#it's so toxic and it knows it's toxic and i eat it up

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Call Me When You Fix Your Attitude 

Lando Norris x fem!reader

a little toxic but it’s ok. 

Lando had been impossible since the post-race debrief. Snapping at engineers, throwing his gloves at the wall, dodging every media obligation McLaren threw his way. You stood just outside the driver’s room door, arms crossed, praying he’d calm down once you got him alone.

He didn’t.

You slipped in quietly and shut the door behind you.

He didn’t look at you, just yanked his race suit down to his waist and flung himself onto the couch like it owed him an explanation.

“They fucking played me,” he muttered. “Team orders my ass. Oscar had the better strategy and the faster car. What the hell am I even doing here?”

“Lando…” you began carefully. “Second isn’t a failure.”

He scoffed, loud and sharp. “Of course you’d say that.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not in the car. You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to fight every fucking lap just for the team to throw your efforts in the bin because golden boy Piastri is quicker.”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Project. I didn’t build Oscar’s car. I didn’t give him better strategy. Don’t talk to me like I’m the enemy.”

“You’re not helping,” he snapped, standing up now, pacing the room.

You followed him with your eyes, trying to stay calm. “I’m not trying to help right now. I’m trying to be here. To support you.”

“Well maybe I don’t want support. Maybe I want space.”

“Then fucking say that instead of tearing me apart like I’m a punching bag!”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t stop. “You want me to spell everything out for you all the time. You always need something—reassurance, validation, your goddamn ‘talk to me’ routine like it’s gonna fix anything.”

You stepped forward, voice rising. “So now being emotionally available is a bad thing?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No—you implied it. You implied that me caring is annoying. That me showing up for you is inconvenient. You know what? Maybe I shouldn’t have fucking come this weekend.”

“Oh please,” he sneered, “don’t act like this isn’t your moment too. The paddock loves you. Everyone wants a quote from Lando Norris’ girlfriend. You eat this shit up.”

The breath punched out of your lungs.

“Say that again,” you dared.

He hesitated.

“Fucking say it again, Lando.”

He met your glare but said nothing.

“You think I came here for clout? You think I’ve been flying across the world to hold your hand after shit races, picking you up off the fucking floor when you spiral, just for attention?”

He flinched, but again—nothing.

You were seething. “I loved you when no one was watching. When the cameras were gone. When your hands were shaking after Silverstone and you couldn’t sleep for days. I was there. I am always fucking there.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be second on purpose.” His voice cracked. “To be told to stand down. To not fight.”

“And you don’t know what it’s like to be with someone who resents you every time you try to help!”

The air felt sharp.

Your voice broke through the tension like thunder. “I’m not the reason Oscar’s winning. I’m not the reason you’re angry. But I’ll be damned if I keep letting you treat me like I am.”

He shoved his hands through his hair, practically pacing a hole in the floor.

You were right behind him now. Loud. Unfiltered.

“I stayed quiet after the media tour. I stayed quiet when you told me to ‘just not bring it up’ when you missed the podium in Austria. I stayed quietwhen you brushed me off the night before this race—didn’t even say ‘I love you’ back.”

He whipped around. “I had a race to prep for!”

“And I’m your girlfriend! Not your punching bag. Not your therapist. And not your emotional garbage can.”

Silence.

And then: “I’m fucking done with you.”

You backed up toward the door.

“Call me when you find your fucking senses—because clearly you left all five of them on the goddamn track.”

And with that, you slammed the door and walked out.

You barely made it ten feet before Oscar stepped out of the hallway shadows.

His brows were drawn together, concerned. “Y/N, I—”

“Don’t,” you said, breath shaking. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just coming to get my physio stuff and—”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” you repeated firmly. “You’re killing it out there. Don’t ever apologize for that.”

He gave you a tight smile, visibly uncomfortable. “Are you heading back to the hotel?”

You shook your head. “No. I might murder him if I see him again.”

Oscar blinked.

“I’m going home.”

“Monaco?”

You stared at him. “No. Home. My real home. I haven’t seen my family in a while.”

His face softened. “The States?”

You nodded. “Pennsylvania.”

“Oh…” he said, quietly. “Do you want me to call you a car?”

“I already called one.”

He nodded, like he didn’t know what else to offer.

You hugged him—briefly.

“Do me one favor?” you asked.

“Anything.”

“Don’t tell him where I’m going. Not until I say so.”

Oscar nodded, eyes gentle. “Promise.”

———

The silence in the driver’s room was deafening after she left.

Lando stared at the wall for twenty straight minutes. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His fingers still trembled from the adrenaline—of the race, of the fight, of the realization that he might’ve gone too far.

Twenty more minutes passed before he finally stood up.

He grabbed his phone. Thought about texting. Thought about calling.

But he knew she wouldn’t answer—not yet.

So he tried to find her the old-fashioned way.

⸻

He moved through the garage, eyes scanning the crowd of engineers and McLaren personnel like a hunter tracking something he’d already wounded.

He checked the hospitality suite.

Not there.

Media pen? Empty.

Her usual seat in the back of the engineering meeting room?

Gone.

He shoved past a cluster of interns near the garage door, barely muttering an apology as he searched for any sign of her—hair, voice, familiar silhouette. Anything.

Then he spotted Oscar.

“Hey,” Lando said, walking up, heartbeat skipping.

Oscar looked up from his phone, guarded.

“Where is she?”

Oscar exhaled slowly, then looked Lando dead in the eye.

“She went home.”

Lando blinked. “Home?”

“That’s what she said.”

The word echoed in his mind. Home.

“Right,” he muttered. “Monaco.”

———

Lando dropped his suitcase with a thud.

His neck ached. His head was pounding. The trip from Silverstone to Monaco was a blur of sleepless hours and spiraling thoughts, and yet noneof that prepared him for walking into an apartment that didn’t feel like home anymore.

It felt… abandoned.

Half the closet was empty.

Her makeup drawer: cleared out.

No cardigan over the desk chair. No sparkly water bottles lined on the nightstand. No favorite mug in the sink.

She was really gone.

He sat on the edge of the bed, letting that fact sink in, chest tight and cold.

And then his phone buzzed.

From Y/N

I’m home. Don’t worry about me.

Call me when you fix your attitude.

It was 8:42 a.m. in Monaco.

Which meant it was nearly 3 a.m. where she was.

His fingers hovered over his screen for half a second before he hit call.

She answered on the third ring, voice groggy, heavy with sleep.

“…Lando?”

His voice was hoarse. “You’re not here.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I thought you were coming back to Monaco.”

“I never said that.”

He swallowed. “You said ‘home.’ I didn’t think—”

“No, Lando. You didn’t think. That’s the whole fucking problem.”

Her tone wasn’t cruel. It was flat. Exhausted.

“You’re in the States?”

A pause. “Yeah. I landed yesterday.”

His heart dropped. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“You screamed at me,” she whispered. “You humiliated me. In front of Oscar, the team—hell, probably half the garage heard you tearing me down.”

“I know.”

“And now you want updates? After what you said to me?”

“I was angry—”

“At me? For something I didn’t even do?”

“No,” he said quickly, “I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad at myself. The team. The car. The situation. And I made it your fault because you were standing there trying to love me through it.”

She was quiet for a long time.

When she spoke again, her voice cracked. “I didn’t fly home because I wanted to leave you. I flew home because if I’d stayed, I would’ve let you keep treating me like that. And I’m finally—finally—starting to love myself enough not to let anyone talk to me that way. Even you.”

His breath caught. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she said softly.

He heard a sniffle.

“You said I came to races for clout.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You said I make things worse by trying to fix you.”

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

Her voice wavered. “But you still said it.”

That hit deeper than anything else.

He pressed a hand over his face, trying to hold in the pressure building behind his eyes.

“Please,” he whispered. “Tell me how to make this right.”

“You don’t get to ask that until you understand how you made it wrong.”

Silence.

“I gave you everything,” she said through tears. “And you made me feel like I was in the way. Like loving you was an inconvenience. Do you know what it feels like to shrink yourself next to someone who used to make you feel ten feet tall?”

He covered his mouth, trying to breathe through the guilt.

“I do now,” he said, brokenly. “And I hate myself for it.”

She let out a small, aching breath.

“I have to go,” she murmured. “It’s late. I’m tired.”

“Wait—please—”

“I’m safe. That’s all you need to know. Call me when you figure out how to be the person I fell in love with again.”

Click.

The line went dead.

———

The apartment in Monaco felt colder without her in it.

Not physically—just empty.

Lando barely moved from the bedroom the first two days. He left the lights off. Curtains drawn. Ordered nothing but espresso and dry toast.

He read her last text a hundred times:

Call me when you fix your attitude.

She hadn’t messaged since.

He hadn’t either.

Because for once, he was listening.

⸻

Day 3:

He sat on the balcony in the early morning, hoodie drawn over his head, staring out at the water like it held answers.

His phone buzzed. Daniel. Max. George. All left unread.

He opened Instagram and saw a tagged photo: Oscar smiling with Lily and a few friends in Paris.

The caption read:

“Grateful for the people who make this sport feel like home.”

Lando locked his phone and tossed it across the table.

She would’ve laughed at that post. She always loved how calm Oscar was—said he reminded her of her brother. Lando used to love how her face lit up when she talked about people she cared about.

Now it haunted him.

⸻

Day 4:

He went to sim. Crashed the car within two laps. Swore loudly. Quit the session.

He hadn’t crashed in months.

His engineer called.

“You good?”

“No,” Lando said honestly. “Not even a little bit.”

⸻

Day 5:

He walked through Monaco like a ghost, hat low, hood pulled. Saw a girl on the beach wearing her favorite brand of sunglasses. He had to look away.

Bought her favorite snack at the corner store out of instinct. Forgot she wasn’t there to eat it.

Came home. Left it on the counter.

Still couldn’t throw it out.

⸻

Day 6:

He stayed up watching old videos on his phone—her voice in the background on race weekends, teasing him, laughing.

One clip from Austria:

“You’re gonna win this weekend.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you always win when I kiss you for luck first.”

She kissed the camera in the video.

Lando cried into his pillow for the first time in months.

He woke up on the seventh morning and stared at the ceiling for a long time.

She’d given him space.

And now he had one chance to fix it.

He didn’t text. Didn’t call.

He just booked the flight.

———

It was quiet.

Too quiet for the way Lando’s heart was racing.

The rain pattered softly against the porch as she stood there, frozen in the doorway of her childhood home, eyes wide and bare-faced. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower, cheeks flushed, hoodie too big. She looked like someone who had finally started to heal—and didn’t expect her wound to come knocking.

“Lando?” she whispered.

“I didn’t want to text. I didn’t want to call,” he said, voice low and shaking. “I wanted to show up.”

A beat of silence.

She didn’t step forward. Didn’t pull him in. She just stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time again.

“I told myself I’d slam the door if you ever showed up without asking.”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t stick. “Do you want to?”

She blinked. Her throat moved as she swallowed.

“No.”

A breath escaped his chest—relief, guilt, desperation all tangled together.

“Come in,” she said quietly, stepping back. “But take your shoes off. My mom just mopped.”

He nodded, shoving off his trainers and stepping inside. The house smelled like lemon cleaner and cinnamon. Homey. Unchanged. Safe.

Too safe for someone who’d broken her the way he did.

⸻

She led him to her room. Same pale walls. Same fuzzy blanket at the foot of the bed. A photo of the two of them in Abu Dhabi framed on the dresser—still there, untouched.

“Sit,” she said softly, motioning to the chair near her desk. She sat on the edge of the bed, feet tucked under her.

Lando looked around like he’d never seen it before. His eyes were glassy, red from the flight. Tired. He looked… hollow.

She noticed.

“Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Eaten?”

“Not really.”

“You should’ve waited to fly—”

“I couldn’t.” His voice cracked on the words. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Another pause. Then she spoke first.

“You didn’t text. All week.”

“You told me not to. Said to call when I fixed my attitude.” He glanced up. “I didn’t want to call you with excuses. I wanted to come here with the truth.”

She nodded slowly, looking down at her lap. “Then say it.”

He swallowed. Hard.

“I was awful to you. I know that. I’ve been awful for a while, haven’t I?”

Silence.

“I’ve been so focused on trying to prove myself—on not being second, not being forgotten—that I forgot you. I forgot that you’re not just here for the wins, or the highs, or the press photos. You’re here for me. And I treated you like that wasn’t enough.”

He stared down at his hands.

“And when you said you were done… I deserved it. Every word. I was cruel. And cold. And I let my pride drive the only person who’s ever stood by me right out the fucking door.”

She looked at him, eyes glossy. But she didn’t cry.

“Why do you do it?” she asked, voice tight. “Why do you talk to me like I’m the enemy every time something goes wrong?”

He blinked. “Because I hate feeling weak.”

“You think I make you feel weak?”

“No,” he said instantly. “You make me feel safe. Which scares me. Because when everything else in my life is falling apart, you’re the one thing that never does. And when I feel myself losing everything else… I guess I start trying to break the one thing I know is real. Just so it doesn’t hurt when it breaks on its own.”

Her eyes welled then. Finally. Quiet tears sliding down her cheeks.

“You’re right,” she said. “I am your safe place.”

She wiped her cheek. “But I haven’t felt safe with you in months.”

That shattered him.

“I’ve been walking on eggshells, Lando. Constantly. Trying not to say too much, not to get in the way. Swallowing how I feel because God forbid I add to your pressure.”

She looked up, trembling now. “You’re exhausted? So am I. You’re scared? So am I. You’re angry? Lando, I’ve been angry for months. Angry at myself for letting it get this far. For letting you chip away at me in little, quiet ways every time you came home and didn’t say ‘I missed you.’ Every time I stood in the paddock and you looked through me.”

He opened his mouth, but she held up a hand.

“No. Let me finish.” Her voice cracked. “Because I haven’t said this out loud to anyone. Not even Alex. Not even my mom.”

She took a breath.

“There were days I thought about leaving.”

That stopped him cold.

“I thought about packing a bag, leaving a note, and just disappearing from your world. Not because I don’t love you. God, I love you more than anything. But because I couldn’t breathe around you anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending I was okay while slowly being erased.”

Lando didn’t just tear up.

He broke.

His hand shot up to cover his mouth, shoulders trembling, face turning red as tears spilled freely down his cheeks.

“You were gonna leave,” he whispered.

She looked at him, chest heaving, barely holding herself together. “I didn’t want to. I wanted you to see me before I had to.”

He stood up slowly, like his legs barely worked. Walked to her. Dropped to his knees.

His head bowed into her lap like he was praying.

“I didn’t know,” he choked. “I didn’t know you were hurting that much.”

“I didn’t want to make it worse,” she whispered. “You already had the weight of the whole world on you. I didn’t want to be one more thing dragging you down.”

“You were never that,” he sobbed. “You were never that.”

She ran a hand over his hair, fingers trembling.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said against her leg, voice muffled. “I’ll do anything. I’ll go to therapy. I’ll quit racing. I’ll walk away from the grid tomorrow if that’s what it takes.”

She froze. “Don’t say that.”

“I mean it,” he said, looking up. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make you feel safe with me again.”

A long silence.

Then—

“I still love you,” she whispered. “But we’re not okay. We’re not gonna fix this with one big gesture.”

“I know.”

She reached for his face. Wiped under his eyes with her thumbs.

“We have to rebuild, Lando. From the ground up.”

He nodded, leaning into her hands. “Then let’s start. Please. Just… don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered. “Not yet. But I need you to prove this matters to you. That I matter to you when things are bad, not just when they’re good.”

“I will.” He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard. “I swear to god I will.”

[nanamisbbygirl]

—☆ friends with benefits!

chapter 5. long walks on the beach

paring: geto suguru x reader

genre: college au, drama, smut with plot

summary: a pact of pleasure between friends runs the risk of ruining everything. passionate flames burn the hardest. you and geto care about each other, but what happens when sex gets tangled with friendship?

cw: fighting, toxic relationships, drinking, angst

a/n: this was edited while i was sleepy so im sorry if there are any spelling mistakes >.<

prev. < masterlist > next

The waves splashed against the shore, it was a hot summer day– so hot in fact, that all high school classes were canceled due to the rising temperatures. Geto remembered that week well; how he and all his friends were supposed to drive up to the beach, but when Shoko came down with a fever, and Gojo had unexpected family plans, that left just you and him in the car. 

He sat in the driver seat, windows rolled down, letting you play music through the car’s radio. The beach was about an hour away, so the two of you were in for an adventure. He was glad that you still wanted to tag along with him, because the weather was unbearable and his body had been craving the cool ocean water. 

Not to mention, he couldn’t stand the sound of arguments. His parents were always on each other’s nerves and he didn’t want to be around to hear another spat. 

“I can’t believe Satoru forgot that he was going to his cousin’s wedding today,” you laugh, thinking back to what the white hair boy had told you, “how does one forget a wedding?”

“At least it wasn’t his wedding, ya know?” Geto chuckled along, feeling the breeze as he drove. His eyes were meant to be glued on the road, but he couldn’t help sneak a few glances over at you every once and a while. 

You had your sunglasses on your head, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a pair of denim shorts. Your hand reached out the window, as if to touch the wind. He felt himself enjoying this carefree nature that had washed over you, it seemed as though the heat brought out the best of both of your emotions. 

Geto remembered the rest of the day being good. The way you splashed in the water with him, climbing on his shoulders to jump into the water. It was refreshing, the ability to forget about every little worry in the world. He smiled when you collected sea shells, and how you scolded him for not putting on sunscreen. 

Floating on your back, you felt his arms hook under your torso, holding you close to the surface so that you wouldn’t float away. 

“Hold on tight,” he muttered but you couldn’t really hear him with your ears underwater. Before you knew it, he had lifted you up, throwing you back in. 

His heart skipped a beat watching you come back up, wiping the salty water from your face. You laughed, nudging him. 

“You’re such an asshole,” you said playfully, lovingly, with a level of softness as you tried to dunk his head underwater in return. 

You were at the beach for the entire day, and when the sun finally began to set, you begged him to stop for ice cream before you headed back home. It was hard to say no to you, to his friend, especially with the cute little pout that was on your lips. 

“Why don’t we go into town and eat it on the beach?” He had suggested, and you did just that. With your toes in between the sand and a cone of ice cream in your hand, you were both staring out into the sunset. 

Sitting side by side, you were wearing one of his extra t-shirts as a cover up. Admiring the colorful sky, you rested your head against Geto’s shoulder. His skin was warm, slightly burnt, smelling of salt. His hair tied back, and his loose bangs started to curl as a result of the ocean water. 

“I had a lot of fun today, we should do it again.” Geto nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, I’m glad we ended up coming. I can’t stand being home right now.” He admitted, taking a lick of the cold treat. 

“Your parents?” You questioned, an eyebrow raised. Geto nodded again, looking down in between his feet. There was a comfortable silence that fell over you, eyes turning back to the water. 

“I’m sorry, Su.” You tell him, “hopefully it’ll all work out for the best.” 

“Yeah,” his voice trailed off. 

“If you ever need me– for anything– just tell me. Okay? You’re one of my best friends.” You tell him and again, he offers up a silent nod. 

Your voice is so sweet and gentle as it rings through his ears. It’s a stark contrast to the poisonous hissing he hears on a regular basis. He eases into your touch, taking one last look at the setting sun before fluttering his eyes closed, forgetting about the ice cream in his hand. 

He listened to the steady tempo of the waves hitting the sandy shore, and of the delicate breeze. Your skin against his. A seagull squawking in the background. It feels like peace. He’s only snapped out of his trance when he hears your laughter. 

You rush to wipe the melting ice cream in his hands, a large grin on his face. 

Now he wishes for that peace again, for the intimacy of normality. To go to the beach, letting the water wash away his fears. Yet, he can’t do that now, and with the cab dropping him off in front of the bar, he wonders if he’ll be able to actually spit any words out. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed, he realized. Now he felt as though he was fighting against time itself– praying that Satoru wouldn’t actually confess to you. 

He couldn’t gauge how long he was just standing there, staring at the bouncers, hearing the rush of people, the smell of cigarettes. He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands that were falling loose. Why did you have to make his heart beat like this? He could’ve sworn he was inches away from having a heart attack. 

Geto pictured every scenario; you had already left, holding Gojo’s arm like he was your anchor; you kissing him at the back of the bar, in a corner where no one could see; or you gushing over his heart-felt confession, reciprocating everything he felt and more. He imagined the way you’d wrap your arms around his waist, pressing your head to his chest like you’d never been hugged before. It made him sick. 

Still in his trance, he thought he saw an angel– watching the way you walked out of the bar with Shoko, slipping into the smoker’s corner in the alley next to it. He didn’t realize she would be there. All of you together without him, having a blast. You were grinning from ear to ear, listening to your friend talk. He wondered where Satoru was and if he was even going to tell you how he felt now that Shoko was with you. 

Had he been bluffing the whole time? Fuck, did he even actually say he was confessing? How much did the weed mess up his perception of the world? Was Gojo even at his house? 

The last twenty-four hours felt like a hallucination, clearly it wasn’t, though, because there you were, at the bar, just like his friend said you’d be. 

He kept staring, studying the way Shoko lit her cigarette, blowing the smoke away from you as you continued to talk giggling like girls did. He figured if anyone caught him staring they’d assume that he was some pervert, getting off on watching girls. 

Shoko’s phone rang. She looked at the screen, rolling her eyes before  answering. He observed how you played with your hair, awkwardly waiting for her to finish the call. He wondered if you would notice his presence now that your attention wasn’t geared towards your friend. 

“Suguru!” A shrilly voice calls out. When he looked to his side he saw a girl– not sure what her name is, but confident he’s hooked up with her. The girl latched herself onto him, clinging to his forearm. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in forever!” 

He can barely focus on any of her features, and he doesn’t care to focus on them either. He gives her a disgusted look, hoping to shake her off of him. “Do I know you?” He snaps, head aching from having to deal with her. 

He doesn’t bother to see where she went after that, cursing her for distracting him. When he turns his head back to where you and Shoko were standing, he realizes that your friend has left, gone elsewhere, leaving you alone. He knows it’s now or never, but it’s as if his feet have been cemented to the ground. 

Geto had to put all his might into taking the first step, pushing himself to move. Although, after he manages to do the first, the rest come naturally and he feels as though he’s running to you, like a saviour on a white horse. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask him, back pressed against the brick wall. There are other people around, but they don’t matter. Now, it’s just you and him and he’s desperate– desperate to make things right between the two of you. 

“I came to see you. Satoru said you’d be here.” He paused, trying to wait for your reaction to the other boy’s name.

“And?” You were harsh, and rightfully so. 

“I just wanted to talk,” Geto’s voice was quiet– an octave lower than he was used to speaking in. 

“What’s there to talk about, Su?” Your eyes were blank, expressionless. Not sad. Not angry. Indifferent. And that hurt him more than anything else. 

He paused, catching his breath. He wanted to pour his heart out, but it was almost as if there was a dam holding his flow of speech back. At least, the words he really wanted to say were being withheld by his tongue. 

“To talk about us, about what happened. You never answered my texts.” He was equally harsh, snapping at you, even if that wasn’t how he truly felt. 

There it was. That bubbling feeling inside of him. The feeling of destruction– sabotaging himself over and over again. He wanted to be kinder, to be softer to you, but his guard was up, and it would take a lot more than just his beating heart to drop it.  

“You know why I didn’t fucking answer.” You crossed our arms, continuing, “you didn’t even try to apologize. You just wanted us to move on like it never happened.” 

“Yeah because you’re not my fucking girlfriend, why the fuck should I apologize?” His voice raised, heat building up in his chest. 

“There it is Su,” your tone was a stark contrast to his. Quieter, docile, hurt. “I’m not your girlfriend. I get that. You never fail to remind me.” 

“Okay so why are you being so distant? Because I cockblocked you? Big deal.” Geto knew what he was doing was wrong, the guilt of it all lingered in his throat. He knew his words stung, but that didn’t stop him from saying them. 

“You just don’t get it. The whole point was to stay friends.” You told him, “but the whole time you treated me like I was nothing to you. Like I was just another girl. I thought you’d at least have the decency to be nice.” 

He didn’t know what to respond with. You weren’t some other girl. You were everything. You were right in what you were saying. He had brushed you aside, grumbled at your presence– something he would’ve never done six months ago. But how could he explain it to you? He felt as though he couldn’t even explain it to himself. He wanted to rebuttal your point, but you speak up again. 

“But I see it now. You were always a dick, I just didn’t see it until now. You treat everyone like shit, even your friends. You like having girls wrapped around your finger– like you’re drunk off the attention they give you.” You spoke as though you had planned to say this to him, rehearsed it in the mirror and everything. 

“And you don’t think you were one of those girls? Don’t forget that you jumped onto the opportunity to sleep with me.” As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He went to the bar to tell you that you were different, that the time you spent together meant something. But now he’d dug his own grave, and he could see it on your face, how your face started to drop, eyes becoming wide, glassing over slightly. 

“Fuck you,” you scoffed, voice shaky, trying to pretend that his cruel words didn’t affect you. 

“Shit, I didn’t fucking mean it like that.” He tried to take it back, but the damage was done. You were about to slip off, but he grabbed your arm. “Wait, please, for Christ's sake.” 

“Why are you doing this to me, Su? I really thought you cared about me– even if it was just as friends.” 

“I do,” he finally admitted, taking a step closer. “Look it’s not easy for me to be talking about this shit, but I really wanted to talk to you. To try to fix it.” 

“So why are you so mean?” A tear threatened to fall from your eye, and he felt that familiar guilty pang hit his heart. 

He wondered what was the right thing to do. He couldn’t spill his guts completely, even if that’s what he wanted most. He couldn’t kiss you, he knew that would only make you hate him more. What was he meant to do, then? He wished life was as easy as dreams– wished he could relive that day on the beach where you just understood him, even if he didn’t have the strength to tell you everything that he felt. 

“y/n…”

Cautiously, he brought his hand near your face, cupping it with one hand. He had repeated that action so many times when the two of you were having sex. It was gentle, loving. He hoped you felt it now. His thumb carefully swiped away a stray teardrop as he bit his tongue. Your back was pressed against the wall, his face hovering in front of yours. He was lost in your eyes, staring into them as if they held the world’s secrets. 

Geto was ready to tell you how sorry he was, to let the dam break. He really was– if he wasn’t interrupted. 

“What the fuck?” Before he had a chance to respond he felt a cold fist against his jaw, followed by the sound of you gasping. 

“What the fuck?!” Gojo repeated, only this time louder. Geto clutched the point of impact, stumbling back, watching the way his eyes narrowed. “You have some fucking nerve to come here.” 

“Satoru, what the hell is wrong with you?” You jumped in and your seeming defense of Geto only ticked him off more. 

Gojo wasn’t paying you much attention, though, gaze fixed on his so-called ‘best friend.’ “You knew what I was gonna do, and you came here to fucking ruin it.” 

The white haired boy threw another punch. Geto didn’t bother to defend himself. He wanted to say it isn’t what it looks like, but it was. 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Another punch, this time to his gut. “You can’t let anyone else be happy, can you? You’re miserable, so you have to make everyone fucking miserable too.” 

“Stop it!” You screamed out, reaching to hold Gojo’s arm, but it was no use. You were pushed in the crossfire, tumbling back against the wall. There was no point. Whatever seemed to be the problem between the two of them, you couldn’t make it stop. 

“You’re a jerk, y’know that? You’re a selfish prick.” Gojo slammed him against the wall, and Geto could only stare into the other man’s eyes, jaw locked despite how it throbbed in pain. 

That’s when Gojo’s head turned to you, “what did he say to you?” 

“Nothing. He didn’t say anything.” You spat, “now let him go, you guys are gonna get the cops called on us.”  Gojo lets go, as if he’s finally come to his senses. Geto huffs, looking over at you once again. You can see his lip is busted, pale skin bruised. His eyes are calm, though, as if he’s lost in thought. You feel your skin crawl, heart racing. What the hell just happened?

taglist: @bunnygorex @iwas-baby @coffee-and-geto @i2s2m @zeunys @murasakiyams @sukunasbigtiddiewifey @izluvsyou @goonforgeto @multistan-247 @chosoclub @idyllicsam @0tsukie @suckkuna @loverzxi @lilbxtchsyndrome @blombat @ll0rona @astrokenny @izluvsyou @saint-boudica @cutehobii @shadyd3ar @getofanclub @suguruswifett @rryujn @kenmacantakemeaway @keiva1000 @reader2004 @hearts-for-asa @siennadoodles @se-phi-roth @cherryredkissez @whimsicalwriting @chewiebee @sugurunugget @bunbun444 [closed]

© all work belongs to nanamisbbygirl on tumblr, please do not plagiarize, repost or translate anywhere

[virtualcryptz]

House MD characters with... BPD reader.

characters: allison cameron, eric foreman, gregory house, james wilson, robert chase

tws: self-destructive behaviour (binge eating, drug abuse, suicide attempts, self harm), enabling, vague description of manic episodes.

A/N: written at like 4am pls treat me kindly <3 house is slightly toxic but its accurate imo so cope!! tried to refer to a broader spectrum, including things i dont experience, so sorry if it's not all 100% accurate :C

Allison Cameron

Definitely one of the more understanding of the OGs.

Very big on communication puts a lot of effort into being completely open. Never wants to make you feel like you've been pushed aside.

Finds it kinda hard to move on from splits, but does get that, 99% of the time, you don't mean what you're saying. Still takes it to heart, though.

Will happily sit there and wait for you to come down and be ready to talk.

Worries a lot when you're manic. She doesn't want to infantalise you but she can be a little bit overbearing.

Non-judgemental when it comes to self harm. Just cleans up however necessary, sits with you and reassures you.

She does push you to stop self harming, but also realises it can be very addictive for most people.

She finds it quite hard to accept when you do something bad during episodes, but often excuses it and pushes blame onto whatever the trigger was. She's not that bothered about apologising tbh.

Eric Foreman

Struggles a lot, especially at first.

He isn't great with empathy, so it's hard for him to really understand, especially since you're considerably more emotional than he is.

After a while, he at least learns what you need from him, and he gets into the habit of reassuring you whenever you fight.

"I am mad, but that doesn't mean I hate you or I'm leaving you. We'll work it out."

After the first few splits aimed at him, he does stop taking it personally, but will understandably get annoyed if you refuse to apologise.

He takes note of any uncharacteristic behaviour - he hates to see you going down that slope.

Especially notices overindulgence in drugs, from everything with his brother. Overreacts if you end up doing any, especially if you spend a lot of money. It gets very heated, very quickly.

Good at grounding during dissociative episodes. Stays with you as long as you need him. He has little to no problem with missing work or showing up late for you.

Gregory House

Probably does a DDX on you when he notices any symptoms you display. He knew before you told him. Hell, his whole team knew before you told him!

That, and if you're diagnosed, he's probably gone digging around your records. Furthermore, if you are formally diagnosed, he does a LOT to make sure you don't have to deal with any biases.

He's honestly not great. Let's be real. But he does try, which is more than you can say about what he does for the others.

He's aware that the amount of time he spends with Wilson can be triggering for abandonment. But he's also pretty shit at reassuring you. So he brings you along to a lot of hangouts :]

Short of having his eyes on you 24/7, he never knows what to do when you're manic. He can make as many sarcastic jokes and backhanded comments as he wants it doesn't make him any less anxious.

Projects a lot of his own issues onto you, but amplifies it iykwim? Assumes that something that upsets him could trigger something serious with you.

He is possibly the worst person to split on. When you go low, he goes lower. Disagreements turn into shouting matches quickly and usually end in meltdowns.

You are one of the few people he'll actually apologise to you. Not just because he cares more, but also because there's a lot less that can go unsaid. He can guess that Cuddy and Wilson understand through his actions that he's sorry, it's less of a gamble he wants to take with you.

James Wilson

The MOST forgiving out of all of them.

The only downside is that, like he is with House, he is an enabler. He just can't find the line.

When you're splitting, he honestly just sits there and takes it.

Also never expects an apology. Would probably let you get away with using it as an excuse for poor behaviour, if you ever did.

That said, he does get that you can't really help a lot of it.

When it comes to self destruction, he's always focussed on making sure you're okay. Nothing else seems to matter in the moment, even if you've hurt him in the process.

I mean, he's a head of department in a hospital. reckless spending isn't too much of an issue. If need be, he's more than happy to use his status to get you better care.

However, as mentioned above, he does enable. He doesn't encourage it but rarely pushes you to quit more risky vices.

One of the few that would seriously push you to seek help. Very aware that BPD can be manageable, so long as there's proper help.

Also does what he can to get you medicated if that's something you're seeking out.

Robert Chase

He's not perfect, but he knows what it's like to feel alone and abandoned.

Very empathetic - he tells you he's here for you as many times as you need to hear it.

Incredibly worried about the idea of you making a suicide attempt - if it happens once he gets a little paranoid about it. If he wakes up in the night and you're not there, he panics.

He knows that splits aren't something either of you can really help, but it's tough. He tries not to leave you alone during episodes he's also not gonna sit there and take it.

Kind of mocks your delusions. It's well-intentioned but it can make it harder to be open about.

He's pretty used to being snapped at, from both family and work, so he mostly takes it in his stride.

That being said, he can usually tell when the shouting and hostility is coming from a place of self-sabotage, for the sake of burning bridges.

Overall, quite the worrier. Doesn't want to bombard you about it, but he picks up on most changes in demeanour and sort of notes it down for later. Just in case.

[airedelalmena]

Stuff like this is so frustrating. Because people can take the same action for multiple reasons.

Whenever I've done something like this, i.e. with a younger sibling or friend, it's to encourage them to use THEIR smarts. Because I know they're smarter than that, but aren't using it.

The idea that ego could be involved is foreign to me, and I'm truly pushing those I love to self-improve for their own sake. And in a situation like this, though I wouldn't have harped on the same word, might have been nearly as blunt for the sake of their health and safety. I've seen friends with lifelong eating disorders, tried gently to say a kind word here or there, and been looked at as if I ran over someone's dog by the enablers who'd rather sit in silence.

The willful misinterpretation of intents like these feels really unkind because they ascribe automatic bad faith.

I try my best to be kind, but IMO sometimes kind messages for someone's betterment can't and shouldn't be sugarcoated, but made clear. For me, to show respect for someone's good traits (i.e. intelligence) is to expect it of them at all times, and point out when they're not living up to the person I know they are, etc. As a friend. Coddling existing problems feels like feeding the problem, keeping it alive. It's what I would want from my friends and family - extreme directness to help me to grow, not fearful silence that actually keeps me from hearing needed comments that might support my growth.

I guess I just don't understand people who feel uncomfortable with directness or disapprove of it as a problem-solver.

Example: If someone's half-unconscious, injured on the side of the road, and I know first aid, and also know an ambulance is coming but it's 30+ minutes away, the answer is...

to call them and politely ask permission to go ahead first, uwu! Um, no.

to go straight into the first aid without any ado.

Like IDC "how that ~*~sounds/looks~*~" YK?

This is why I do this: We only live one life, and time is short. You could die tomorrow. I wish people had saved me wasted years of not being on the right paths by putting it bluntly into my system.

I experienced this firsthand about ten years ago and it forced me to choose to stop the social behavior of "being polite" and beating around the bush, and to realize the beautiful value of bluntness in saving a person's life instead. Because I almost lost mine to the toxicness of a "being polite" environment that HATED the truth, hated real words spoken to solve real problems. Would rather watch their friends and relatives suffer eating disorders, domestic abuse, severe health problems, near-homelessness in 100% silence as long as the "politeness" of the environment was maintained. No one cared enough about those hurting to speak of the elephants in the room.

Because I lack an interfering ego, I wouldn't be offended by someone doing what OP did in the above. I would consider where they were coming from and let my bubble be burst if it needed to be. I've seen these egos kill people, more committed to the pain than the healing. Because unfortunately trauma bonding happens, and "the comfort zone" of it feels artificially "good".

How many people say "I'll make (XYZ happier choice) for my New Year's resolution" and then never do it? A false friend pats them on the back and says "that's wonderful!" A REAL friend pushes them to make concrete plans, break them down into itemized lists of the steps needed to make it happen. Because I've seen entire lives go to waste saying "maybe one day..." or entire relationships break thanks to easily-solved but unsolved problems. So, as a friend, when I see something, I DO something or I SAY something, as most people were "too polite" to do for me (so-called politeness was actually unintended sabotage).

Being ultra-practical and no-nonsense tends to piss people off mightily, though. Trying to help gets misinterpreted as the wrong, "taboo" thing and shunned. The offended pushback from them starts fights, which I then have to fend off; after which, either my original help, or the fending-off of their fight is then re-interpreted as "my starting a fight". Scapegoating. Etc. I'm so tired and burnt out from years of having to go through this with people over and over again. People I care for and am trying to burst the comfort zone of, to help to heal.

Ultimately the OP's choice was the wrong one in this situation, here. But it seems like their intent was to bust up some of the myth's in their friend's eating-disordered thinking, to get them to wake up a little from the disease that is harming them. Was it perfectly done? No. But did the mother have proof that it was coming from an egotistical place? No, she jumped straight to the accusation. All I see is someone choosing a specific word as an opportunity to cut through some learned BS and point out why it might be BS. A young person doing it in a clumsy way. But so different from a surface-level attack on vocabulary and intelligence that it's being criticized as.........like, come on.......

Hi there, I love your writing and saw one of your recent answered asks. If you feel like it, could you tell or point us to a story about how you were taught kindness? I worry I have not learned enough kindness.

I actually got out of bed to write this. I saw the ask, and I knew the story, and I knew what I wanted it to be. It's a little fire and brimstone, compared to my other stories, but I think that's an important part. 

My mom was a young woman's leader for our ward and she cared a lot about her charges. One of the girls in her group had parents that were in the middle of a messy divorce, and with the mom reentering the workforce after 15 years, schedules were hectic. So my mom picked up their daughter from school for a while. The daughter only lived a block away from us, so it was a small thing to do for a family going through a very painful change.

Said daughter was fat. She'd been fat since we were all kids and she was deeply ashamed of it. Always trying to fix it. Always reading about and talking about diets. And one day, I was sitting in the back seat, and she was talking with my mom about some documentary she'd seen about the corn industry, and how corn syrup was in everything, and I remember her saying "It's literally poison."

And I just didn't leave it be.  

I said something about if she was sure it was literal, and she said yeah, totally, and I asked her if she knew what literal went, and my mom shot daggers at me through the rear view mirror before changing the topic. They chatted, and my mom told her some stuff about worrying less about food, and I don't remember the details but I know my mom was trying to steer her away from disordered eating. Then we arrived at her house, and she got out, and after that it was just me and my mom in the car. 

And it was awkward. We drove for maybe a half block before my mom said, Babs, what the hell was that, and I said something about how that's not what literally means, and she took me to task for it. 

Who cares what literally means, she said. Her parents are getting divorced. She feels terrible about her body. She feels terrible about everything. And instead of listening to her, you felt the need to point out that you're smarter than her. That you know a word she doesn't. You feel big, putting her down like that? 

I didn't have an answer. We sat there a few moments, silent, before she spoke again. I will never forget how tired she sounded. 

I know she isn't as smart as you, she said. But she's doing the best she can. And you could be doing so much more than this.

There was nothing I could say to that. I saw her face in the rearview a few times on the short ride home, and she wasn't sobbing but there were tears going down her face. I think she sat in the car twenty minutes after pulling in, just trying to get her composure back. I checked on her from the living room window like ten times. I can't remember the last time I felt like that huge of a piece of shit.

My mom is a gentle woman. She cried over worms with me. She hardly ever yelled, and she apologized after she did. That conversation caved my skull in like a cinder block dropped from a skyscraper. And I deserved it. 

I know it's probably not the tumblr way to encourage shame. But I have found it useful anyway. I think it is useful for me, to have a specific moment of knowing what failure looks like and feels like.  Missing the person to pick out the part that would make me look good, missing the big view of their life, missing the idea that what they need is not necessarily to be right. Too may misses.

There are a lot of stupid things that have crawled to the tip of my tongue, only to get stopped by the memory of my mom saying you could be doing so much more than this. 

I will not make her say that a second time.

[xjulixred45x]

Your headcanon of vil being good with kids makes me imagine him as the type of actor that dosen't let the kids of the set interact with creepy adults, even when he is playing the villain he always protect the younger ones in the set.

There's so much predators in the acting industry and is really sad how the young actors end up with their lives destroyed because of it(like the case of dan schneider).

YES! I partly came up with this headcanon because before TWST, I was very obsessed with shady cases in the animation/acting industry, and the issue of child exploitation and predatory adults is by far the most recurrent in these environments. I don't doubt that could happen in TWST.

Furthermore, Vil himself mentions that he was very lucky to have his father's support in his acting career, not only to encourage him to pursue it, but also to be independent. Vil hasn't had bad experiences in the acting world beyond his constant choice of villain roles, so we could assume that Eric not only protected Vil from excessive attention by letting him hide the fact that he was his son, but in general from the bad experiences that come with the acting world.

Vil is probably painfully aware of the toxic and dangerous environment of being a child actor, and he not only tries to avoid those kinds of traumatic experiences for younger actors, but also to act as something of a mentor figure.

I like to think of Vil interacting with his "young" stunt doubles for a film, precisely so they won't be afraid of him and can learn a few things early in their careers (things that could lead to bad times down the road).

Vil often does things with the kids to ease their tension before shooting a scene, such as getting them something to eat (healthy, of course; he probably also scolds them a bit if they only eat candy), helping them with their makeup, going for walks off set, etc.

Vil also gives me vibes like the kind of person who, if he sees one of the directors (or any adult in general) bullying young kids, either stands next to them, giving them The Glare™ until the adult leaves, or tells them to go to hell in the most elegant and subtle way possible.

Ironically, only the kids seem unafraid of him because of this. When Vil and Neige have to collaborate on a film, it's not uncommon for the young actors to naturally gravitate toward Vil. (I don't know why, but Neige gives me vibes like he doesn't realize the toxic acting environment and doesn't understand this favoritism. The kids think Neige is creepy, much to Vil's satisfaction.)

I don't know, I love the concept of big brother Vil.

____________________

(ESPAÑOL)

SI! en parte se me ocurrio este Headcanon porque antes de twst estaba muy obsesionada con casos turbios de la industria de la animacion/actuacion, y justamente el tema de la sobre explotacion infantil y los adultos depredadores es de por lejos lo mas recurrente en estos entornos. no dudo que eso pueda pasar en TWST.

Ademas, el propio Vil menciona que tuvo mucha suerte de tener el apoyo de su padre en au carrera de actuacion, no solo para apoyarlo a seguirla, sino para ser independiente. Vil no ha tenido malas experiencias con el ambiente actoral mas haya de su eleccion constante de papeles de villano, por lo que podriamos asumir que Eric no solo protegio a Vil de la atención excesiva al dejarle ocultar que era su hijo, sino en general de las malas experiencias que vienen con el ambiente de los actores.

Vil probablemente es dolorosamente conciente del tipo de ambiente toxico y peligroso que es ser actor infantil, y no solo trata de evitar ese tipo de experiencias traumaticas de llegar a los mas jovenes, sino de ser algo asi como una figura de mentor.

me gusta pensar en Vil interactuando con sus dobles "jovenes" para alguna pelicula, justamente para que no le tengan miedo y aprendan un par de cosas temprano en sus carreras (cosas que podrian preveer malos episodios en el futuro).

Vil suele hacer cosas con los niños para que dejen de estar tensos antes de rodar alguna escena, como ir a comer algo (saludable por supuesto, probablemente también los regaña un poco si solo comen golosinas), ayudarles con su maquillaje, salir a caminar fuera del set, etc.

tambien Vil me da vibras de ser el tipo de persona que si ve a uno de los directores (o cualquier adulto en general) hostigando a los niños jovenes, o se para junto a ellos hasta que el adulto se vaya, o lo manda a comer mierda de la forma mas elegante y sutil posible.

irónicamente, solo los niños parecen no tenerle miedo gracias a esto. Cuando Vil y Neige tienen que hacer alguna colaboración en una película, no es raro que los actores jovenes graviten naturalmente hacia Vil. (no se porque, pero Neige me da vibras de no darse cuenta de el ambiente toxico de los actores y no entiende este favoritismo. los niños creen que Neige es creepy, para la satisfacción de Vil).

no se, amo el concepto de hermano mayor Vil.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[demigod-shenanigans]

I appreciate you taking the time to ramble so much, especially knowing PJO is far from your main fandom at the moment. It means a lot that you still care about this fic. Also, despite you saying you won’t have as much to say, this is actually the most detailed comment I’ve gotten on this chapter :)

I’ve had a pretty miserable day (I had an exam and there’s a pretty decent chance I might not even get a passing grade and have to retake said awful exam, which is unfun) and this comment has been a very appreciated bright spot.

-With the way the scene is written I could never figure out if Leo is actually in pain while he’s dead (I hope being in pain while you’re dead is not a thing, that would suck massively) or if that’s actually the start of him getting resurrected and it sucks so bad specifically due to the way he died (kind of like someone with severe burns slowly waking up/coming out of anesthesia?). Either way, yeah, he’s definitely uncomfortably familiar with painful deaths and thinking about Jason being alone and in pain the way he was… very much not fun for Leo. At least he’d never consider Jason ending up in the fields of punishment an option like he apparently did for himself 😬

-I honestly cannot blame people too much regardless of which way they write Caleo because their canon writing is just… all over the place and not even in a fun way. Personally, I kind of love the messy train wreck angle of leaning into all the ways they just don’t work but making it about them being a bad fit rather than either of them being bad people. They’re both traumatized kids trying their best given the circumstances but the circumstances do not do them any favors and they’re just a terrible fit even outside of these specific circumstances. Sometimes you meet exactly the wrong person at exactly the wrong time and you want to love each other so bad but holy shit are your attempts at it just making it worse for both of you. I went into this more in chapter four (which is the only chapter or the fic Calypso has any sort of major role with) and actually had a lot of fun with it.

They’re awful together, and if they’d been written messy intentionally in the books and that had been addressed, it could have been really interesting to explore, but instead they’re a toxic mess couple that’s constantly fighting and don’t seem to even like each other half the time and also for some reason this is all Leo’s fault for being sexist despite the fact that Calypso is downright mean to Leo several times. It made me want to chew drywall.

Anyway, Leo is grieving and Calypso is not coping with the whole situation of being left behind again well and neither of them are terrible people for it. They’re just human. (Also yeah Lester being the narrator did not do Leo or Calypso any favor in Dark Prophecy LOL. I still wish we’d gotten a split POV for ToA to give some extra nuance to these situations we only get an—at times relatively disinterested—outside perspective on.)

Anyway, I’m rambling, but I’m glad the way I handled them worked for you so far :D

-I always have so much fun with Leo being the only one of them who can cook. And Piper, menace that she is, is just gonna eat whatever looks tasty to her, food groups be damned LMAO

-Leo is just generally super respectful re: food preferences, but I also think in this situation specifically he only made veggie toppings because he knows Piper doesn’t love the smell of cooked meat (she tolerates it and won’t say anything about it but he knows her well enough that he can tell).

-I make no promises re: the crying in future chapters haha. Some of them are pretty sad (not all of them though, I promise)

This is most definitely the longest I’ve worked on a fic without posting it since I first started posting my fics at all, and it still doesn’t feel entirely real that I finished it. My relationship with it pingpongs at times (like it does with my writing in general) but it is the biggest project I’ve finished in ages and that is pretty cool.

Again, thanks for taking the time to read and comment, it’s immensely appreciated <3

The choiceless hope in grief (chapter 2)

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, and by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 2: ~6k

Rating: Teen and Up

< Prev | Next >

General notes for this chapter: -More grief/self-loathing themes. Not sure if I’ll be warning for those for each chapter individually since they’re quire relevant to the overall fic, but it’s been a minute, so I thought the reminder probably couldn’t hurt. (It having been a hot minute since I posted the first chapter is also the reason why I put the fic summary here again, I won’t do that for every chapter) -This does also go into the demigod deaths from Tyrant’s Tomb (at least a little bit). The death toll in that book is huge and I honestly found it really upsetting. I’m aware the Hunters don’t canonically stay behind to help rebuild but this is my fic and I can do what I want <3

-For my sanity and yours, we’re suspending our disbelief and taking the fact that Calypso is mentally sixteen in canon at face value. Her and Leo have a variety of problems, and, as should be clear by the premise of this fic, they’re not gonna last, but please note that I will be treating them both as traumatized teenagers.

———

Chapter 2: Piper tries to make burritos unsupervised

The first Iris Message came through on the ninth of April, barely ten minutes after breakfast. Piper’s dad was already at work, which at least meant they thankfully didn’t have to explain why there was a floating rainbow that had people’s faces in it chilling in the middle of the living room.

It was Thalia and Reyna. 

Leo hadn’t even realized they knew each other, but apparently the Hunters of Artemis—Diana, whatever—had come to Camp Jupiter’s aid. This should have been a relief, but there was no relief to be found in Reyna’s expression. The only flicker of joy he saw on her face was when she told them she’d be joining the Hunters.

It wasn’t the kind of decision Leo had expected from Reyna. Then again, she barely looked like the same girl that had shown Leo around New Rome with a proud smile, eagerly listening to and expanding on Leo’s ideas for fortifications and long-range weaponry. Had it really only been a few weeks since then? It felt like a lifetime ago now.

There was still that same grim set to Reyna’s jaw, but her usual proud posture looked more like she was… well, posturing, for lack of a better word. And the expression on her face… 

Leo knew that expression. He had seen it in the mirror many times as a child, and again in the last few weeks. It was the expression of someone who’d seen their home get burnt down to the foundations and found themself sitting in the wreckage.

He knew the kind of news they were getting even before Reyna started telling them what had happened.

Thalia was easier to look at—Thalia, whose grief was all fury, small bolts of electricity dancing through her dark hair like she was the human embodiment of a storm cloud.

At that moment, she looked nothing like Jason. It was such a relief that Leo almost cried.

They’d won the battle against the emperors, but Reyna called it a Pyrrhic victory—one that was so disastrous for the victors that it was basically indistinguishable from a defeat.

New Rome was in ruins. So many had been wounded. Even more people were dead.

Leo felt sick to his stomach. He’d known some of these demigods. Not well, admittedly, but he’d fought side by side with them. The thought that so many lives had been cut short, and that none of the gods had bothered to interfere for the longest time, despite the fact that it was their kids down there, made him want to punch something. 

Knowing that at least some of them had probably been friends with Jason in the life he’d never properly remembered, and how desperately Jason had always tried to protect everyone when the gods couldn’t be bothered to… 

Leo clenched his trembling fists, flames dancing in his curls and licking at his arms, all the way up to his elbows.

He needed to go outside and cool down for a bit to avoid lighting Piper’s bedroom on fire by accident.

~~~~ They were talking about Jason’s funeral when he got back. Thalia hadn’t been able to make it, which felt like a punch to the gut. She hadn’t found out he’d died until after it was already over. Percy and Annabeth still didn’t know, and Reyna wasn’t sure about Nico.

And there was the regret Leo had been so terribly afraid of feeling. He didn’t regret keeping Piper safe, especially not after hearing just how hard-won the ensuing battle had been. She was sitting here, next to him, alive, and nothing would ever make him regret that. It wasn’t even that he suddenly thought attending the funeral would have brought him any closure. How the fuck could there ever be closure for something like this?

But the thought of Jason, who’d been abandoned by both of his parents and had his memory wiped by his patron—whose camp had barely looked for him after he’d gone missing—going into death alone, surrounded mostly by strangers who had only known the person he’d been before he’d lost his memories, if that, made Leo feel sick to the stomach. 

It didn’t matter that he knew Jason would have cared more about them being safe than he would have about them attending the funeral. It felt like failing him all over again.

“I ditched you both in life, and now he’s gone, and I couldn’t even bother to be there for him, then.”

His eyes were swimming again. Piper wrapped her arms around him wordlessly. 

Reyna—serious, stoic, collected Reyna—had an expression on her face like she wanted to reach through the Iris Message and pat his head.

“I held some private rites for him,” Thalia said gently. It wasn’t worded as a suggestion, but the meaning was clear anyway. “I’ve also spent a lot of extra time shooting arrows at stuff lately. It helps, if only a little.”

“The only thing I could shoot here is Leo, and he hasn’t annoyed me that much yet,” Piper commented, so Leo promptly kicked her in the shin. “Ow! Actually, keep it up and I might use you for target practice, after all.”

“You can’t. I still owe Thalia hot sauce.”

It was such an absurd statement that even Reyna almost cracked a smile. “Yeah, I’m going to need context on that one.”

~~~~

Two hours later, a rainbow image of Frank and Hazel popped up. The worst part of that conversation was them asking how exactly it had happened, because apparently Apollo had performed a song about it, which had been emotional but not super clear on the details. Piper struggled to tell the story again, and she was reassured several times that she didn’t have to, but she pushed through. The only slight comfort was that Jason would have been dead right away—hopefully he hadn’t been in pain for long.

The second worst part of the conversation was way more mundane: Frank asking what their plans were going forward. 

Leo didn’t think there would be much going forward for him, just in general. In his mind, he’d been planning on staying in this reprieve forever—playing video games and getting lost in the woods with Piper as they continued to pointedly ignore the emptiness of the third chair at their little table.

Jason’s face kept popping up in his dreams, but the days were mostly bearable as long as he was here with Piper.

But then Piper talked about school, and the classes she was planning to take, and the possibility of college somewhere in the area. She talked about her dad and camping and maybe getting a job to help out.

Things that a person with a normal life would have done.

And, okay, maybe a part of Leo had realized that his idea of the future wasn’t exactly realistic. He also realized he couldn’t stay 

there forever. He didn’t want to be a burden on Piper and Tristan. He knew how long Piper had been wanting to properly spend time with her dad, and now she actually had the chance to, and here Leo was, inserting himself right into the middle of their already complicated father-daughter-relationship. He wasn’t supposed to be here, messing this up for her.

As much as he disliked thinking about this, he couldn’t keep ignoring that particular part of reality. He’d already spent too much of his life in homes where he wasn’t wanted. He couldn’t stand the thought of bothering Piper so much that she started feeling that way about him, too.

As good as it felt to see Hazel and Frank, a part of Leo was relieved when they ended that call. The even more horrible, selfish part of him was also glad Hazel had promised to be the one who told Nico. Leo didn’t know him that well, but he knew Nico didn’t have many friends and that he’d already lost too much. That particular breakdown Leo felt like he was in no way equipped to handle. He could hardly even deal with himself right now.

The calls didn’t stop. 

Piper’s siblings called, asking how she was and what had happened, and so they had to tell the story again, tearing off the scab and making their wounds bleed all over the place. 

Then, like everything else wasn’t bad enough, Leo got an IM from a very anxious Harley, who seemed relieved he was alive and asked when he was coming back to camp. 

“Don’t know yet,” Leo said, forcing a smile. “Probably not for a while. I’ll call you, though. I promise.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell his kid brother that he wasn’t sure he was ever coming back—that even thinking about stepping into this place that was brimming with memories of Jason made him feel sick to the stomach.

Leo supposed he couldn’t blame Reyna for wanting to leave behind a city full of ghosts when he couldn’t even handle one of them.

~~~~

Shel invited Piper out for coffee two days later. Via letter, of all things, because obviously Piper hadn’t had a phone number to give her but Shel apparently wouldn’t let that stop her.

“You falling out of a tree really did it for her, hm?” Leo teased, trying to read the letter over Piper’s shoulder. 

“Har. Har. Har.”

“Hey, you were the one who said you liked me being supportive and annoying.” He nudged her. “Come on, what’s it say?”

“Like I told you, she just asked me to grab coffee with her.” She folded the letter before he could get a proper look at it, but Leo knew it had way too much text to just be that. 

“Liar.”

“Okay, okay.” Piper held up her hands defensively. “She really did just ask, but she might have done it with a poem.”

“Damn.” Leo raised his eyebrows. “You think she’s picked out engagement rings yet?”

“Shut up.”

“I will refer back to your comment about liking that I’m supportive and annoying again! You’ll never get me to shut my mouth now. Besides, I did promise to make you regret saying you missed me,” he teased her. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

Piper snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Shel’s picking me up in an hour. Are you sure you’ll be alright here on your own?” 

It was clear that she was reluctant to leave him, especially since her dad was at work. 

Truthfully, Leo wasn’t super thrilled about the thought of being alone, either. But it was clear that Piper wanted to do this, and that was more important than him not wanting to be alone for a few hours.

He could totally do this. He’d spent a pretty large chunk of his life alone. He had plenty of experience keeping himself busy.

“I’ve third-wheeled on enough of your dates for one lifetime, thanks,” Leo informed her, still grinning. “Besides, I should probably call my own girlfriend. That’ll be a lot less awkward without you being around to give me shit.”

Because contacting Calypso may have barely crossed his mind in the past few weeks due to him being both a garbage boyfriend and a garbage person just in general, but at least in theory, they were still dating.

Piper stuck her tongue out at him, and he just hoped his laugh wasn’t too obviously fake.

“For the record, though, this won’t be a date,” Piper said determinedly. “I’m not- I don’t think that would be fair to Shel. Not when I still have so much to figure out, and not when I’m still dealing with… you know.”

“For the record, I don’t think Jason would be the type to show up and haunt his ex during dates. If he does, let me know, because then I might have to unfriend him post-mortem.”

He knew Piper didn’t love when he made these kinds of jokes, but she never told him to stop. Humor had always been how he coped. Piper got that.

“Leo.” Piper groaned, exasperated. “Be serious for a second, yeah?”

“Oh, I’m super serious. Possessive ghost exes are a total friendship dealbreaker for me.” Leo nudged her again. “As the resident expert on constantly getting rejected, maybe don’t take my advice on this, but I don’t think there’s a timeline for these things. It’s okay if you find her cute. I think he’d want you to be happy. That’s the kind of awful sap he is.”

Leo realized he’d slipped into present tense again, but he didn’t have it in him to correct himself. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I do find her cute. I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship at the moment.”

“That’s fair.” Leo shrugged. “If I don’t get to be best man at your wedding, I’ll be really pissed, though.”

Piper stepped on his foot, so he kicked her in the leg and a moment later, they were swatting each other with pillows like they were little kids. Piper was actually laughing. For the first time in weeks, she seemed genuinely excited about something. And Leo wanted her to be happy. He was glad at least one of them was.

~~~~

The door closing behind Piper was terrifying. Suddenly, Leo was truly alone with his thoughts for the first time since Jason had died. Even late at night, when his thoughts inevitably drifted in all kinds of awful directions, Piper was there. Even if she was asleep and all he could do was hear her breathing, that still helped. This? Being alone with his thoughts in a completely quiet room? 0/10 experience, would not recommend.

He didn’t give himself much time to think. He rummaged around in his tool belt and pulled out a golden drachma for an Iris Message—as upset as Leo was with all the gods right now, he supposed at least his dad had the decency to actually give him an allowance—then pulled out the device he’d been working on. It was a small cylinder, no larger than the palm of his hand, and it obediently folded out into a prism at the push of a button. You just needed to fill it with water, switch it on, and voilà: you got yourself a rainbow. It even had an inbuilt flashlight in case you needed to use it when the sun was out.

He tried to swallow his anxiety and flipped the drachma into the rainbow.

“Iris, goddess of the Rainbow, please accept my offering. Show me Calypso. Waystation, Indianapolis.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the rainbow flickered and an image appeared—blurry at first, then slowly taking shape. Calypso was sitting at a desk by a window, brooding over some notebook that almost looked like…

Leo blinked.

“Huh, am just heroically saving you from your homework?”

Calypso’s head snapped up. Her eyes went wide as saucers. “Leo?” 

“I do recall that being my name, yes.” He grinned and waved. “Hi.”

He tried to remember how to talk to Calypso. The thing was, Leo wasn’t sure he’d ever actually known. Hell, even if he had, how exactly did you greet a girl you’d sort of ditched a few weeks ago and hadn’t called since?

Calypso didn’t look very amused. “Where are you? You were gone so long that- I was beginning to think you’d died!”

“Well, yeah, I did,” Leo said with a shrug. “That’s how I rescued you, remember?” 

It was easier to say that than to say anything else. To admit it really did feel like there was a part of him that had died and that he was never getting back. He didn’t want to have to actually talk about Jason—to tell the story again—especially not without Piper there. 

He realized his mistake a moment too late. Calypso’s eyes flared with anger.

“For the last time, you did not rescue me!” she snapped. “And do you think that’s funny? You disappear for weeks without a word, and that’s one of the first things you say to me? Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

Right. Joking back and forth with Piper had been so natural and easy that he’d briefly forgotten Calypso didn’t like it when he did that.

Okay, admittedly, Piper probably wouldn’t have appreciated that particular joke either. She would have crossed her arms and told him off. But they would have been okay, after.

He never felt like he and Calypso were okay, coming out of these arguments. Most of the time, he just felt like shit.

“Yeah, well, things happened. And it’s not my fault communications were down.” He didn’t look at the image in the rainbow.

“What is it?” Her voice softened a little. “What happened?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Well that’s not exactly helpful,” she huffed. “Will you tell me when you’re coming back home, at least? Maybe we can talk then.”

Leo was pretty sure he visibly winced at the word ‘home’. He wasn’t sure what the Waystation was, but he’d only spent a few days there. It wasn’t a bad place, but it most definitely wasn’t home. Home had burnt down when he’d been eight years old. The only other home Leo had ever found was ashes scattered across the ruins of New Rome now. 

Leo pushed the thought away. He had to keep it together. 

“I… listen, I don’t know yet. I just need some time to… I don’t know. Process, I guess.” 

“Process whatever it is you’re refusing to tell me about.” Calypso crossed her arms. “Fine. But you are coming back?”

There was an edge to her voice now—that of someone who had been left behind a few too many times. Over the course of her life, every person who’d ever kept her company had eventually dipped and left her heartbroken, never sparing her another thought. 

And now Leo had done the exact same thing.

Wow, he was a terrible person.

“Obviously.”

He couldn’t stay here. He couldn’t continue bothering Piper when she clearly wanted to at least try to move on. And he had promised Calypso to try and stay somewhere with her—to live a normal life with her. Going back on that wasn’t fair to her. Not even when he was sure he was too broken to live that kind of life—too broken for anyone to ever properly put him back together. 

Staying here wasn’t fair on poor Festus, either. Leo knew his dragon friend didn’t like being folded up into suitcase form as much as he was, but Piper’s new home wasn’t exactly made for huge metal dragons. 

Leo tried to keep talking to Calypso. He really did. She lit up a little when he asked about school, and so they talked about that for a while. Calypso told him about classmates she got along with and how she liked marching band and Emmie tutoring her in the subjects she didn’t understand. 

Leo listened and tried to get past the fact that he just didn’t get it. He tried to grasp her excitement for a place that had at best been boring as hell and at worst been actual torture for him. 

“That sounds… I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I wish you were here. You’ve already missed several weeks of classes, but I think you’d like this school.”

Leo almost laughed. “I highly doubt that. They have yet to invent a school that can even contain me, never mind one that I actually like.” 

“If you’re still refusing to engage in any sort of actual conversation with me that even vaguely implies there is a future where you may be coming back,” Calypso said bitingly, “will you at least tell me where you are so we can all stop worrying so much?” Leo kept brushing past the answer to that question because he knew it would prompt more questions that he wasn’t ready to get into. “Did you manage to help Camp Jupiter?”

“I-” Leo’s throat closed up. Not enough, his brain supplied. I couldn’t save Jason, and I couldn’t protect his home, either. I’m not sure me going there made a difference at all. He couldn’t bring himself to say any of that. “Kind of. I’m with Piper right now.”

Calypso’s expression soured even further.

“You ditched me and let me think you were dead for weeks so you could hang out with your friends? Let me guess, Jason is there, too.”

Somewhere, there was a rational part of Leo’s brain that realized this did sound bad. If he had been listening to that rational part right now, he probably could have had a mature conversation about this with Calypso. They could have resolved this like reasonable people.

But at the mention of Jason’s name, he just shut down. He did not tell Calypso anything. He just hung up on her.

~~~~

Leo showered, so by the time Piper got home he didn’t look like he’d spent the past hour curled up in a corner, bawling his eyes out.

Piper wasn’t an idiot, though. She knew that something was up the second she stepped through the door to find Leo in the kitchen making burritos.

“You okay?”

“Just got hungry.” He shrugged, like he wasn’t in fact trying to cook out the feelings he hadn’t been able to get rid of with his tears. It hadn’t really worked—cooking couldn’t exactly fix relationship issues or the fact that his best friend was dead—but rolling up the ingredients in one of his handmade tortillas at least helped keep his hands busy, and he actually was a little hungry. “You can have one, if you didn’t already eat on your date. Ingredients are pick what you want,” he said, gesturing at the mess of bowls and the still sizzling pan of fried tofu, “but they’re all vegetarian.”

“You are my favorite person in the whole entire world, and also definitely trying to distract me,” Piper said, shaking her head, but she did move to fill up one of the still-warm tortillas with a ridiculous amount of black beans, lettuce and tofu, combined with not nearly enough salsa, as far as Leo was concerned. “And it wasn’t a date.”

“Mhm, sure. Did you guys-” Leo broke off in horror. He’d been watching Piper work, and sure, he’d been lovingly judging some of her completely unbalanced food combos in his head, but this he could no longer tolerate. “Pipes, what in the world are you doing? I’m unfriending you.” 

He set his own food down on his plate and moved to stand beside his best friend. Screw the date interrogation, for now he had to save Piper’s poor tortured burrito.

“I thought I just had to roll the tortilla. Did I put too much stuff on it and that’s why it doesn’t work?”

She’d been trying to roll the entire thing in a single direction, impressively managing to make her excessive amounts of filling spill out of three sides at once. 

“This is what I get for briefly forgetting you grew up a rich kid with a private chef,” Leo groaned, shaking his head in exaggerated disbelief. He gently shoved Piper away from the kitchen counter to do rescue breathing on her half-slaughtered dinner. “You can’t roll it like that, you absolute heathen. You need to tuck the sides in. Here, like this. That way you won’t end up with ingredients all the way down your shirt.”

He gently opened the tortilla back up, took a spoon to move the filling Piper hadn’t spilled to the middle and then rolled it properly, like his mom had shown him when he’d been five. He made a point of doing it way slower than necessary, like he actually expected Piper to memorize the steps and maybe take notes.

“Okay, okay, point taken.” Piper raised her hands. “But heathen is a hilarious insult considering we both have a Greek god for a parent.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a riot.” Leo grinned, neatly cutting the burrito down the middle and handing the plate back to Piper. Then, he started wiping down the counter. Kitchens were the only work spaces Leo had ever properly bothered to keep tidy. “Now that neither you nor your food are at immediate risk of death, tell me how things went with Shel. You engaged yet? For your sake, I hope she’s better at rolling burritos than you, because otherwise you’re both doomed.”

He made a show of looking at her hands like he was actually expecting to find a ring.

“Shut up.” Piper rolled her eyes, but she smiled. “It was pretty great, actually.”

“Hello? Details?” Leo waved his hands in circles for emphasis. “You don’t seriously think I’m letting you off the hook that easily, do you?”

Instead of moving towards the table like she should have, Piper flopped down on the small couch with her food, so Leo grabbed his plate and joined her there. He wasn’t complaining about dinner on the couch.

“I’m only telling you if you tell me what’s up with you first. Because, distraction or not, you won’t get rid of me that easily, either.” She nudged him gently, then stuffed her mouth with food like she was trying to emphasize she wouldn’t go first.

Her face melted into a completely content expression, and Leo immediately felt happier.

“That good, hm?” Piper made a humming noise of confirmation. “Then I think you owe it to me to tell me how your date was. I promise I’ll tell you what’s up with me after,” Leo said with a grin.

He knew he had to give her something or she would never talk, but he really wanted to hear about Piper’s day before he went and ruined the mood.

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Piper sighed, letting herself fall against the sofa’s backrest dramatically. “Fine. But only because you’ll be completely unbearable otherwise.”

“You know me so well.”

Leo tried not to feel a sting at how great Piper’s day had been without him there. What he felt when she talked wasn’t the same painful sting he’d felt when it had been her and Jason dating, though Leo couldn’t quite explain why. Most of him didn’t mind this. Hell, most of him was happy for her.

But it certainly didn’t help the feeling that he wasn’t exactly needed here.

The not-date itself actually sounded pretty nice, as long as Leo managed to make all the useless voices in his head shut up.

Shel and Piper had grabbed coffee (which Leo couldn’t sympathize with) and just talked for ages. Shel was apparently on her school’s swimming team, did theatre in her free time and liked a lot of the same music and movies as Piper. She’d lived in Tahlequah her entire life. She’d also known she was a lesbian since she was eight years old.

At that point, Piper had apparently felt like she owed her some sort of heads up—both about the fact that she was still new to all this and about having recently lost a really close friend that she’d dated at some point and how that didn’t leave her with much headspace to figure out… everything else.

That seemed like a lot to share so early on, but Piper said Shel hadn’t minded. She’d just thanked her for being so honest, and told her she was there if Piper needed someone to talk everything through with.

“Which I obviously can’t, because well, if I told her a Roman Emperor came back to life and stabbed my ex, she’d definitely think I’ve lost it completely, but it’s a nice sentiment.”

“Yeah, I thought everything else was already a bit much, but ‘my mom is a Greek goddess, I can brainwash people and me and my friends saved the world last year’ really isn’t a conversation for a first date.”

Leo wasn’t sure how Piper could stand it. The thought of having to keep most of his life secret from a mortal parent and any new friends he made seemed impossible to him. Hell, even if he’d wanted to, Leo was pretty sure he’d inevitably slip up and make a joke about the time he almost got eaten by a giant killer shrimp, and that was if he didn’t anxiously catch himself on fire first.

“Anyway, she said it’s totally understandable that I need time, and if the worst she can get out of this is a friendship with a pretty girl, that’s still a win in her book. And she still insisted on paying, to welcome me here,” Piper told Leo fondly. “It was… I don’t know. She’s nice. I’ll probably end up at the same school as her, and she’s offered to show me around.”

“So, how soon can I expect a wedding invite?” Leo asked with a grin. “You’ll remember the best man thing, right?”

“Keep this up and you won't get an invite if I do actually get married one day,” she teased back, gently flicking him in the head. “Now, tell me what’s going on with you. You promised. Did your call with your girlfriend go okay?”

Leo winced, which was answer enough in his opinion, but he knew Piper would disagree with him on that one. He still didn’t want to have this conversation. He also really didn’t want to bring Piper down when she’d finally had a good day for the first time in ages.

But she was looking at him expectantly, and Leo knew that no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

“It wasn’t great. Apparently, me being gone for so long had everyone pretty worried. Go figure,” he admitted, hoping he could avoid elaborating. He didn’t exactly want to dump all of his relationship issues on Piper, especially since there wasn’t anything she could do to fix them. He knew it was sort of necessary to keep talking, but he could barely get the words out. “And, uh. Because of that, I think it might be time for me to head back to the Waystation.”

It was something he’d been thinking about on and off since that IM with Frank and Hazel. And as much as the thought of going back made his stomach pool with dread, the call with Calypso had just sealed the deal. Once he’d managed to stop crying like a baby and his heart had quit throbbing out a painful rhythm of Jason, Jason, Jason until he couldn’t breathe, Leo had at least tried to figure out what he wanted to do now. He couldn’t keep staying with Piper, who was finally starting to be somewhat okay again. He couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that he’d just ditched Calypso for the world’s longest, most depressing sleepover.

If he wanted any chance to salvage that situation, and if he wanted to give Piper a chance to actually move on instead of continuously dragging her down with him when he didn’t want to move on the way she was trying to, then he had to go back to the Waystation.

The teasing smile slid off Piper’s face.

“Oh,” she said, her lip wobbling a little. “Do you really have to go?”

Leo felt almost relieved that Piper seemed sad, though he realized maybe that was a bit of a shitty reaction on his part. At least he hadn’t completely annoyed his way out of this friendship just yet.

“See, that’s why I refused to go first. Instant mood killer.” He tried for a half-smile. “But yeah, I should probably go back soon. I’ve kind of been neglecting my girlfriend a whole bunch—I haven’t seen her in over a month, which is pretty shitty of me. Besides, poor Festus deserves to be in a place where it’s easier for him to stretch his legs. You know he doesn’t like being in sleep cycle this much.”

Piper wrapped her arms around herself. “I guess that makes sense, but- do you have to leave right now?” 

Leo shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think another day or two will make a difference at this point. I’m going to get an earful once I get back either way.”

“Okay. Good. I know that you can’t stay here forever. But I need a few more days with you. I’m sure Festus will forgive you eventually.” Piper was obviously trying to sound like she was teasing him, but something pleading, almost desperate crept into her voice, which had Leo worried. 

“Yeah. Festus.” Leo cringed internally. He actually wasn’t all that worried about Festus staying mad at him—sure, he might pout for a bit and would probably complain most of the way back to the Waystation, but he was usually easily appeased with enough motor oil, Tabasco sauce and maybe an upgrade or two.

Leo was unfortunately pretty sure his relationship issues with Calypso would need fixing that was beyond the magical abilities of Tabasco sauce—though what would fix them, he had absolutely no idea.

Them having problems wasn’t exactly new, and hadn’t entirely been caused by him running off on her now—even if that admittedly hadn’t helped.

“So, are we doing the world’s longest goodbye movie marathon, or do you need me for anything specific?” Leo joked, trying to hide his relief at getting to stay for a few more days, consequences for his relationship with Calypso be damned. “I know you’ve been lucky to bask in my presence for so long, I’d be reluctant to let me go, too, but that sounded like you might have actual plans.”

Piper didn’t laugh. She didn’t even roll her eyes at him, which was a terrible sign. 

“If you really have to leave, there’s something I want to do first.” She reached out and took his hands with shaking fingers. “I- I’ve been thinking. About what Thalia said. And I want to find a way to properly say goodbye, too. But I don’t think I can do this without you.”

Leo felt like someone had punched him. He could basically feel the way all color drained from his face at Piper’s words.

“I- I don’t know if I can-” he stammered, fighting his instinct to immediately turn on his heels and run—out of this room and this house and preferably the entire state of Oklahoma.

Joking about it was one thing. Facing the reality of it—the fact that Jason was truly gone and he’d never get to see him or hug him or joke with him again—was an entirely different beast.

Leo wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for that.

“You don’t have to say or do anything you don’t want to. I promise,” Piper told him, gently squeezing his hand. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t feel ready for, okay? I just need you there. Please?”

Piper wasn’t charmspeaking him. Leo would have known if she was, and he knew that she’d never do that to him—not when it came to something as important as this. But she was looking at him with such wild desperation in her eyes that it was still impossible for him to say no.

It didn’t matter if this didn’t help him. Piper needed it. He’d left her for over six months. She was the one who’d actually been present when Jason had died.

The thought of that kept him up at night. He kept imagining Piper kneeling over Jason. Piper shaking Jason’s shoulders and screaming his name, hoping desperately for an answer she’d never receive. Piper clutching Jason’s body to her chest for the very last time. Piper wailing on that awful beach while Leo was a thousand miles away.

He hadn’t been there for her when she’d needed him the most. This was the least he could do to start making things up to her.

“Okay,” he said, reaching out to pull Piper into his arms. It was a mostly selfish act, really—if he hadn’t been holding onto something, Leo wasn’t sure how he would have kept himself from falling apart. “What do you want to do?”

“Jason wasn’t just a Roman demigod. Not since-” Piper broke off, but Leo caught her meaning anyway. Not since he met us. “He belonged to both camps. That was important to him. I think he should have a proper Camp Half-Blood funeral, too.”

———

Some more notes:

So, it’s been six months since I posted the first chapter of this fic and about fourteen months since I first started working on it, and I am delighted to announce that it’s finally done! I can therefore reliably promise both weekly updates and that this fic won’t be abandoned partway through! Hooray!

It still feels kind of dizzying whenever I think about this story actually being done considering how long it’s been my main writing project. I originally thought this whole fic was going to be done in like three chapters. It turns out what my brain wanted instead was a whole Leo Valdez novel. I cannot say that I, personally, am upset about this outcome.

Special shout-out to my friends who have listened to me ramble and rant about this fic for months LMAO

I poured a lot of love into this story and I hope you’ll have a good time with it! Comments obviously super, super appreciated. Thank you all for reading!

Tag list: @poppitron360 @bookIshpolythist @lilyfrey @lady-silkwing @intenebrisobscurat @manygeese @ann-rex

(If anyone wants to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!)

[notbecauseofvictories]

also, just as a coda to that last post---if you think "spend a week making a needlessly complicated dessert" has fixed me, I was searching for ways to use up the extra heavy cream and milk....and discovered recipes for making cheese. So this inexplicable, needlessly elaborate train can just go on rolling!

[fuumiku]

Harpy mickrin AU yay! Sorta loosely set in Aatom87's harpy & zookeeper AU- Rin is a sooty owl and Mickbell is a cockatiel. You know how parrots are...

The zoo keeps them in the same enclosure out of lack of funds to try and fix behavioral issues. Rin was being too self-isolating and Mickbell was starting shit with other harpies and bonded with zookeeper Kuro instead, which is unhealthy, so they put them in a side enclosure to bond together and assigned Kabru to it instead. Thus they are forced to have enrichment together.

Kabru has it tough since they both act like they hate him, except one is only a tsundere act lol. Mickbell like "huh?? You stealing my cagemate punk?? Wanna fight??" and he's not even wrong lol. Tiny bird very angry very aggressive, cue Kabru getting scratched every day... Kabru leaving their enclosure after a whole showdown of cockatiel Mick screaming scratching biting inflicting him little wounds and then Mick goes right back to "I'm just a little guy"ing @ Rin. Keep going buddy i'm sure... one day...... you'll win her over and make her laugh. Or something.

Although hmmm Kabru hating monsters would mean he wouldn't work there in the first place. Maybe.... He's there undercover to investigate the zoos for corruption or animal-monster abuse or smth... And the injured Mithrun harpy is evidence that he has to take under his wing ba dum tss <- this is how my AUs get out of control

I love Mickbell's stiff paintbrush of a ponytail so much

[garyfiddlesticksdammit]

hey tumblr, potential blood warning here. it could pass as pie filling but for any of my folk who aren't a big fan of any potential blood!!! don't look further!!!

yea. uhh. these two... apple pie, guys...

[purewater100]

Your "babygirl" just killed several people.

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

his ass is NOT listening

[adiosterror]

Oh shit, surprise ult dirk art!!

I'm absolutely in love with the artstyle of @/workdailylog (too scared to ping lol) and it really inspired me to experiment with more simplistic artwork instead of stressing about shading and lineart and whatever,, this is the result!!! I'm so so happy with it, especially the hands hehe

[honeyed-blossom]

I am in love with your mc. Your art is so pretty. I love the way you draw Sebastian & Ominis too. Do you ship your mc with anyone?

AHHH HELLO HELLO THANK YOU!!! 💕🩷💕💘💘 YOU’RE TOO SWEET OMG OMG 🙈🙈🙈🙈

omigodyouliterallmademyday thank you for the kind words!!! 🥺🫶🫶 I’m glad you like my cotton candy haired daughter 🥹

To answer your question - yes!! I ship her with Sebastian!

I feel like Valeria’s the type to have a lot of crushes, but her biggest crush was on Sebastian after he took the fall for her at the restricted section. It wasn’t something she acted on, though; she just thought he was charming. They became good friends throughout fifth year and grew even closer that summer. Sebastian was her rock as she processed everything with Ranrock, Professor Fig, and her ancient magic. In return, she stood by him as he dealt with Solomon and Anne. It wasn’t until much later in their sixth year that she realized she had feelings for him.

They would constantly flirt with each other, and sometimes they’d hold hands “for fun.” Val was flirty by nature with all her friends, so she didn’t think much of it and passed it off as something that really good friends did. Really good friends who cuddled in the undercroft as they read until they drifted off to sleep, or star-gazed from the Astronomy Tower, huddled together in one blanket, or called each other endearing names like “honeybunches,” “sweetling,” and “darling.” She’s dumb, I’m sorry. Val is incredibly perceptive when it comes to other people she can spot a couple from a kilometer away but she’s really dense when it comes to herself. Eventually, Ominis had had enough of her nonsense and sat her down to explain what love was, as well as how to deliver him a swift death.

[invisiblemelonmoose]

Thinking about how I rarely get the yuri I want in non-yuri specific media that has canon queer characters or a least a sizable yuri fanbase

[itskrejsaitsparty]

work rant