. When Will chances a peek, he finds his friend looking him over, slowly dragging his eyes from head to toe. If at all possible, he goes even redder. “So it is true. You are walking around half-naked today.” Nico grins, wide and wolfish and teasing, and Will genuinely has to grab the wall behind him to keep upright. “No wonder the rest of camp has been so empty.”

“Is that what it is?” Will cries. “The infirmary has been — packed! All day! And no one has been hurt! They’ve been — they came for —”

“I think they came to watch the show, Solace.”

Will lets out an agonised wail. Alongside the flush so bright it puts his father’s cows to shame, he feels himself start to glow, like an flaming beacon of idiot.

“They’ve been demanding I carry them around places!” He looks at Nico, aghast. “I’ve been doing it!”

For a moment, Nico tries bravely and valiantly to keep a straight face. But then Will remembers the camper who told him he lost feeling in his hands and asked Will to hold his biceps to try and get them back, and his face must absolutely crumple in mortification, because Nico loses it.

“Zeus, Hera, and Hades,” he gasps, doubled over. “Oh my gods, Will, your face, you —” He cracks up again. Genuine tears pour down his face. Sometimes he manages to calm himself down, but then all he has to do is look at Will’s horrified grimace and he breaks down again, until he is literally writhing on the ground, holding his stomach.

“Oh — oh gods, I’m gonna — I think I’m gonna throw up —”

“I hope you choke on it,” Will says hotly. “I won’t help you. I will let you die. You’re a horrible friend.”

Nico shrieks again. Will has never seen him laugh this hard, ever, which is wildly unfair because he’s been practicing jokes with Piper in an attempt to see him smile more often, and this is what finally gets him?

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t, Solace,” Nico sighs, finally starting to calm down for real. The smile on his face doesn’t go anywhere. “Help me up.”

Will pouts. “Whatever.” He should leave Nico there to rot, but he reluctantly clasps their palms together and yanks him upright. He goes to pull away, but Nico squeezes his wrist, holding fast.

Will stares at him with wide eyes. Slowly, his wide smile thins into a crooked, downright dangerous smirk.

Will goes weak at the knees.

“I know you’re going to go get a bunch of new shirts immediately,” he murmurs, and honestly, who gave him the right to a voice like that? Huh? Who did Will piss off? What does he need to do to make amends? “But, well.” He glances down, then back up, smirk widening. “If you wanted to wear that shirt when you’re ogling at me during training, I wouldn’t mind. Might even the playing field.”

And then, because the gods actually hate him, Nico winks. He lets go of Will’s wrist and saunters off without another word, idly swinging his sword as he whistles.

Will crawls back into the flower bed, face plants in the dirt, and yells for ten whole minutes.