#sorry i was forced to read 'do people with ADHD every shut up and not use it as an excuse for their mistakes' and it pissed me off

[nero-neptune]

this is gonna sound Crazy, i know, but i think there's a difference btwn someone assuming every single little symptom on the planet is an adhd thing And someone with actual adhd posting about their personal frustrations with living with the damn thing.

[borathae]

UGH!!! "What You Deserve" got brought up again which means I obviously had to read it again because YoonKook obvs...

But OMG????? It reminded me of why I relate so hard to Kookie because of my ADHD, which might be a strange comparison, but hear me out, lol

I'm in my 30s and didn't get diagnosed until I was like 28. All those years I spent being totally unable to understand why I couldn't do anything right at all.

Granted, I wasn't ripping throats out, but I felt totally out of control of my own body. I couldn't sleep right, eat right, wake up right...my brain would shut down at work whether I liked it or not, and I'd lose things that were literally just in my hand. It filled me with such self-loathing I would have screaming fits AT myself, and it was just... bad. For a lot of years. Until I started therapy and medication (my yoongi, essentially 😭).

This is really where Yoonkook and the whole motivation for this ask comes in lol.

When I started to get "better," I couldn't recognize it. I would revert back to old patterns of "yes, this isn't the worst I've been, but that doesn't mean I'm doing well." Every time I didn't fit the (factually very unreasonable) expectations I'd set for myself it would be a whole session of thinking about how even with help I wasn't meeting my goals, I wasn't good enough, how I didn't have *control* of myself yet.

Much like Kookie, i couldn't see myself as others did, and it took other people explaining what I already knew in different ways to finally appreciate my progressions. Even blowing past normal expectations didn't feel good, and it took a long time to stop hating myself for not meeting expectations no one had set for me.

The way Yoongi flat out gave Kookie timelines of years and decades, yet Kookie made those leaps in WEEKS and MONTHS while still doubting himself...DAMN it is so painfully relatable. I love that we get to see this for him, blowing expectations out of the water and being forced to acknowledge that's what he's done. It's so cathartic!

Thank you so much for writing and sharing with us. You're doing so well, and your art is so healing for me. I'm just in love with all your characters and your brain, I swear 😭😭💜💜💜

(Sorry, long post over lol)

This made me very happy to hear :( I never thought that my brainless, made my pussy smut would have such a big impact on someone :( thank you so much sharing you story with us heheh I love you lots and lots 🥺💜💜

[thedeadhandofseldon]

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and  worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

[barbarianprncess]

is there a reason you’re blushing like that !!!!

i actually loved writing this so thank you for the prompt!

forever house

read on ao3

or

“Mom, I’m home!” Percy calls distractedly into their apartment as he wrestles with his skateboard.

“Hi honey,”  Sally answers from the couch, and he can hear the smile in her voice when she says “There's a surprise for you in your bedroom.” He furrows his brow and hurries upstairs. He opens his bedroom door expecting cookies and is instead greeted with familiar blonde hair and a bed overrun with papers far too complicated to be his own. He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face at the sight of his girlfriend, still in her Catholic school uniform.

“Hey!” He leans over his bedspread being very careful not to wrinkle her designs to plant a kiss on her cheek. “How’s my favorite genius?”

“Hey Percy.” Annabeth is currently scrambling to get her papers in order, which he finds odd because usually when he calls her a genius she’ll smile and kiss him extra gently. And then she only needs a little prodding and he can get her to explain what she's working on. She gets this crinkle in the corner of her eyes when she talks about her projects and gesticulates wildly to get him to understand. It’s awesome.

But right now, Annabeth is beet red, eyes manic, and piling papers with a vengeance. He’s not entirely sure what’s happening but Annabeths got this look in her eye- like one wrong move and she’s gonna bolt. “What’re you working on?”

“Nothing!” She says voice cracking in a way that clues him in on the fact that the subject of her stress but her work. Which Percy finds ridiculous because he may not understand the nuanced and complicated world of design, but Annabeth’s smarter than anyone, she’ll figure whatever it is out. Annabeth gets like this sometimes- ADHD fixation and her need for perfection is a combo that doesn’t mix well and in the months that they’ve been dating, there have been more than a few times when Percy had to loosen her fistes curled around her designs in frustration, and talk her down from a panic attack because Apollo didn’t love his statue. Percy hates that her work does that to her, but he likes taking care of her.

“Annabeth,” He says slowly, hands already positioned to relieve her of the designs that she managed to wrangle in her lap, but she bats them away.

“No, no it's not- I’m not.” She looks up at him and her eyes soften at his concern. “I’m fine, seriously I’m not stuck on anything.” Percy raises his eyebrows skeptically.

“Sooo… is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Annabeth's hands fly up to her neck as if she can stop the flush of her skin from the outside. Which is a mistake on her part because Percy immediately grabs the blueprint she was so desperately trying to hide. She lunges for it, causing the remaining papers to fall forgotten on the floor, but Percy's growth spurt, along with the angle she’s sitting on his bed, makes it so he’s able to keep her at bay.

“Percy!! Give it back, oh my gods, I’m gonna kill you!” He’s heard that before and he’s still breathing so, he takes his chances. He makes out the words “Forever House: Annabeth Chase”, and a vague sketch of what looks like a shoreline. He catches Montauk and something about support beams when Annabeth finally succeeds in snatching the paper from him. She’s flushing even harder now, and her hands are covering her face.

“Which of the gods are asking for a forever house?” He laughs until he notices Annabeth shaking her head and she lets out a muffled ‘none of ‘em’ from behind her hands.

“Hey, hey Annabeth.” He says softly poking at her sides and pinching at her cheeks (he gets mostly fingers because she’s still covering her face but, all the better to grab her hands with). She sighs and lets him take her hands and sit on the edge of the bed, still not meeting his eyes. He squeezes the fingers in his grasp, a silent promise not to make fun of her, and she takes a deep breath and forces out an explanation.

“Well, a couple weeks ago, while I was waiting for you to get out of school, me and your mom talked for a while and she mentioned some of your trips to Montauk and how much you loved them, and we were looking at pictures and she mentioned how you always said you wanted to live there, right on the beach when you got older, and inspiration kinda struck and I started sketching out your hypothetical beach house. And I guess subconsciously, your beach house became a version of…. the forever house.”

Now, Percy’s heard of the hypothetical ‘forever house’ before. Annabeth had told him once about her favorite theoretical place, created when she was little. Having lost every person and place she was told to call home, caused a deep distrust for anywhere she lived in the future. (He doesn’t blame her, he’s not sure he could ever trust anything if he went through what she went through before Luke turned to Kronos- let alone everything she went through after.) So to cope, in her head she’d design a house that she’d build when she was older- now known as the forever house. She told him she daydreamed about building it, how it’d be open and bright with huge windows so she’d never feel alone again. But, despite its openness, it’d be sturdy and rooted in place. The design and location changed over time but it always had big windows and it was always immobile. And no matter what happend, that house would be her ‘something permanent’. Her forever house.

As what she was saying registered, Percy’s smile grew impossibly wide. Annabeth must’ve assumed he was laughing at her and deflated. “I know, it’s stupid and creepy just forget it ok I didn’t mean-”

He let go of her hands as she rambled and cut her off with a kiss. He wasn’t sure how to articulate what he was feeling with words, so he let his body speak for him. His thumb swipes at her cheek (I’m sorry that you had to build a house in your head because the people that were supposed to love you didn’t, it wasn’t your fault, thank you for trusting me anyway), he runs fingers through her hair (It’s an honor to be a part of your future, I’m going to care about you, on purpose, for as long as you’ll let me), he tilts up her chin to deepen the kiss (I love you, all of you).  

When they part he rests his forehead on hers and allows himself a minute to be in awe of her. He learned a long time ago that Annabeth was brave. But after learning so many of the intimate details of her past, he thinks that her ability to love at all is an act of bravery. Everytime she tells him a secret, or holds his hand, or lets him walk through one of her walls is an act of rebellion. To love Annabeth is to be in awe of her relentless courage.  

“Thank you.” He whispers. He doesn’t clarify what for and she doesn’t ask. She just smiles something small and says, “You’re welcome.”

He kisses her forehead because he can and half-laughs out, “You made me a house.”

“Ugh.” She buries her head in his shoulder bites at his collarbone in annoyance. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t, you love me, you know how I know?”

“I’m begging you to shut up.”

“Because you made me a house!” He says gleefully into her hair.

Annabeth shoves him back on the bed and he pulls her down with him. She half on top of him, face buried in his chest when she retorts,

“I made us a house.”

He hopes she doesn’t mind when his arms tighten around her. It’s instinct. And a necessity. And when he whispers i love you into her hair, it's a silent promise. A promise to do anything and everything possible to get them to that house one day. From the way she smiles into his shirt, she’s gonna do the same.

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Cooking (Denki x fem!reader)

Pairing(s): Denki x fem!reader

Warning(s): cussing, smut/18+ (minors DNI), sucking d*ck, switch Denki, mentions of ADHD

Word Count: 2,465

A/N (IMPORTANT ONE): everyone in this story is aged up to the 19, UA is a college in this AU but everything else is the same. So they are NOT minors and they are freshman in college!

A/N: request are always so pen so go ahead and drop on by, either leave the request in my inbox OR toy are more then welcome to message me if you want more detail or just want to get to know me :)

Playlist I made so you can listen to coming while reading this: https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6KD7SsmFn8QM4bp3BP6DCV_ML1B2AZC3

You laid on the couch, relaxed and in a comfortable position where anything can happen. You where watching this new anime called Demon Slayer that Mina recommend to you. Saying something along the lines of his hit the guys where. Honestly, you didn’t get the hype, but it was pretty entertaining and you didn’t have anything else better to do then to study and actually get work done so why the hell not? Little did you know a little spark plug was about to attack you. That little spark plug going by the name of Denki Kaminari. He was annoying as fuck and you didn’t want him around. But he kept coming back for more so you let him in your life and you guy’s had this little friends-with-benefits thing going on.

“BOO!” Denki screamed on the top of his lungs, you jumped in fear and got your quirk ready. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stared at the honey eyed boy.

“You shit head! I was at a scary scene!” You hissed, slapping Denki on the back of his head like Bakugou’s Mom did to him from time-to-time when the bakusquad was over at the angry blonde’s house.

“Sorryyy!” Denki wined, rubbing his head slightly as he mumbled some cussing under his breath. You rolled your y/e/c eyes before staring at the blonde again.

“What do you want?” You asked, annoyance filling your voice and clicking your judgement slightly. The screams of Tanjiro still ringing from the TV.

“Well I had this ADHD burst of energy and I will want to bake a cake but I can’t do it alone because if I do it alone then I will make a mess and then I will clean it up and then I will start cleaning and then—“ Denki kept on rambling about this whole chain of effects that would happen if you didn’t bake with him. You rolled your eyes and stared him straight in his bright electric yellow eyes. You paused for a moment, thinking of ways to shut the teenage male up. A idea popped in your head as you smirked and grabbed the back of Denki’s neck and drawing him towards your lips. Leaning in closer and kissing his slightly puffy lips. He was wearing the same cherry chapstick that you commented that smelled good before you noticed that Denki liked you. You always guessed that this was a way for Denki to get you to notice him. The kids went on for a few minutes before you took over and pushed him on his back against the couch. The blonde gasped between the kiss, his eyes started to water a little at the sudden reaction. Before things to get out of hand you broke the kiss and smiled at the blonde. Keeping a poker face on as you pulled away and swiped away the drool that was connected the two of your mouth’s. You giggled a little, a cocky smile dragging across your face.

“Shut up…” You leaned in and whispered into Denki’s ear, biting his ear lobe a little and giggling a little as Denki choked back a moan that was forcing it’s way up his throat.

“Y-yes ma’am…” Denki whimpered submissively, his lip quivering slightly as you let go of his ear and going towards the dorm room kitchen. Denki followed you like a lost puppy dog, he would be a good little puppy. You chuckled slightly at the joke that you made up in your head.

“What type of cake do you want to bake?” You prompted, getting the pantry open and seeing what cake mixes you guy’s had and if you needed to go get in a car and drive to the gas ration at this god forbidden hour.

“Oooh chocolate!” Denki cheered, a childish smile plastered across his face as he bounced up and down. You chuckled and looked across the pantry to see if you guy’s had any chocolate.

“Well,” you started to say, smacking you lips and staring at the pantry with a disappointment look on your face. “Crap.”

“What?”

”We don’t have any chocolate cake mix.”

“Shit.”

You closed the pantry door and went towards your dorm room to grabs out jacket and skateboard. “Wait dude, did you customize your skateboard?” Denki awed as he stared at your Haikyuu inspired skateboard that had Bokuto on it. You nodded your head ‘yes’ and fully pulled on a y/f/c hoodie.

“Yeah, I started customizing skateboard’s over the summer when we graduated UA” You answered Denki’s question fully and explained it. A smile on your face as you glanced back at the blonde-and-black haired male as he ran to grab his yellow hoodie and skateboard. His late board looked plainer then yours but that is probably because he used it more then you did. You smiled brightly at Denki before going outside of the dorms. Denki spoked followed and the two of you started skating down the street.

”We should do this more!” Denki exclaimed, a playful smirk on his face as he started to do more tricks on the skateboard. You laughed at Denki and started video him for a tiktok. The tiktok was of him singing the lyrics of Alien Boy and having a blast of his time.

“You’re such a dork…” You scoffed as you stopped recording the tiktok and editing it. Not even having to look up to know the way where the gas station was.

“Can you send me the tiktok?” Denki requested, you looked at him and gave him a ‘are you serious?’ Look before agreeing with a nod of your head and sending the tiktok to him the moment you posted it. You guy’s started to skate more, trying to impress the other guy doing some more tricks. But soon, you got to the gas station and stopped the both of your skateboards and set hem down on the outside red brick wall. You and Denki imminently went to the candy section and got some chocolate box cake along with some different flavors of monster. You bought for everything.

“Did you get everything you where looking for?” The cashier asked, looking at the two of you and smiling tiredly.

“Yeah we did, thanks!” You chirped, getting out your card and paying for the stuff. Denki grabbed the monster and opened it up as you guy’s grabbed the skateboard the started heading out the front door. Laughing at dumb jokes that you guys cracked with each other.

*when you two got to the dorm’s because I know y’all waiting for the 18+ part you sinners*

Denki and you started following the directions, baking the cake and putting it in the oven and setting the timer for a hour. “There!” You declared, pumping your fist up in the air. Luckily you guy’s could be as loud as you wanted due to the fact that it is Spring Break and everyone went to there parents house. Well everyone but you and Denki. Your parents never wanted you to begin with, from the very start, they made it very clear that they didn’t want you. So why would you want to got there? Of course the bakusquad knows this. The plan was that everyone I the bakusquad was going to stay so you won’t have to to alone in the dorms but everyone seemed to have plans.

Crimson Riot had a book signing contest so Kirishima just had to go catch up on that, he seemed to be very upset to at he left you and promised that he would call you every night and FaceTime you for hours upon hours. Well, you checked your phone every second it seemed for the past two days and still no sign of Kirishima.

Bakugou’s parents got into a fight and they got a divorce so Bakugou had to go home for that. He didn’t seem to sad or caught up about it, although, you swore to yourself that you heard sobs coming from Bakugou’s dorm room after he told you over text that he couldn’t stay. So far he has texted you every once and a while and checked on you, made sure you where taking care of yourself.

Mina was going to a party and didn’t really seem to care that she was leaving you alone. Not that she was petty or anything she just never seemed to mind if she dropped her plans when they involved you. She gave you a couple of drunk text but nothing more and nothing less.

Sero didn’t talk to you about the thing, he said he would be there for you but he left you alone so you didn’t know where he was. Although, from what his Instagram story told you, he has in Disney with his family and having the trike of his life.

Jiro got her first new hit for a album of her song covers and needed to leave you. It was very emotional and you could tell that she didn’t want to leave you alone but she had to since her family was struggling and she wanted to make them proud.

But Denki stayed with you, the whole time, there was not a time that you thought ‘oh, Denki isn’t going to be there for me’ or ‘oh, I can’t count on Denki to be here’ because he always was and he always will be right by your side. Ever since the two of you where kids and Denki first got his quirk, you still remember that day, he went to hug his best friend but accidentally shocked him and the kid died of electrocution. He cried for hours and hours in class and (from what you heard) in his own home. Refusing to hug anybody until he got into middle school and you came along. You guys had known each other due to your parents working together in the same hero agency but you never started building a friendship until middle school. A lot of people say that relationships end in middle school and high school but in reality. That is when Denki and yours started to bloom.

“Remember when you first got your quirk?” You popped up, laughing a little as the tips of Denki’s ears turned a flush red.

“HEY I THOUGHT WE AGREED TO NEVER TALK ABOUT THAT!” Denki pouted, crossing his arms and trying to be mad at you.

“Oh ok…I am sorry…” You whispered in a pretend hurt voice, knowing full well that Denki will come crawling back to you once you had the slight hurt tone in your voice.

“Wait no! Baby!! Come here!!” Denki exclaimed, wrapping you in a warm hug, you burst into laughter and hugged Denki back. Feeling bad for the honey eyed male for the millionth time in your life (no but like seriously, how did this man get you to feel bad about everything?)

“Its fine Denki.” You reassured the worried teenager with some pats on the head and a kiss on the forehead. Denki smiled innocently at you before pushing you against the couch. “Oof!” You gasped as you felt he fabric press against your back. Denki smirked in accomplishment.

“GOT YOU!” Denki declared proudly, trying to pin you down on your back. You cocked your brow up slightly and flipped you and Denki over so you where on top and he was on bottom. Denki whined and bit his lip, eyes looking at you in a pleading sort of way. You smirked seductively and leaned down to kiss Denki. Your lips crashing with his, biting the male’s slightly pink lips to ask for entrance (which he obeyed instantly). You slipped your tongue into the wet cavern of Denki’s mouth and started exploring every inch of it and sucking on his tongue a little bit. Denki moaned into the kiss and started grinding his body against your pants and whining like a submissive bitch. You chuckled darkly and brought your hand to mess with his hair before yanking his hair and making him break the kiss. A string of saliva connected your two mouths and you just swiped it off and shoved your fingers inside of Denki. Smiling slightly as he gagged.

“Want me to suck your dick slut?” Your horse whisper sounded in Denki’s ear as you bite his ear lobe and tugged on it slightly. Denki nodded his head ‘yes’ before letting out a string of moans. You smirked in accomplishment of breaking the presumably top nineteen year old who flirted with all the girls at school. You pulled down Denki’s sweatpants and boxers in one Swift motion all while keeping eye contact with him. Going down on your knee’s you opened your mouth and started sucking Denki off. Your tongue swirling around his head as you slowly started going deeper and deeper until you felt it go to the back of your throat. Once you felt that your head bobbed up and down, Denki moaned loudly and threw his head back in pure pleasure. Mumbling out praises and barely forming a sentence. You smiled to yourself as you reached down and started rubbing circles along your clit, you tongue almost lolling out to the side of Denki’s duck at the pleasure of hitting the sweet spot.

“You’re such a girl girl yeah you suck my dick yeah you suck that duck so well yeah you do…” Denki managed to say before moaning loudly again at the sight of you touching your self and sucking him off. He is in complete heaven. You felt Denki’s thighs tense up around your head and you stared up at him. Expecting him to say something. “I’m gonna cum…!” Denki mumbled out before moaning again and letting his sex face out. You moaned around Denki’s dick and that caused both of you to cum at the same time. You guy’s where a panting mess on the floor. Denki had his legs spread wide and your head was all fuzzy and not cleared out with good thoughts. You guy’s stood there, a few comfortable in the air as both of you where a shaking mess. Soon, you got up and carried Denki to the other corner of the couch and grabbed a large fluffy gray blanket along with some large pillows. On nights like these, Denki liked it if you took charge in the aftercare stuff. Not even letting you two get changed until the morning. You smiled warmly at the goofy blonde who laid there on the couch, almost fast asleep, while you played Death Note (he says it is to scary so you like watching it when he is asleep or cuddling with you).

“Hey baby?”

“What’s up Pikachu?”

“Did we ever get that cake out of the oven?”

“…”

“…”

“Shit.”

[bpdanakins]

i just infodumped to my friends about bpd anakin and i have No Regrets snakjdkajfsk

anyway, doth thee have any more bpd anakin (or just anakin in general) headcanons becuase i am living for this

I am So Sorry this took so long, but hopefully the length makes up for it. Thank you so much for sending this to me bc BPD!Anakin is my entire life. I could talk about it all day, every day.

I’d like to thank @apple-grass-and-smiles for helping me organize my Thoughts on all of this, prompting me to focus on certain things and giving me feedback in general too. 

Okay, here goes:

Anakin fidgets!! I’m not even sure if this is a headcanon but if it is I will die on this hill. He can’t stay still for the life of him and doubly so when he’s anxious, nervous or Ready To Do Something Already. 

We know Anakin can’t hold eye contact to save his life when he’s upset or insecure, but I can also see him having issues with touch when he’s upset, unless it’s from certain people only (Padmé always gets a pass, for example).

Anakin’s quick to let some small stuff go, but larger things people do that hurt him (whether intentionally or not) aren’t really ever forgotten, and he just kind of takes that in and suppresses it, until random moments when it pops up, he remembers, and it just hurts like it’s happening all over again. The people around him often have no idea what fully sets him off, bc to them, his reaction now seems out of nowhere while his mind’s still stuck on this other thing.     - His reactions also seem sometimes like they’re Over The Top, but even just remembering past hurts can feel almost disabling at times. It’s worse when he ends up ruminating on it, because the hurt and feelings of betrayal just keep building up over and over until it almost blots everything else out.

When he’s happy or surrounded by those he loves, everyone kind of can feel it too, bc he’s just fuckoff powerful in the Force and esp other Force sensitives kind of gather around his space and just… his affection and excitement are literally infectious. 

This probably runs closer to ADHD than BPD for sure, but get him talking about anything mechanical (robotics, engineering, racing, etc) and he will go from 0 to 100 so fast you’d get whiplash. No one minds though bc, as I said, his excitement is infectious and honestly those around him just adore listening to him go off even though half of it goes over their head.     - Ahsoka may not ever get Gotta Go Fast, but she definitely loves it when he really talks her ear off about all this stuff, bc it makes her excited to learn and she picks up on all of it easily. (There’s a part of her that wants to emulate him and she does def look up to him obviously.)     - We see it with Obi-Wan, but people love to use his love of all things mechanical as a way to distract him from things that upset him. It doesn’t always work but they try.

With Obi-Wan, he ends up on the side of Anakin’s splitting like, all the time. And unfortunately sometimes Obi-Wan can’t tell that Anakin’s lashing out not because of something Obi-Wan’s actually done, but bc Anakin’s young and Obi-Wan’s the figure he can project a lot of his frustrations on.     - It can lead Obi-Wan to being confused and hurt sometimes, bc he doesn’t always understand Anakin’s thought processes when this happens, and it definitely sometimes cuts him to the core. On the reverse side, though Anakin might not always say it to his face, Obi-Wan definitely can overhear him at times when Anakin’s ready to 1v1 anyone who even so much as makes a frowny face about Obi-Wan, which helps Obi-Wan remember that Anakin does love him too, actually.     - It ends up being one of the points of frisson between Anakin and Mace, bc Anakin can’t read body language perfectly, especially when it comes to feelings of abandonment or someone seemingly not loving who Anakin loves to the same degree. Mace has a drier sense of humor at times and defs has a more resting frowny face, and this rankles Anakin at times bc he can’t always tell when Mace is just chilling vs being disappointed, and while Anakin will take it all personally, he ALSO takes any perceived criticism to those he loves personally too.     - Both Mace and Obi-Wan don’t get this bc they have a perfectly fine relationship. Anakin’s just Like That.     - (And super overprotective of people’s perceptions of Obi-Wan. Anakin will go off about Obi-Wan being mean and all that, but fuck you and your entire family tree if you ever even think Obi-Wan’s anything short as the most amazing Jedi to ever Jedi.)

Everybody and their mother can see the pedestal Anakin puts Padmé on, and surprisingly she rarely is on the end of his splitting. When he does, he just internalizes it bc he can’t stand the idea that he’s somehow seen her in a wrong light, or he feels guilty for getting angry with her.     - He also defines a huge chunk of his life around loving her, making her his center for a lot of his decisions and reactions, so when they’re off, his whole world seems backwards. It makes him Really uncomfortable and unsure. He gets panicky and upset and often people have no idea what the cause is so they just end up a lil panicky in return.     - He tends to take it out on others, by doing an exercise or by disappearing to fiddle with something.     - Pads has an easier time recognizing Anakin’s emotional needs, bc in some ways they’re the same as hers. She’s good at reaching out to him, comforting him and reassuring him of her love. And in turn, he like, never fucking shuts up about how much he loves her, and those moments are what make her feel so special around him. Being loved by Anakin makes someone feel important and even get tingly, bubbly happy feelings, because it’s hard to doubt it sometimes.     - There’s a part of her that sometimes worries about how Intense he is, but, like I said, when his positive intense emotions are focused on you, it feels wonderful. And he’s genuinely super sweet and gentle, and she appreciates that, when she tells him to back off about something, he’ll listen to her wishes. (I’m using movie Anakin as my base here bc TCW!Anakin in this regard is just…. bad y’all lmao)

Anakin’s anxious about Ahsoka All The Time. He’s afraid he’s a bad teacher, he’s afraid he’ll mess her up somehow, he’s afraid he’ll hurt her or she’ll get hurt, and that’s why he can’t stand the idea sometimes of her being on her own. It’s not a lack of trust in her abilities, but because he feels responsible for her, and that’s why he’s always ready to put himself between her and literally anything that could potentially hurt her. (Even if it’s not a physical threat.)     - There are times she finds this amusing and times this makes her angry, but mostly she is long suffering. There are times she appreciates it though, bc she’s still a kid and isn’t always sure which way is up, especially when in a war. Anakin is often a cornerstone for her, and though she’d literally NEVER admit it, his overprotectiveness can sometimes be a reassurance. She knows she can handle herself just fine, but when she has an inkling of doubt, she’ll remind herself that Anakin will be there, and then go and take care of the problem herself.     - She doesn’t always get his moments where he’s not always falling over himself to talk Obi-Wan up or go out of his way to sass at him. To her, they have a wonderful relationship and she rarely notices when Obi-Wan might say something that pokes at Anakin wrong, so she often just winds up ???? when Anakin is huffy or annoyed with her grandmaster.     - She sees Anakin’s anger issues a little more easily than others, and she worries about it but always brushes it off or downplays it, bc she always sees why he’s angry, and also always just assumes (like everyone else) that he can Handle It.     - Anakin’s recklessness and impulsivity are some of her favourite things about being his padawan. He’s literally never boring to be around, and Ahsoka needs that sort of excitement to sometimes push aside the knowledge that she’s literally in a warzone. Anakin’s also really good at doing this intentionally; he’s literally always worrying after her, and all he wants to do is take care of those he loves and make them happy, so sometimes he’ll be Extra just to get under her skin or distract her and honestly this is the basis of where their playful competitions always come from.

If Ahsoka is long suffering, Rex is doubly so. Sometimes it’s all he can do to keep up with Anakin and Ahsoka, but he appreciates Anakin “thinking outside the box”. He also appreciates knowing that Anakin is just as loyal to him and his men as he himself is (well… Anakin is until he isn’t lmao)     - Rex, like Pads, is really good at picking up Anakin’s moods and even trains of thought, so he’s always able to work around that, or even see where Anakin’s mind is going when coming up with a plan. They make a really good team bc while Anakin can jump from one idea to another without them seemingly correlated, Rex immediately follows Anakin’s leaps and they just end up in sync.     - That being said, Anakin can be really confusing at times. His moods are often so all over the place, that Rex generally has no idea what tf is going on. He deals with it by learning to be calm when Anakin’s unable to, and just ride out Anakin’s worst moods until they pass by, learning not to let it all phase him. Anakin lowkey hates it when he’s upset, but once the worst of it passes, he really appreciates that Rex will just… not press like Obi-Wan, or balances out the moments Anakin’s mind is so cluttered by instead just keeping a good focus on things.

Probably everyone’s most baffling symptom of Anakin’s is his paranoia. Obi-Wan kind of sees it the most, because Anakin is always testy with the Council and often feels put on the spot, dismissed and looked down upon. To everyone else, they don’t get where Anakin’s ideas come from, bc everything seems chill on their end. His fretting about others’ well-being is straightforward enough, but his instant panic-turned-anger shift when he receives any criticism (especially the perceived type) always gives people whiplash. It’s hard to keep up with, hard to see what it was that got to him so much, and hard to know how to help (particularly when they’re worried that trying to help him will feel like “taking sides”).     - Ahsoka takes Anakin’s POV of the Council pretty easily, at least when it comes to him. This is mostly bc she’s not there when there’s a meeting or tension around them, nor was she there when Anakin first arrived, so she just assumes they must genuinely often have issues with him too. She doesn’t see it to the extent Anakin does though, but she recognizes that sometimes he seems to blow things out of proportion when he’s upset, and figures it’ll just blow over once he’s calmed down.     - Pads, on the other hand, is always kind of aware of Anakin’s fears of losing her. He often not-so-subtly looks for reassurances that she loves him and won’t leave him, that she’s feeling alright or not angry/annoyed with him. She chalks it up to his trauma with his mother (and she’s partially right), so even when sometimes it gets on her nerves that he seems to doubt her so much, she tries to remind herself of that and let it go. 

Those closest to him can pick up that Anakin tends to see the negative in things, and is generally really hard on himself. They try to help out by giving praise where it’s due and just overall Being There, but it’s Rough to know they often don’t get through. (Palps, on the other hand, knows how to weaponize this.) 

The saddest part is that I don’t think anyone once thought Anakin was Seriously Ill, partly out of ignorance, partly bc they assumed it had to do with his age/upbringing, and partly bc, eventually, everyone was dealing with trauma and even if someone wanted to send Anakin back to the Temple to have a nap or something, they legit couldn’t bc there was a war going on and he also would never have tolerated it at that point in time.     - Obi-Wan’s the one who worries about all of this the most, because he’s always felt such a huge responsibility for Anakin and loves him a lot, he’s just never fully been able to understand how to get on the same wavelength as Anakin.     - Anakin, too, actually never fully figures out that there is something Going On. Everything’s always overwhelming him and even though he prefers doing things at 100mph, sometimes it seems like there is Too Much going on, and even during peace times it just felt like he couldn’t keep up with everything. He hates internal reflection but also can’t stop overthinking about everything, and so he just ruminates and goes in circles and often just ends up going nowhere when it comes to dealing with things. He tries his hardest all the time, he is ALWAYS trying, but doing stupid stunts, fighting droids, making robots and speeding everywhere all the time is truthfully only a bandaid.     - Being surrounded by those he adores and receiving affection from them/seeing them happy boosts his mood a lot but he doesn’t have enough self-awareness to guess at why his happier moods just won’t last.     - Sometimes he can figure out when he’s being irrational and then just takes it out on himself, which only exacerbates his bad episodes. 

Palpatine doesn’t help. He’s abusive, manipulates Anakin all the time and is the Worst and definitely makes everything Anakin is struggling with harder and I think we should all just punt him into a sun thank you this isn’t a headcanon I just want everyone to know how much I hate him

[citygirlinschool]

Breaking Bad

Read it on Ao3

Original bingo

~

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

“I have got two research papers pending, I am falling behind on my thesis and I have to submit Mr D’s essay on Monday. So yes, I am not coming.” Frank resisted the urge to physically pick up the boy from his bed and throw him out. 

He could if he wanted to. Leo was a tiny slip of a thing, all wild curls and ADHD. And gods did the boy tempt him to do some serious bodily harm to him.

“Come on man you haven’t come to a single party since well... ever. This one is supposed to be real rager.” 

With a jerked motion he stood up from his desk, threw his door open and marched towards the kitchen. 

“Is that supposed to be a No?” There was ruffling of sheets and Oh my Gods he was wearing shoes the whole time.

His eyes twitched and he slammed the glass on the counter with more force than necessary. A drink, that’s what he needs.

“Mixed signals buddy.” And there he was in all his flannel glory, and those hideous pun t-shirt (Never trust an atom, they make up everything). Never would he have guessed the devil would be a elf in science pun t-shirts. 

“No, Valdez. I am not coming to your rager party.” He made towards the refrigerator.

“Whatever man your loss.” 

There was an audible slam of the door as the fridge door fell of it’s hinges and over a startled Frank, followed by a crash of food spilling on to the floor.

“LEO!” 

~

“So, what was it this time?” 

“He broke the fridge.” Frank stabbed his food gloomily.

“And?” Percy waved a ketchup covered fry.

“He fixed the AC.” Frank mumbled.

“That’s good right?” 

“After he broke it.” He snorted.

Percy was in the year above him. Swim team captain and marine biology major. They met by accident and hit it off immediately.

They made it a point to meet in the dinner near the college campus once a week, or when they could.

“What else?” he drawled lazily, and Frank would feel guilty about turning all these meetings into venting sessions, except Percy wasn’t the type to entertain people just because it’s polite, so he probably didn’t mind.

“He brought someone back to the dorm. Again. Some blondie, Maria. This is the third this month. And it’s distracting, and I have told him clearly to bring someone when I am gone… How does he even land these many?” 

“He is kinda cute?” Percy shrugged.

Frank pulled a face. “He has a horrible track record. Can you believe he flirted with Ms Grace?” 

“To be fair he flirts with everybody. I don’t think it counts.” 

“Still. That’s the Thalia Grace.”

 “Touché. Talked to the Dean?” 

“Jason said, only Octavian is vacant. And that guy is… creepy.”

Percy nodded solemnly. “Heard he guts plush toys to some cult god he worships.” 

Frank looked at him wide eyes, and just like that Leo was forgotten. 

At least until he reached back to his dorm. 

“Frankie! You are back.” Leo flashed him his infuriating smirk that he knows gets on his every nerves. “Hazel was just leaving.” And that asshole turns to her, “Until you changed your mind and decided to stay.” 

He flirts with everybody; it doesn’t mean anything. Percy’s voice echoed warningly in his mind.

Hazel flushes, and looks down. Those flawless curls hiding reddened cheeks. “Thanks for the offer but I can’t stay past curfew.” 

“Aw.” Leo leans forward, “That’s not a no.” he wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be stickler for rules, get that enough from Frankie boo here.” 

This time Frank’s cheeks heat up. “Leo.” He hopes he would stop.

“Fine, Fine. Goodnight, Hazel.”

“Bye, Leo.” She presses her books to her chest, and Frank shuffles hurriedly to the side as Hazel moves past him.

He slams the door once Hazel is past. 

“So,” Leo straightens from where he was leaning against the wall. “Somebody has got a crush.”

“Don’t.”

“Cant blame you, she is a real looker.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t play.” He stalks back towards his room, his back toward the Latino. “You already knew that.” 

“I did?” there it is again, the annoying mocking tone he didn’t bother dignifying with a reply. But that didn’t deter Leo from barging in his room behind him either.

“I mean, were all those lectures ignored in the favour of staring at the back of her head, and doodling H+F in the back of your notebook, did give me an inclination but thought they stood for Himbo plus- “ 

“Shut up, asshole.” He whirled around. “You know I freaking liked her.” He stalked towards him. 

“Oh yeah like how you knew my Chatelier’s experiment made twelve percent of my grade?” 

“I apologized for it.” He spit back in his face, grabbing his forearms. 

“That doesn’t make up for it, jerk.” He hissed back.

Blood roared in his veins, drowning out any further jabbing remarks from the squirming boy in his arms.

Gods the things he would do to shut him up. 

“-and would you please let me go, I am pretty sure this counts as phys- Mmph! ” 

He kissed him. That annoying fucking mouth, with those pretty fucking lips. He bit on his lips tugging at them, pressing that tiny body against his.

He kissed him. Fuck.

Frank stumbled back in horror. “Shit I am sorry, I didn’t- “ 

“Oh no.” Leo lunged at him, and he stumbled back in surprise, catching his hips. “You would be sorry when I am done with you.” 

Harsh demanding lips pressed against him, a sharp nip and the metallic tang of blood spilled on his tongue, making him curse.

The heels of Leo’s feet dug in his back, “Bed, bed, bed!” He panted, slim but strong fingers tugging at his hair painfully, tilting it back. He grabbed his lips in another kiss that had his dick aching in his pants.

Frank stumbled blindly towards his twin bed, his hands groping the Latino’s ass, as they both fell on the congested bed in tangle of limbs.

Leo’s hand left his hair and trailed over his collar, clever fingers making a quick job of his shirt, hips shamelessly grinding in his abdomen. 

“Come on, man, get naked.” He ran his fingers over his chest, tweaking his nipples.

“Leo.” He pulled back, “Aren’t we going a bit fast.” 

Leo’s lips pulled back in a condescending sneer, “You sure you wanna be a cock blocker.”

His hand snaked down to the bulge in his pants, and he involuntarily humped forward into the pressure.   “I already hate you enough.”

That was a reminder enough. The clothes were gotten rid of in a flurry of uncoordinated limbs, and broken buttons, until a very naked Frank, had a very naked Leo in his lap. 

He dug his teeth into the hollow of his collar bones, and Leo hissed, but didn’t stop the wild rhythm of his hips. Frank’s hand squeezed the ample flesh in his hands and parting them. 

The head of his cock slipped between them, sliding over the fuzzy hole.

Leo’s hips stuttered, and he exhaled shakily, fingers digging in his shoulders hard enough that Frank knew they would leave welts.

“Lube? Tell me you have lube” his voice was so deep; it had his cock twitching.

“Top drawer, in the back.” He mumbled, leaning back until he was laying down as Leo stretched over him, searching his drawer.

He couldn’t help but mouth over his well formed abdomen, for his deceptively short stature he was strong. Lithe muscles and surprisingly broad shoulders. 

Fuck he hated him so much.

There was a click of lube opening, as Leo pulled back, his fingers dripping with lube.

He leaned forward, one hand beside his head while he reached behind him.

Frank knew the exact moment Leo’s fingers breached him. His eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched and his breathing became a tad bit heavier. 

He reached up, pressing a sweet almost a innocent kiss against his lips, and for a moment Leo let him. 

“Let me do it.”

And just like that Leo pulled away. 

His weeping cock bobbed proudly between his supple thighs, his dusky nipple looked raw and abused, there was a myriad of hickies littering his chest and his hair was wilder than usual. 

Yet, that jerk had the audacity to smirk mockingly at him.

“Not your girlfriend, Zhang. So don’t treat me like it.” he must have done something inside him cause his eyes fluttered for a moment. “Besides- Ah” his back arched, “we are doing this by-mmh- my rules, cause clearly you are as clueless in this-Ah!”

“What is your problem.” Frank had jostled his fingers out of him as he flipped them over. “I am just trying to be nice.” He snarled.

“No what you’re trying to do.” A lube covered finger smeared across his neck, “is fucking coddle me.” He spat.

“I am not coddling you.” He glared indignantly at the infuriating boy underneath him.

“Oh yeah? What is this? Fucking me? Please, you are not even in me.” He sneered mockingly.

“I am- I don’t –” Leo mercifully cut his spluttering off with a kiss.

“God I didn’t know I had to just spread my legs to get underneath your skin.”

He would have tried replying, except Leo had wrapped his lubed up hand around his dick, slicking it up with quick efficient strokes, and Frank had been so painfully hard all this time all he could do was helplessly jerk forward into the warm wet hole, until Leo tightened his grip. “Don’t come.” He warned, as he guided him to his stretched hole.

Frank to his dying day would deny the sound he emitted when his head slipped in.

A loud unashamed sound, as his head dropped onto Leo’s shoulder, as he panted harshly. Leo was tighter and hotter then anything he had ever felt before. And so deliciously soft.

He wouldn’t have been able to stop the unrelenting rolls of his hips as he pushed deeper if he wanted to.

Like he had no control over his hips, he pushed in inch after inch, as Leo’s back arched off the bed until Frank bottomed out.

For a moment Frank could just lay still and shiver so as to not bust a nut, Leo as so tight around him, it was probably painful for him.

“Move, move, move, jackass.” Or maybe not.

“Oh, gods fuck me, or I am gonna fuck up your laptop and not repair- Oh yesss!” Leo’s eyes rolled back in his head, as Frank pulled out almost all the way and then pushing in rapidly. 

“Why can’t you shut up for a moment.” Frank picked up his pace. “For once –mmh” his nipped at his ear, “just shut up- ah fuck- and moan.” 

“Maybe- mmph- Maybe if you put all that beef - oh Dios- and man boobs (he gripped said boobs) to use than I will.” 

Frank dug his teeth right below his ears, just shy of tearing skin, but definitely marring the skin, as he readjusted his grip, hooking his hands underneath his knees and practically folding the twink (because that’s what Leo fucking Valdez is and Frank is tired of lying) in half. 

He must have hit his prostrate with the deeper angle cause Leo made a he- would- never- admit- it- but- adorable high-pitched sound, his hands flying between his legs, except Frank slapped it away and wrapped his own hand around his flushed, almost painfully purple cock.

Much to his pleasure Leo hooked his own hand underneath his knees, holding himself open.

“Didn’t know” he panted, “all it took was a good dicking down to shut you up.” 

Leo’s eyes opened up to slits, in what he thinks is a glare, but it is hard to take him seriously on good days, even harder with his cock stupid bambi eyes, and drool covered chin.

Fuck! This is the hottest thing ever and Frank hates him so much.

Frank lost his carefully maintained rhythm, finally rutting in abandon. The bed creaked threateningly, the headboard banging fiercely with the force of his thrusts.

Paired with the slick sound of where Frank was jerking Leo off, slap of skin against skin and squelch of Frank fucking Leo, it sounded like a cheap porno.

Harsh breathing was littered with moans and litany of curses. There tongues ran sloppily against each other, Leo tweaked his nipples, clenching down on Frank as they both hurtled toward the peak like freight train.

The orgasm was a bang.

Literally. 

In hindsight, two fully grown men fucking on a barely hanging on twin bed was not the wisest plan. But what can he say? Leo brings out the worst in him.

“Did it?” Frank muttered tiredly. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“Get off.” Leo’s voice was slurred and strained, “You are suffocating me. And you are sleeping on the couch.” 

~

“What was it this time?” 

“The bed.” 

“Leo broke your bed?” 

“Something like that.” Frank mumbled.

[panda-noosh]

fire and ice {Draco Malfoy x Reader}{pjo x hp crossover}

Words: 21k {:))))}

Summary: Wizards and demigods don’t get along. So what happens when the Malfoys are forced to stay at Camp Half-Blood?

Genre: angst - pjo crossover!!!

Notes: ask me about commissions! - masterlist - AM I SORRY? ABSOLUTELY NOT. this has been brewing in my brain for literal ages and i’ve finally snapped and just done it. might do more. who knows? certainly not me. 

----

Lucius Malfoy hates demigods.

   Everyone knows it. He doesn't make it a secret. He doesn't listen to the people who tell him – time and time again – that demigods and wizards aren't even meant to mingle, that him bringing their name into every press conference, every public appearance, every meeting, is doing nothing but spurring a fire that should never have been lit in the first place.

   He's at it again, though, because of course he is. That man never knows when to leave well enough alone, especially concerning business that has nothing to do with him.

    Today, his words are just as harsh as they were yesterday. The newspaper quotes him saying demigods are nothing but scum, mistakes upon the world. He has claimed plenty of times that not a single demigod was a planned child, that no god in their right mind would ever conceive with a Muggle.

   “What the fuck is a Muggle?” Percy asks.

  You shake your head, eyes narrowed at the black and white words. They jumble together, as they always have done, but you're still capable of making out the bare bones.

  Lucius Malfoy really, really hates demigods.

  “This guy is on drugs,” Percy continues. “Who's gonna be the one to tell him we're all literally just vibing over here in camp?”

  “I think it all comes down to jealousy,” says Annabeth.

   “Jealous about what? He's a fully grown wizard – he could wipe us out with one flick of his wrist if he wanted to.”

  “You underestimate us.”

  Percy scoffs. “I saw Will nearly fall into the fire the other day; there's absolutely nothing here Lucius Malfoy needs to be afraid of.”

  And you see his point. Of course you do. Being a demigod yourself, you have the utmost confidence in the fact that Lucius Malfoy could, indeed, probably wipe you out with nothing more than a brief thought. Gods only know he's wanted to for as long as you've heard his name.

  Nonetheless, this acceptance doesn't stop you from thinking about what it would be like to really stumble across the man who seems to be all talk and no action. Never once have you heard a story of wizards attacking demigods, nor vise versa. The two clans stay far apart from one another for reasons that have been made abundantly clear in the newspapers; they will just never get along. Two clashes of power like that will leave the world rumbled, and many people hurt, and it's better off to avoid that when you can.

  “We should track this Malfoy bloke down.”

   The words have fallen from your mouth before you've even fully registered they are what you wanted to say. Both Percy and Annabeth pause mid-argument, Annabeth nearly snapping her spine with how fast she twists in her seat to look at you. You flick your eyes up from your plate of roast beef and give a tiny, timid smile, as if shy that you even made such a suggestion.

  “You're joking,” says Percy, before turning to Annabeth. “They're joking, right?”

  “They're definitely joking.”

   “I'm not.”

   “Well, you need to start joking before I bring Will over here to make sure you're not running a fever or something-”

   “I'm serious!” You gesture towards the fire, where the newspaper can still be seen curling amongst the flames. “Have you guys not been reading the amount of threats he sends us every time he gets a chance? What if he's serious?”   “I doubt he's being serious,” Annabeth says, though there's a wobble in her voice that tells you she perhaps doesn't fully believe her own assurances. “Isn't it a crime in the wizard world to – like – murder innocent things?”

  “I'm pretty sure there was an entire space of time over there where people were just murdering each other,” Percy responds.

  Annabeth pales.

  “See what I mean?” you continue. “Besides, it's getting boring here.”

   Percy blinks. “Boring?”

   “I'm bored. I just want something to do, for Gods sake. Chiron's keeping such a tight leash on us-”

   Percy throws his hands up. “Oh! I wonder why!”

   “You two even said a few days ago that you miss being out and about, doing stuff, saving lives-”

   “I never said that,” Percy argues. “In my opinion, I've had enough saving lives to last me a lifetime.”

  “Weak.”

   “Coming from-”

  “Okay!” Annabeth snaps. “Enough. This conversation is officially over.”

  You pout, folding your arms over your chest like a child having a tantrum. Percy laughs at your expression, giving your nose a playful tap that does nothing but infuriate you further. It's been like this for weeks now – short tempers, boredom, an unease that can only be put to rest when you're out and about, doing what you do best.

   Maybe it's the ADHD. Maybe it's the godly blood running through your veins. Maybe you're just too curious for your own good, but you want to find Lucius Malfoy and just talk to him. You want to see if he's as tough in person as he makes himself out to be on paper. You know you're not much to look at, nothing more than a teenager with interesting parentage, but maybe that will be enough to get your questions answered – why do wizards hate demigods so much?

  Annabeth cuts the conversation short any time you try bringing it to life again. She's a master at changing the subject, sometimes deciding to just talk over you about a completely different topic. Eventually, Percy's laughter and Annabeth's avoidance is enough to make you shut up, and soon you're just sitting there, listening to Annabeth talk about the recent Athena cabin shenanigans she bore witness to a few nights previous.

  Dinner finishes, and the tables split back into their cabins. Annabeth gets lost amongst her sea of siblings, giving you and Percy a wave before she disappears for the night. You and Percy walk in silence for a little while, before you split off to your own respected cabins.

  Alone.

  Sleeping on your own has never bothered you before. It's all you've ever known. You were born an only child, your mother having lost her mind shortly after giving birth to you, your father never being around due to the complicated fact he was a god.

  Is a god.

  Sometimes it shakes you to think your own father will undoubtedly outlive you. Hades is sat on his throne somewhere, watching you do all these things in his honour, knowing full well he will one day have to watch you die. He might be by your bedside as your heart beat gradually comes to a halt in your sleep.

  More likely, he will be sat amongst his godly brothers and sisters, watching you fight on the battle field, catching the very moment a sword pierces your chest and you bleed out with no one to help you, no one by your side, no one caring.

  You shake the thought from your head as you reach your cabin, a large, black painted building with a skull and crossbones over the door. It's a lonely place, but demigods are lonely kids, so it kind of fits, and you've never seen any problem with facing the truth.

  As soon as the door closes behind you, you grab your notebook and pen from beneath your pillow. It's been a long time since you wrote anything, considering you've been too tired to even properly function these days, but tonight, your thoughts are heavy, and you need to find some way to let them loose. You sit cross-legged on the uncomfortable camp bed Chiron provided you with all those years ago, and start scribbling.

  Just random sentences, things that probably won't even make sense when you wake up tomorrow morning, words that don't even go together, but are just popping in your mind every few seconds. You've always called it poetry, but it's on thin ice. You let nobody read it, considering you know how bad it is, how weird it is. You can honestly imagine someone reading it and immediately expressing concerns for your mental stability.

  But it distinguishes that weight in your brain. It makes you see sense for a bit, pouring these words onto paper before closing the notebook and stuffing it beneath your pillow. You won't have to read them again if you don't want to, and that's the best part; it offers a moment of bliss, but there are no strings attached. All is well. All can be ignored if you want it to be.

  ----

  It takes weeks for the subject of Lucius Malfoy to arise at the dinner table again.

   Annabeth has been fighting it off. The demigod has known you for far too long; at this point, all she needs to do is take a glimpse of your face, and immediately she knows exactly what is going through your brain. It's like a sixth sense to her, and it gives her the perfect opportunity to change the subject before you can so much as utter the word Wizard.

   Percy notices the tension, and finally snaps.

  “Are you still thinking about what Lucius Malfoy said?”

   Annabeth groans, slapping Percy on the arm. “I told you not to bring it up!”    But your attention has already been grabbed. You straighten up in your seat, grinning from ear to ear as you say, “So can we go?”

   “Give me a break,” Annabeth grumbles, dropping her head into her hand. “We're not going to visit Lucius Malfoy. We don't know the guy.”

  “He doesn't know us.”

   “Good.”

  You lean across the table to flick Annabeth's forehead. “But he still insists on talking about us to whatever freaky wizard press he has special ties to; I just want to see him, Annabeth! I just want to – like – mess with him a little bit!”

  Percy laughs, nudging Annabeth's elbow. When he speaks, it's through a mouthful of noodles. “I actually think our Y/N is on to something.”

   “Thank you, Percy.”

  Annabeth's head shoots up, a pale spot in the centre of her forehead where you flicked her. “No! No, this isn't even up for debate. Chiron will kill us if he knows we're even talking about it.”

   “No he won't,” you reply. “Chiron trusts us. He's seen us do all sorts, and it's not like I'm asking you guys to go and risk your lives for me. We'll go and talk to him, get his side of the story, and then we'll-”

  “It's honestly like you think I'm stupid.”

  You freeze, fork hovering halfway to your mouth. “Come again?”

   Percy laughs, failing to stifle it behind his hand. “You've only gone and woken the beast, Y/N.”

  “Shut up.”

  Annabeth sighs, running a hand over her ponytail. “I've known you since we were seven years old, Y/N – I know what you're up to. You'll never just talk to Lucius Malfoy. You'll get there, and you'll have to taunt him, and jeer at him, and put a stink bomb in his bathroom-”

   “That's the oldest trick in the book – I'm better than that.”

  “But you know what I mean!” Annabeth shakes her head. “You'll get carried away, and we know what happens when you get carried away.”

  Your stomach dips. Even Percy's bright smile falls, replaced with a grimace the two of you share. It's a low blow, and Annabeth knows that, but she also knows better than to make it out like you and Percy aren't two of the most unpredictable demigods to walk on Camp Half-Blood soil.

  When Annabeth next speaks, her voice is softer. “It's just too risky.”

  “Since when did you start being scared of a little confrontation?”

  Percy's voice startles you from your momentary reverie. Both you and Annabeth snap to attention, turning to look at your friend with raised brows; suddenly, he doesn't look like the happy-go-lucky, always bantering kid he usually is. His expression has darkened, jaw set and eyebrows lowered so his blue eyes look darker than normal. He can't even bring himself to look you both in the eye, instead choosing to keep a firm glare on the noodles and rice in front of him.

  “What do you mean?” Annabeth asks. “I'm not afraid of confrontation. My scars can vouch for that.”

   “Right, so why is Y/N's suggestion so scary to you?”

   You blink; this was certainly not the direction you were expecting the conversation to go. Annabeth and Percy bicker like cat and dog, but there's never been any malice in it. Now, listening to Percy, you can hear the genuine hurt in his voice, and you know her previous comments about getting carried away have actually struck a chord in him.

  Annabeth stares with her mouth agape, clearly unsure how to respond. She must sense the tension, too, must realise she has said the wrong thing.

   Still without looking up, Percy says, “I agree with Y/N; we need out of this camp for a little while. We need to do something. So why not have a little road trip to visit the man himself, huh? Why not get our questions answered?”

  “Percy....” Annabeth flicks a desperate glance in your direction, but you're not inclined to intervene when Percy is like this. As someone who has experienced the difficulty of controlling powers that you have been forced to ignore for a grand number of years, the last thing you want to do is provoke Percy any further than Annabeth has already managed to do.

   “I'm bored, too,” he continues. “And, to be honest, I'm getting pretty tired of them wizards thinking they can say whatever they want about us. It's about time we let them know they're not better than anyone just 'cause they wear them stupid robes and have a council.”

  “So what are you saying?” you pipe up, excitedly. “You'll go with me?”

   Percy shrugs. “I don't see why not. It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?”

   You cheer, throwing your hands in the air before catching a glimpse of Annabeth's angered expression. Your cheer immediately drifts away, and you let your hands fall to your sides before mumbling, “You sure? 'Cause, I mean, we don't have to.”

  “No, we're going,” says Percy, staring right at Annabeth. He has a death wish. That is the only explanation you can come up with right now. “It'll be fun, as you said.”

  Annabeth's nostrils flare. She says nothing else, simply sends one final glare to Percy – as if you're not even present – and stands up, marching away before dinner has finished.

   Percy huffs, slumping back in his chair. “Where does she get off telling us we get carried away?”

  “I mean, she isn't wrong, Percy.”

  Percy scowls. “I don't think that's very fair.”

  “You're in denial.” You plunge your fork into his noodles, using his distraction to steal some food for yourself. “But we're going to visit Lucius Malfoy! That'll be fun!”

   “I only said that to make Annabeth angry.”

  “I know, but a promise is a promise. We're going, and we're gonna have a fantastic time.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  Not even two seconds later, Percy squeals and jumps from his seat. “Hey! Don't do that!”

  You grin, willing the skeletons hand to let go of Percy's ankle and sink back into the dirt.

  -----

  You and Percy remember this so well.

  It's muscle memory at this point, standing in the Hades cabin in the dark of night, Percy having tip-toed over to your domain to indulge in some illegal shenanigans. When you were younger, this used to be a nightly occurrence, which is one of the main reasons you both share such dramatic memories; neither of you are capable of staying out of trouble for very long, and maybe this is the very reason why.

  It's so easy for you to go wherever you want. You could shadow travel out of Camp Half Blood without a second thought, exhaustion be damned, but you never do. You respect Chiron too much to go out of your way to disobey him, but tonight is an exception. Percy stands by your side, hands tucked into an oversized hoodie. He's pulled the hood on over his dark hair, shoving the tangled strands into his eyes, though he does little to fix this. Instead, he keeps his blue gaze on you and says, “How long do you think we'll be?”

   “Not long,” you reply. “A few hours. Maybe a little longer if you fancy a stroll around London before we head back.”

  Percy scowls, glancing over his shoulder at the window. Nobody is awake. Camp Half Blood has never been so quiet.

  “Stop worrying.” You grab the sleeve of his hoodie, ushering his attention back to you. “I know what I'm doing, Perce – you've been with me a thousand times before. You know I can do it.”

  “Last time you shadow travelled this far, you nearly died.”

  “I was younger then. I've had more practise.”

  “Enough to travel to London?”

  You grab his hand, the motion so familiar now it's almost second nature. “Let's find out, shall we?”

   You don't give life the chance to throw another distraction your way; you inhale in that way you always do before a lengthy jump, and then you let your mind empty of all rational thought. Your mind does not go blank, nor does it settle; for a brief spell, you feel insane. You feel utterly and completely unhinged as the dead cackle in your head, thrashing through your brain like dogs trying to leap a wire fence. Your thoughts are no longer your own, replaced instead by the thoughts of people who are angry at death, angry at their own fate, people who blame your father and all of his offspring for the way their lives turned out.

  It hurts. You're forced to watch their faces as they twist into expressions of pure agony, begging for a help you cannot give them, because they are hundreds of years too late.

  It stops once your feet hit the ground.

  You try to steady yourself just to give off the illusion that you're perfectly fine, but your legs give out and you fall to your knees. Percy grabs your arm, but your body is limp as it slowly restores from the hectic ride that is shadow travel.

  “Never gets any better,” Percy grumbles; even he is a little uneasy on his feet, swaying to and fro. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” you belch. “Are we in London?”

  Percy looks up. You follow his gaze, warmth immediately flooding your stomach at the sight of a job well done, because the two of you are amongst the unmistakeable sights of London.

  It's a bit disappointing, you won't lie. Pictures in newspapers always perceive England to be this sophisticated, well-lit place, bustling with people dressed in suits and expensive clothes. Instead, you're greeted by a dark city street, broken street lights flickering overhead, people bustling by with their heads down, wearing track suits.

  In the distance, someone yells, “Come on, mate!” and it echoes off the cobbled stone walls.

  You and Percy share a glance.

  “Maybe we just expected too much,” he says.

  “Probably.”

  He hauls you to your feet, keeping a hand on your arm just in case you end up toppling over again. Through the darkness, you are just able to make out the peak of a large house in the distance. It's straight from a horror movie in your opinion, made up of dark cobbles, a golden fence adorned with spikes to keep the Muggles from entering; the word itself is nearly enough to make you laugh, though the sight of the house keeps you quiet.

  You and Percy approach the gates timidly, his hand still on your arm. “Is this the Malfoy house?”

  “I think so,” you whisper. “It looks like the pictures we always see. It's what I was aiming for, anyway.”

   “Good job, soldier.”

  “Thanks, boss.” You pause, craning your neck to get a better look at the house. “How do we actually get through the gate?”

  There are lights on in at least four of the rooms, a shadow passing by a curtain that looks tall and slim, gliding more than walking. You grab Percy's arm and point, whispering urgently, “That must be him! Lucius!”

   Percy ducks his head down and laughs. “Okay, okay. Let's just climb the fucking gate and get everything set up.” He glances at you. “You're sure you're up for this?”

  “I've never been more prepared for anything in my life.”

  Together, the two of you scale the metal gate, using the upper body strength you have gathered from years of training at Camp Half Blood. You're over and in this strangers garden in a number of seconds, sprinting through the grand garden before suspicions can be roused. Around you, white peacocks look up from their grazing, though none of them make a sound to give away the presence of two strangers.

  You reach the fountain and duck beneath it; this is where Percy needs to be if he wants to succeed in his part of the plan. He crouches beside you and hovers his hands over the water, not even giving you a warning before he uses his powers to pull the water from the concrete fountain. It sprays across the garden, and that's when the peacocks start to scream.

  Water splashes against their feathers, startling them. You can barely hide your laughter at the sight of them springing up from whatever peaceful graze they were involved in beforehand, now darting around the garden like someone has plucked a feather from their flesh.

  Percy shoves your arm. “Stop laughing and get on with it before they come out!”

   You push past the distractions and focus your energy on your own powers. Your exhaustion makes it all a little bit more difficult, but the image of the final product is enough to have you pushing the exhaustion aside just to reap the benefits of this. Inside yourself, something pulls, and it's familiar, uncomfortable, but it has the effect you want. Almost immediately, a skeletal hand darts from the ground. Just one for now, but you wait patiently before making the next one erupt.

  The front door of the Malfoy house bursts open, and standing there is no other than-

  “That's not Lucius,” Percy says.

  “It definitely is not.”

   The person standing in the doorway cannot be much older than you, with snow white hair and a sharp face. His eyes, blue and cold, are wide as they take in the sight before him, his wand clutched in a trembling hand.

  “You said you saw Lucius in the window!” Percy hisses, struggling to reel the spray of water back into himself.

  “I thought it was!”

  “For Gods sake.” Percy grabs your arm and drags you up, no longer caring about being seen. However, you stumble as he runs, dragging you along behind him, because the sight of the boy is distracting; he looks terrified, like he was expecting something completely different, like he thought someone was finally coming to take him away.

  You recognise the expression only because you've worn it yourself so many times; growing up as the child of Hades leaves a lot of scars and a lot of fear on a person, considering your father certainly isn't the most liked individual upon the Olympians.

  As Percy attempts to drag you back to the gate, you glance over your shoulder. The boys blue eyes glare into your own. He has seen you.

  And nothing can really prepare you for what happens next. You don't know enough about the wizarding world to expect this, but the feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. Someone yells in your direction, and then something is crashing into your spine, slithering along your neck, giving you not a single chance to react before the world goes still and you drop to the floor, no longer processing a single thing happening around you.

  ----

  “Would you just wake up?”

  The voice is posh and annoying. It makes you want to laugh.

  The pain in your spine stops you from doing such a thing, however. Instead, you slowly rouse from sleep, met by the blinding lights of a room unfamiliar. You lay on a bed fit for a king, soft pillows engulfing your sore head, thick mattress swaddling your body like a newborn baby.

  And standing above you is a boy you remember seeing only vaguely; pale skin, snow white hair, a grimace that shows he perhaps isn't too happy about having you in his home.

  You stare at him a moment, willing him to make the first move. Maybe if he starts the conversation, you won't have to go into too much detail about why you're actually here, because despite the glitches in your memory, that is something you remember very, very well.

  Running across his lawn, thinking you were clever because you and Percy were finally going to give Lucius Malfoy a piece of his own medicine.

  And now Percy is gone, and you're trapped in a strangers house.

  The boy stood above you, however, says nothing. He looks almost nervous, eyes flashing between you and the door, like he's planning the easiest way to flee if things reach that point.

  Finally, you snap. “Hello.”

  He jerks away, nearly stumbling over a stool by the bedside as he does. “Oh,Christ. Hello.”

  “I didn't mean to scare you.”

  “You didn't – I'm not scared. I just thought you were still Stunned.”

  You blink. “Stunned?”

  “I Stunned you.” He pauses, biting his lower lip. “It was the only way I could think to get you to stop running.”

  “Is that some kind of spell?”

   The boy waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, you were in my garden earlier. If my father had been the one to see you, he wouldn't have hesitated to curse you and call it self defence.”

  His father.

  Something rushes through your stomach, an excitement that doesn't really make sense. All has failed. You're going to go back to Camp Half Blood and be chastised, probably brutally punished, for the choices you made tonight, and yet here you are, overjoyed at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy, because that's the only person this boy must be talking about.

  “You look a lot like him,” you say.

  The boy narrows his eyes. “My father?”

  “Lucius,” you clarify. “He lives here, doesn't he? He's the one Percy and I came to see.”

  The boy slowly leans back in his chair; it's quite cute, actually, that he dragged a chair into this room just so he could sit over your Stunned body. Maybe he was making sure you didn't die. Maybe he just didn't trust leaving you on your own.

  “What business could you possibly want with my father?” he asks. “You must be my age. What year are you in at Hogwarts? What House?”

 You smile. “I don't go to Hogwarts.”

  He reels back. “Really? Are you from a foreign school? Beuxbatons?”

  “I don't go to your fancy magic schools. I'm not a wizard.”

  The boy blinks. It never ceases to baffle you the pure ignorance of these people – how they can grow up in a world completely detached from everything and everyone, and yet are still unable to fathom the idea of anybody being different.

  “If you're not a wizard, how did you make the water fountain do that?”

   “I didn't. Percy did that.”

  “Who is this Percy bloke you keep going on about?”

   “He's my friend, the one you apparently let get away.”

  The boy raises a brow, glancing over at the window as if expecting to see Percy just standing there; honestly, you wouldn't even be surprised.

  He turns back and says, “So your friend is a wizard? Are you a Muggle?”

   He's taking an awfully long time to catch on.

  “No,” you reply, exasperated. “Neither of us are wizards. We're from New York – a little place called Camp Half Blood.”

   And for a second, the revelation doesn't land. The boy continues staring at you like you have three heads, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. But then the ball drops, and he jerks back, the chair dragging in the carpet with the speed at which he jumps to his feet. He looks almost horrified.

  “Alright,” you mumble. “I'm not going to bring Zeus down here personally. He's a bit busy-”

  “How did you even get here?” he hisses. “Are you an assassin? Is that why you were looking for my father – so you could kill him?”

  “Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm a demigod, not a murderer.”

  The boy looks at you like he doesn't think there's much difference between the two.

  This angers you. Something in your stomach burns, and suddenly, the only thing you want to do is to get away from him. You want to go back home. You want to find Annabeth and hug her, tell her she was right, just as she always is. You don't like being in the company of wizards. You don't like being away from the people who understand you best.

  “Look, this was fun,” you say, pushing yourself up from the bed. “But I need to get going. I'm sorry about your fountain-”

  “Where are you going?” he demands.

  You pause, raising a brow.  “Why do you care?”

  “Because – Because what if you come back to finish my father off? I can't just let you go!”

  He must be completely oblivious. You have fought monsters taken directly out of storybooks, have argued and debated with Gods about things such as ice cream flavours and which way is the right direction to go on a road trip – the last person you have any interest in fighting with is some posh, uptight wizard.

  “Look,” you say, “all I wanted to do was mess with the guy. He's been saying some pretty harsh things about demigods lately, and Percy and I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. I don't want to murder your father.”

  The boy stares at you. He's powerful, too. You know he is. You can see his wand sticking out of a deep pocket in his emerald green robes. One flick of that and you're a goner, and yet he chooses to just stand over you, eyes burning holes into your head.

  “What's your name, anyway?” you ask.

  He tenses. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

   “Sounds evil.”

  “It's a strong name.”

  “Right.” You flick your eyes to the clock hung upon the wall. “Can I go now?”

  He sighs and backs away from the bed. “My father would kill me if he found out I was letting you go.”

  You stand up, knees trembling from the aftershocks of having a wizards spell slam directly into your spine, but you manage to catch yourself before crumbling completely; Draco does nothing to help stabilise you, instead watching you with a thoughtful gaze, like he's preparing to attack at any moment.

  And it's weird. You know it's weird. You should not just be able to walk out of his house without a single consequence to your name. He should be holding you hostage, keeping you pinned to this bed until his grand old father gets home, and he can tell you off for trespassing, scaring the life out of his precious white peacocks.

  But Draco doesn't say another word as you slip out the door and barrel downstairs, suddenly desperate to be away from a world like this. It's weird. It's unnatural. They care about blood status, and they learn spells, and it's all just a little bit too weird for your taste.

  Even weirder is the fact that Draco is letting you go so easily.

  ---

  You arrive back at Camp Half Blood when it's light outside, and you know you've been caught.

  Wherever Percy may be, you do not envy the treatment he must be getting. You clamber up to the pine tree and look down at the camp you call home, not surprised to see people bustling back and forth already, Chiron included. He looks miffed, digging his front hoof into the dirt like a rabid animal ready to charge.

  That's kind of what he is.

  You hollow out your cheeks and stroll directly into camp, ignoring the startled gasps of the Half-Bloods. You'll deal with Chiron before you deal with them – that seems like the best way forward.

  Chiron spots you seconds before you reach him. He turns, dust billowing up around him before he says, “And where do you think you've been?”

  Chiron has always been a father-figure to you, Hades be damned. He saw you as a junior demigod, just growing into who you are, unable to fully process the fact that the man you always hated, the man you once believed to be a no good excuse of a father, was actually a Greek God who has spent his time watching you grow – just from the sky instead of on the ground.

  He treats you and Percy differently than everybody else. You're both feared for no reason. People shy away from you like you've been on some blood-lust streak your entire life, even though that's far from the case. When you can, you avoid using your powers, purely because you know how much people dislike them. They see them as unnatural. They think it's weird, despite them having abilities, too.

  “Hello, Chiron,” you mumble. “I'm very tired, so if you could just-”

  “We've had word from the Ministry of Magic.”

   You freeze, stomach dropping, certain you heard him wrong. The only wizard you actually made contact with was Draco, and surely he didn't go to the Ministry after letting you run free just like that?

  Chiron shakes his head. His disappointed look is more than you can bare. “What were you two thinking, Y/N? What did you think would happen?”

  “I – I – I don't know.” You look around desperately. “Is Percy here? Did he make it back safely?”

   “Percy's resting. He wanted to go after you, but Grover wouldn't let him, and thankfully so-”

  “I was fine. The boy I met – Draco -”

  “Draco Malfoy?”

  You falter. “Well, yeah. He spotted us and ended up Stunning me-”

 “Oh my gods.” Chiron runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the sky, saying whatever prayers he thinks will help right now, like the Gods have ever listened to any of you before. “You do realise that's Lucius Malfoy's son, don't you? The son of the man who wants our kind terminated.”

  “Draco wasn't like that,” you reply, even though you don't know why. “He let me go. He didn't even hurt me-”

  “You've just said he Stunned you!”

  “For, like, an hour! I was fine when I woke up! And look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you could.”

    Chiron groans, turning back to the Big House. He starts walking without another word, forcing you to sprint after him.

  “Don't be mad,” you say. “It was stupid. I'm sorry. Chiron, I'm sorry. We just got bored-”

  “If children put their family's in danger every time they were bored, Y/N, the human race wouldn't exist.”

  He really is angry, angrier than you've ever seen him. It takes you back to your childhood when he used to tell you off for staying up too late, or getting out of bed in the middle of the night.

  You stumble after him, thankful that he isn't telling you to go away and leave him alone; that's one thing Chiron has always promised he will never do to you or Percy – he'll never just leave you alone.

  You walk into the Big House, side-by-side, and it's a mildly unpleasant surprise for you to see Annabeth already sat by Chiron's desk, her head in her hands, blonde curls framing her face. As soon as the door shuts behind you, she jerks up, whirls around and throws a pen in your direction.

  You catch it. “I am safe, thank you for asking.”

  “You're so stupid!” She groans, picks up another pen and throws it. Chiron is the one to interject this time, snatching the pen from thin air and tucking it into the little pouch hooked to his side.

  “Enough, Annabeth. We haven't got time to chastise them.”

  “I beg to differ,” Annabeth growls, not once taking her eyes off you.

  The guilt claws to the surface; she only wanted to protect you, only wanted to give you some decent advice, and neither you nor Percy had listened, both too absorbed in your own boredom to use the common sense Annabeth seems so prone to.

  Chiron, however, does not give you a chance to ponder over this gruesome feeling. Instead, he pulls a seat out and gestures for you to sit down, which you do without question; at this point, you know you'd be stupid to disobey him, would only be digging yourself into a deeper hole, one you're not too sure you'll be able to crawl out of.

  He takes a seat in front of you as Annabeth hovers by your shoulder, arms folded over her chest, eyes trained dead ahead. You awkwardly shift in your seat, waiting for the scolding to begin.

  But instead, Chiron grabs a golden button from a drawer in his desk and presses it without saying anything at all. The room immediately brightens up in all different colours – red, green, blue, strobe lights dancing across the room, taking shape in the centre of the carpet. You have to squint to fully understand the form taking shape, but when it does, your stomach drops.

  Made entirely of lights, standing in the middle of the room, is Cornelius Fudge, the jittery little minister of the wizard world.

  You've only seen him a few times, and never in person; a few times, he came to meet with Chiron in regards to escaped prisoners, wizards who wanted to harm demigods who were on the run. You never thought too much of him, but he looks angry now, his grubbly little face twisted into an expression of anger and loathing. When he speaks, his voice is loud and harsh, making you flinch with each syllable.

  “Chiron!” he exclaims. “I hope this message finds you well; I'm still trying to figure out the communication device you gave to me in our last meeting. It's all very confusing, and every time I press something wrong, thunder and lightening nearly wipe me out.” He coughs into a handkerchief before continuing. “Anyway, I'm here to inform you of a mishap which took place in the Malfoy Manor only a few short hours ago. I've been given word that one of your people tried breaking into Lucius's home to do God only knows what. It's only pure luck that Malfoy's son, Draco, was awake and was able to stop the wicked thing from getting through the door.”

   “Wicked thing?” you burst. Chiron raises a silencing hand, still refusing to look at you.

  “We as a nation are becoming very paranoid by the loose grip with which you have upon your own people; they are starting to become wild, careless, and I can truly see a murder from one of you in our future, which, as the Minister, I must put a stop to as soon as possible. Therefore, I demand the culprit be punished for his or her crimes, and I will be popping in soon with my witness to go over the details of the night to help you further understand where our fear is coming from.” Again, he coughs into a handkerchief. “Thank you. I hope the camp is well – the strawberries you sent were wonderful, as always! Good day to you, sir!”

  The lights blink out. The room is doused in silence. Inside your head, a scream echoes.

  You don't even know what to say. Would an apology even suffice? Would an explanation even be worth it? Years it has taken for the wizarding world and the demigod world to live in peace, and by the sounds of it, you've just annihilated all of that for the sake of a prank. You let Lucius Malfoy's hateful words burrow themselves into your head, which is probably exactly what he planned.

  Chiron puts the golden button back in his desk. The soft click it makes as it hits the wood echoes off the walls, so loud and gentle, so mocking. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet your own and says, “Now you can understand why we're all a little bit angry.”

  “A little bit?” You close your eyes, letting Annabeth's outburst ring throughout the room. “Chiron, I warned them! I warned them both! I said – what did I say Y/N? - I said-”

  “You said it was stupid, and that we shouldn't do it,” you mumble. “And we didn't listen.”

  “No, you didn't, and now you've given the wizard council a reason to think we're out to get them, which gives them a reason to announce open fucking warfare on us-”

  “Okay, Annabeth, calm down,” Chiron says. “We're taking this one step at a time. There's no point jumping ahead to things like that.”

  “Chiron, this is bad. This is so, so bad. The wizards are going to think we did this on purpose-”

  “Why are you saying we?” you ask. “Percy and I did this on our own. We'll take the consequences. We've done it before.” You turn to Chiron, who stands solemnly in the corner, head bowed as if deep in thought. “What are the consequences, may I ask?”

  He sighs, nostrils flaring. “We've decided that keeping you in camp for the rest of the summer will suffice for now. The Minister and his witness will be arriving in a few days and I want you to be on your best behaviour.”

  You scowl; the punishment is weak. You got off lucky, and you're aware of that, but it doesn't make it any more bearable. You hate being trapped, hate sitting in the Hades cabin with nothing but your own thoughts keeping you company. That's the hardest part about being a child of one of the Big Three – you're alone. It doesn't matter how many campers surround you, you are alone.

  But you take the punishment on the chin, giving Chiron a respectful nod before walking from the Big House to continue with the rest of your day. You'll find Percy and talk to him about everything, maybe apologise for dragging him into something so stupid, something so avoidable. If either of you had any flicker of common sense, none of this would have happened.

  It's only when you're halfway down the hill do you question anything Chiron has just told you.

  You falter, one word lingering in your mind. Witness.

  The only witness you can possibly think of is Draco Malfoy.

  ---

  He arrives in the afternoon, already looking so madly out of place.

  You spot his white hair, blowing so majestically in the wind Chiron has picked out for the day. His robes billow out around him, his sharp face stuck in an expression of anxiety. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes darting to and fro as he strolls through the centre of Camp Half-Blood with his father at his side and the stout Minister, Cornelius Fudge, strolling behind them.

  He looks so out of place. It would almost be humorous if you weren't burning with misplaced anger at the mere sight of him; he told on you. He ran to his father and touted on you, even after making it seem like he was going to let you go with no consequences, and now you're stuck in camp for the rest of the summer with absolutely nothing to do and barely anyone to talk to.

  “Dickhead.”

  “Is that him?”

  You jump at the sound of Annabeth's voice, very nearly dropping the spear you were working with before your distraction walked through the barriers.

  “That's him,” you reply. “Draco Malfoy.”

   “I meant the other guy. The one you went after.”

  “Oh, Lucius. Yeah. He's there, too.”

  Annabeth narrows her grey eyes, following the movements of the Malfoy boys. “You know, I can kind of understand why you wanted to put them in their place.”

  You open your mouth to respond, but the words collapse when Draco's head snaps in your direction, like he somehow sensed your presence. His eyes find yours, his face draining of what little colour it has; something inside you stirs, fingers curling impossibly tighter around the spear.

  You remember those eyes so well, shockingly well, strangely well. Waking up to them burning holes into your skull was an experience you don't think you'll forget, considering the shock that coursed through you at the mere sight of him. He was so calm, so curious, not even yelling the slurs his father seems so keen on.

  And you might have made it up. You might have just been imagining it, but you're almost certain he flicks his head in the direction of the bandstand set up on the far side of camp, nearly hidden beneath the canopy of trees. You continue to stare at him, too bewildered by the miniscule movement to respond before he disappears over the hill.

  “Come on,” Annabeth urges, nudging your arm. “Let's get back to training.”

  But you're too distracted now. Knowing that Lucius Malfoy and his son – Draco – are walking around Camp Half-Blood makes your moves sloppy. And then there's the matter of Draco's little signal, like he wants you to meet him somewhere, like he wants to talk to you.

  You have nothing to say to him, but that doesn't stop you being curious about what he wants to tell you.

  Annabeth swings her sword, very nearly clipping the side of your ear. You yelp, stumbling back. Your foot catches on a rock sticking up from the ground, and before you can react, you're sprawled across the grass with your spear laying in a heap at your side.

  Annabeth sighs, kicking the weapon away from your outstretched fingers. “What the hell was that, L/N?”

  You prop yourself up on an elbow. “You could have given me some warning.”

  “Oh yes, because the monsters will be so generous as to give you some warning.”

   You scowl, shoving up from the ground. “Look, I'm just gonna get some water before the next round, okay?”

  Annabeth falters, narrowing her eyes. “Just some water?”

  “Just some water.” You give her a dazzling smile, hoping to the gods that this is enough to convince her you are telling the truth. You know it's a long shot – Annabeth knows you better than anybody else, but she's learned from her mistakes. Trying to boss you around and tell you what to do will only ever end in disaster, and so she says nothing else as you set your gear back on the rack and head up the hill towards the bandstand, out of sight of Annabeth's suspicious glare.

  Draco isn't there when you arrive. The bandstand is deserted, the only sign of life being the tree nymphs poking their heads out of the canopy to see who has arrived on their territory. You shoo them away before slumping down on the bench set in the middle of the stand, gazing around with your heart beating wildly in your chest, and for no reason at all.

  He probably won't even show up. He probably hates you. He's probably too scared to face you after what he did, and honestly, you wouldn't even blame him.

  After ten minutes, you start losing hope. Chiron will be looking for you shortly, most likely tipped off by Annabeth that you disappeared for no reason instead of finishing your training session. It won't be long for them to add two and two together and realise exactly what you have gone to do-

  “I didn't think you'd actually show up. Thought you might have been banned from seeing me.”

  Your head snaps up. “Jesus, Draco. You scared the shit out of me!”

   There he is, all tall and lanky, white hair blowing away from his forehead, his weird robes billowing out around him. It's weird how a person can make such odd attire look nice, almost like an outfit you'd wear yourself.

  “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest; he sounds tired. “I thought you demigods were meant to have superhuman senses or something.”

  You raise a brow. “Our parents are gods, not superheroes.”

  “Same difference.”

  “I'm flattered.”

  He sits down beside you, shoulder bumping yours. “Don't be. It wasn't a compliment.”

   You fall into silence then, unsure of what to say, how to start the conversation you both know needs to be had. You had so much anger built up inside you only moments before, but the second you looked up and saw his face, it dispelled. You were reminded of them blue eyes gazing down at you when you awoke from your Stunning spell, how soft and worried they were for a complete stranger.

  Finally, he inhales deeply and says, “I didn't mean for this to get as big as it did.”

  “Everyone's mad at Percy and I. Me especially.”

  He tilts his head back, glaring up at the sky. “How badly did they punish you?”

   “I can't leave this place for the rest of the summer.”

  “Not too bad, then.”

  You glare at him. He cracks open an eye, catches your expression and raises a brow.

  “It is bad?” Lifting his head, he gestures towards the open stretch of grass in front of you. “This place looks amazing, Y/N. You've got everything you could possibly need, plus you're safe from all those crazy monsters we always get word about.”

  “The monsters don't bother me. I'm meant to go out and fight them; that's my purpose.”

   Draco glances at you. You feel his blue eyes burning holes into the side of your head, can feel the judgement radiating off him as he takes in what you've just said. You never realise just how strange other people must find statements like that, how backwards it truly is to crave the feel of battle.

  “You know, I'd kill to have a place like this.”

  You look at him. “Really? Is your mansion not enough?”

  He scowls, barrelling on like you haven't said anything. “A place where you feel like you belong.” He glances over. “You may hate being here sometimes, but look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel like this place is home.”

   You can't do that. Despite your desire to be free sometimes, your desire to head out on the streets where you don't belong, you know Camp Half Blood will always be home. It will always be the place you turn to when you need comfort, because it is the only place in the world that has ever accepted you and your weird abilities with open arms.

  Draco hums. “Exactly. I don't have that. I don't fit in anywhere; I'm not evil enough for my family, not good enough for everyone else. I'm on my own.”

    The silence that follows is a heavy one; you're not used to this kind of talk. You relate so strongly to his feelings, but you very rarely express them in quite the same way. At Camp Half-Blood, everyone is in the same boat. It's rude to think you have it worse than somebody else. Every single person here was abandoned by a parent, maybe even both.

  But Draco isn't a demigod, so maybe he won't mind.

  “I get that.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” You tug at your sleeve, pulling the material over your curled fingers. “I don't exactly come from the most well-loved bloodline in this place. Even other Half-Bloods take one look at me and cower.”

  “That blonde girl I saw you with-”

  You wave a dismissive hand. “That's Annabeth; she's more like a sister to me, but even she's wary of my powers.”

  Draco pauses. “What powers?”

  You open your mouth to respond, to go through the long list of the terrifying things you are capable of, but your words are cut short by the sound of a bark in the distance. Your head snaps up immediately, senses sparking to life before you've even fully processed where the noise is coming from. Around you, the tension in the camp is amplified as the other Half-Bloods spring to the same level of alertness.

  Draco straightens up, reaching into his back pocket for a wand that you can almost guarantee will be completely useless within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. You place a hand on his shoulder as you stand, pushing him back down onto the bench.

  “Stay here.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks, head darting left and right. “What was that?”

  “I don't know, but it didn't sound good.”

   “So call someone!”

  You raise a brow, shooting him a glance over your shoulder. He looks like a scared little boy, hands balled against his chest, eyes darting to and fro. They join with yours eventually, softening almost immediately.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “We don't just call someone at Camp Half-Blood. We deal with this stuff on our own.”

  Draco falters. His eyes narrow, though the expression doesn't last long; suddenly, he cries out and lurches forward, pointing madly to a space just over your shoulder. You spin just in time, yanking your sword from your belt and swinging blindly. Your shoulder smashes against the dirt, giving you a view of the beast that has just tried ripping you to shreds.

  A chimera.

  You recognise it. Of course you do. The lion head and snake tail are kind of difficult to forget.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Draco, go!” you yell, rolling onto your knees and swinging your sword yet again. The chimera dives, talons outstretched, mouth open in a roar.

It's massive paws slam into your shoulders, shoving you back yet again. You cry out, struggling to lift your sword with the weight pressing against your chest, the blood now seeping from two wounds in your shoulders. Over the chimera's massive shoulders, you can see Draco jumping from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to do.

  “Why are you still stood there?” you scream.

  Your yelling triggers something within the chimera. You watch the gears turn in its head, its red eyes gleaming before it spins, it's tail snapping out and wrapping around your wrist. You cry out, sword clattering to the floor before you're yanked to your feet and thrown carelessly against the bench you were previously sat on.

  Draco spins. “Y/N!”

  You groan, looking up through bleary eyes; your sword isn't like Percy's. It won't just reappear in your pocket any time you lose connection with it. Where it lies in the grass, feet away from you, it will stay.

  That means you only have one way to get this beast away from you and Draco.

  It takes all of your strength, and it's never easy, but you push through the pain and the exhaustion and pull on that little trigger within your body. Something surges inside you, a feeling so familiar it almost feels like second nature. The floor rumbles. Draco yelps, clinging desperately to the back of the bench, but you keep your eyes on the chimera. It digs its foot into the dirt, growls low in its throat, and then it dives.

  The skeleton's hand bursts from the ground, wraps around the chimera's ankle and pulls it back.

  As soon as the chimera's chin hits the dirt, you bounce to your feet and sprint towards your sword. You snatch it from the ground, spin and slash through the air, no longer caring what part of the beast you hit, just as long as you injure it somehow.

  It strikes through the goats head that protrudes from the chimera's back.

  Black blood oozes from the monsters back end. It splatters up your arms, tiny dots sprinkling your face, but you don't have the time to ponder on that. You swing again, this time going for the neck. The chimera screams, but as soon as your sword makes contact with it's bushy mane, the scream disappears. The chimera bursts into golden powder in front of you, blowing away in the wind.

  A pair of hands wraps around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall to your knees.

  “Holy shit,” you whisper against Draco's collar. “Are you okay?”

Draco can't speak. Looking up, you see his lower jaw rattling, words fighting to the surface but being unable to push past his wall of fear. He looks everywhere but your face, as if trying to figure out where on earth the chimera disappeared to.

  “It's gone for now,” you say, throat dry. “You're safe, Magic Boy.”

  “How did that get in here?”

  Annabeth's voice echoes up the hill. Glancing over your shoulder, you see her marching in your direction, Chiron and Percy walking by her side. At the bottom of the hill, the other Half-Bloods look up, shocked at the sight in front of them. Your disgruntled form being held up by a wizard is certainly not a normal sight at Camp Half-Blood.

  “Y/N,” Percy exclaims. “Are you alright?”

  “Just peachy,” you croak out. “I think I might be bleeding out, though.”

  “Someone get some ambrosia,” Chiron demands, and it's with gentle hands that he extracts you from Draco's grip and lowers you to the floor. He looks up at Draco and says, “Are you alright, boy?”

  “T-the skeletons,” Draco stammers. “They just – they just came out of the floor!”

  Chiron smiles gently. “So I see you've been witness to our Y/N's miraculous abilities, hm?”

  Draco's eyes widen. “Y/N did that?”

  “Yes, you idiot,” Annabeth hisses, shouldering Draco out of the way so she can kneel beside you. She dabs a wet cloth against your shoulder, and you hiss at the contact.

  Percy arrives shortly after with an air tight bag of ambrosia, which you eat in about two seconds flat.

  “How did that get in here?” Percy asks.

  “The barriers were open already,” Chiron replies. “We needed to let the Minister and his men inside the camp, so we had to weaken them a little bit. We must have weakened them too much, and the chimera found a way in.”

   “Or this is the gods playing some sick trick on us,” says Annabeth. “Remember when Percy first arrived and they thought it would be funny to let the Minotaur roam free?”

  “This isn't the gods,” you mumble. “I haven't done anything to make them mad.”

  “So it's the wizards, then.” Annabeth whirls on Draco, folding her arms over her chest. You close your eyes, listening to Percy chuckle lightheartedly at your side. Both of you have given up trying to calm her down at this point. “You and your people just have to come in and ruin everything, don't you?”

  Draco blinks. He's barely spoken the entire time, clearly still trying to figure out what the hell he has just witnessed.

  Annabeth laughs coldly. “When will you and your people get the hint that we don't want you here. We don't want anything to do with you! It's you lot who have so much to say about us, and the minute we retaliate, you take a little hissy fit and have to get the bloody council involved! Well, goodbye to you. Get out of our camp and stay out or else the next monster to attack you won't be killed by us – you can deal with it on your own with your fancy magic spells.”

  She turns back, flicking her curls in Draco's face.

  You shyly glance up and mumble, “Sorry about her.”

   “And although that speech held a lot of passion,” Chiron cuts in, placing a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, “I'm afraid Mr Malfoy and his people cannot leave the camp until the barriers have been sorted.”

    Silence.

  Even you're too stunned to speak, staring up at Chiron as if waiting for the punchline of some joke. He simply looks around, examining the invisible barriers surrounding you, most likely seeing every single gap and crack held within them.

  Percy is the first to break the silence. “Uh. . . Why not?”

  “Well,” Chiron says, “the barriers have been split. If we were to open them any further to let these men out, I fear they might be unsalvageable. We can't risk it.”

  “So we're just gonna let them stay here?” Annabeth hisses.

  “I can't do that!” Draco exclaims, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “I have school, and my mother-”

  “This isn't up for debate,” Chiron says. “I must keep the safety of my people in mind at all times, and this is the only solution that will keep them safe.”

  Annabeth scoffs. “I wouldn't say letting the Malfoy's in our space is keeping us safe.”

  “That is because you're blinded by your ignorance.”

   You and Percy take sharp breaths through your teeth, watching Annabeth's face drop. It would almost be sad if you weren't in agreement with the centaur.

  And it's weird because you used to have the exact same thought process as Annabeth; all you read about wizards was how much they despised your kind, how they saw you as unnatural, a mistake, because gods aren't meant to have children with mortals. Mortals – or Muggles – aren't meant to carry such powerful beings.

  And yet here you are, looking at Draco and feeling even the tiniest glimmer of excitement at the idea of having him stay with you for a little while.

  Chiron turns back to Draco and says, “You can stay in cabin eleven with the Hermes kids. That's where all the newcomers go.”

  Draco pales. “I really don't think this is a good idea...”

  “It's the only idea we have,” Chiron says. “Now, get ready for the feast. You must be starving.”

  ---

  Draco doesn't go to the feast. Apparently, he isn't as starved as Chiron made him out to be.

  Instead, he follows you to the infirmary, despite having no injuries himself. Will Solace feeds you chunks of ambrosia, keeping a narrowed gaze on Draco as he sits by your bedside, saying nothing. He looks thoughtful, head ducked down, hands perched between his legs; he hasn't spoken a single word since the two of you arrived, and his skin is yet to find colour again.

  You glance at Will and whisper, “Is he looking okay to you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Will replies, pressing a damp cloth to your shoulder blade. “But I'm not one hundred percent sure how wizards are supposed to look in the first place, so I can't really say.”

  “Have you got any juice or anything like that you can give him?”

  Will hollows out his cheeks, clearly not appreciating the idea of using up resources on a wizard. Nonetheless, the son of Apollo is too kind for his own good and heads into the back room to grab a juice box. He hands it to Draco with a soft smile, one Draco does not return, before Will says he's going to go check on the other campers. He leaves you alone after that, the room empty besides you and Draco.

  Draco doesn't look up. He doesn't really need to; even without seeing his face, you know what expression he will be wearing, as it is the same expression so many people have worn after watching you bring the dead up from the ground.

  You bite your lip and say, “The food is good here. Are you sure you don't want to go and get some dinner?”

  Draco slowly looks up. His eyes are bloodshot, strained, glinting light blue beneath the yellow lights. “Who is your godly parent?”

  You pause. “Why do you care?”

  “Because what I just saw you do-”

    “Hades,” you blurt out, unable to bear hearing him go into detail again, unable to bear the disgust that will surely ring through his voice. “Hades is my father. I'm the kid he was never supposed to have.”

  Draco stares at you, waiting for you to continue, but what else is there to say? There's no relationship to describe, no happy memories with your dad you can share. All there is to it, is that you are not meant to be here, and you are.

  “And you . . . you have no brothers or sisters? You're all alone?”

  Your eyes snap up. “I'm not alone. I have Percy, and Annabeth, and. . . and everyone else. Plus, I have a little brother – Nico.”

  Draco perks up, like the idea of you having a little brother is something to be excited about. “Really? Where is he?”

  “He's floating around somewhere,” you reply. “He doesn't really like staying in one place for too long; I only really see him when he comes to visit me or his boyfriend.”

   Draco withers. “Oh.”

  “Why do you care anyway?”

  He scowls. “I don't care. I'm just curious. If I'm to stay here for the next few days, I might as well get to know you a little better.”

  “It works both ways, Magic Man. Tell me, why is your father such a little bitch?”

  “I could ask the same thing about yours.”

  “My dad is the god of death. What's your dad's excuse?”

  Draco glares. You grin, slowly leaning back on the hospital bed as you wait for his response, because you genuinely want to know. You've spent years reading articles orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy that go into great detail about why he hates demigods so much, why he thinks they're the scum of the earth; now, you have his son at your disposal, and you're determined to find out where these violent opinions have stemmed from.

  Draco sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “My father just doesn't like people who are different.”

  You pause. “Different?”

   “People who aren't pure-blood wizards are basically bottom tier to him. That includes Muggle borns, Squibs, Muggles, demigods.”

  “But he doesn't even know anything about demigods.”

  Draco shrugs heavily. “He knows you're different. That's all he cares about.”

  It makes sense, you suppose. Lucius has never kept his ignorance a secret. It's not just demigods he speaks badly about. You've read it all – his hatred for Muggles, for people who disagree with him, for good people.

  People who aren't like him.

  “And what about you?” you ask.

  Draco flicks his eyes up, still messing with his fingers. “What about me?”

  “How do you feel about demigods?” You gesture around the room. “Now that you've seen us in action; what are your thoughts?”

  Draco shrugs, looking back down at his intertwined hands. He has nice hands. Muscled, long fingers, expensive rings. “I think it's all quite odd, but I'll get used to it. I'm gonna be stuck here with you for a while, so I don't really have a choice, do I?”

  You smile. “No, I don't think so.”

  ---

  The dreams are worse that night.

  They always are after you have been injured. Already restless, you aren't strong enough to fight off the nightmares that swarm your mind, and tonight they come for you in full force.

  You always call them nightmares, even though they really aren't. More like visions, people visiting you when you least expect it. You've had Poseidon visit your dreams, Athena, even Ares, but tonight, someone new is making an appearance.

  You recognise him immediately. He has the same eyes as you.

  “Dad.”

  He stands waist deep in black mist. Curly black hair frames a chiselled face, dark eyes gazing at you with a look close enough to love that you get a little emotional. By his side is a three-headed dog, and in his hand is a skull, held so casually. Neither of you mention it. Neither of you need to.

  The room is dark. Looking down, you see black mist crawling towards you, hiding your legs from view. You should probably be panicking, but something is holding you back.

  “Dad,” you repeat. “Where's Nico?”

  “Safe,” he responds, voice too calm for a man whose son has been missing for weeks. Voice too calm for a man who is standing in front of the child he abandoned so many years ago. “And how are you, child?”

  “Good. Better than ever, actually.”

  “Even with the company you have been keeping recently?”

  You pause, certain you misheard. Hades raises a brow, tilting his head as if to say Are you going to try and tell me otherwise?

  Swallowing, you say, “So this is about Draco.”

   “This is about the wizards in general,” Hades corrects. “Don't think I didn't notice you getting comfortable with that boy.”

  “I wouldn't exactly say comfortable-”

  “He held you up when you fell.”

   “And that was very nice of him.”

  “That was inappropriate.”

  You fall silent, cheeks heating up. You truly cannot believe your dad – your real life father – is stood in front of you giving dating advice. He needs to take one look at his own history with women and sort himself out before he comes running to you.

  “Wizards aren't safe around our people, Y/N,” Hades continues. “You aren't meant to mingle with people like him.”

  “I think that's a little harsh.”

  “His father wants you dead.”

  “My father wants everyone dead! You're the god of the underworld, for crying out loud!”

  Hades's eyes widen for a moment, clearly shocked at your outburst, but you don't even have the strength to reel it back in. You have felt frustration towards many of the Olympians, all of whom seem to believe they have some sort of control over you, but the one Olympian who makes you angriest the quickest, is the one stood right in front of you, the one who shares your blood, the one who hooked up with your mum one day before abandoning her, along with the kid he always claimed he was never going to have.

  You don't even care that he's a god. You don't care that he could kill you in two seconds flat if he so desired.

  “Chiron did not raise you to have such a sour attitude,” Hades says after a moment.

  You deflate, eyes slipping closed. “There's really no point in trying to get through to you, is there?”

  “It is my job as a father-”

  You scoff.

  “-to keep my kids safe. That's what I'm doing.”

   Your eyes pop open. “Keep us safe? Bianca's dead, Dad. Nico's gone rogue. The only reason I haven't been slaughtered is because I never expected you to keep an eye on me – I do everything on my own.”

  “That's not true,” Hades growls. “You know that's not true.”

  “No? So where's my little brother then, huh? Where's Bianca? Where were you yesterday when a fucking chimera nearly ripped me to shreds, huh? Where were you then?”

  “I'm a busy man, Y/N, but I'm serious when I say that wizards are not the kinds of-”

  “This isn't about the wizards!” you yell, throwing your hands up. The ground rumbles, but neither you nor Hades acknowledge it. “This is about you coming into my dreams, thinking you can just lay down some fatherly rules after nearly eighteen years of not giving a shit about me!”

  His eyes flash. Within the dark irises, you catch a glimpse of a screaming face, and you know exactly what he must be hearing in the back of his mind right now. You hear it sometimes, too, only he must be much more used to it than you are.

  “I have always cared for you,” he says. “Even when my brothers and sisters were punishing me for having another demigod child, I cared for you. I kept them from harming you. I made sure you reached Camp Half-Blood safely so that you could be under the protection of people who knew where you came from.”

  “And they've been more like family to me than you have ever been.”

  Hades closes his eyes. A god dejected. A god not getting what he wants. It's a rare but pleasant sight.

  “I'd like to wake up now,” you mumble. “I appreciate you stopping in, but please never do it again.”

  Hade's looks at you, and you hate the resemblance. You hate that pull, so mortal and familial. You can't even help it. It's like the genes you got from this man are desperate for you to just make up with him, to just see him as the dad he is.

  But you can't.

  He argues no further, clicking his fingers to send you out of your sleep. You awake, startled, eyes snapping open to the sight of your dark room, the smell of ash heavy in the air. You flick your eyes over to see your bedside table gone – yet again, you incinerated it in your sleep.

  “Fuck sake,” you whisper.

  “I put it out.”

  You yelp, very nearly falling out of bed in your shock. Your head snaps up, hands grappling for your sword, only to pause when you look over and see Draco standing in the doorway wearing a white dress shirt and black trousers.

  He looks exceptionally smart.

  Exceptionally smart.

  Your heart jumps as you push yourself up, running a self conscious hand through your bed head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Chiron asked me to wake you. He said you have training today.”

  You groan, flopping back into your pillows. Draco chuckles, and before you can tell him to stop, he strolls right over to your window and pulls the black out curtains open.

  “Noooo,” you moan, rolling onto your stomach and stuffing your head in the pillows.

  Draco chuckles. “Come on. It's already nine am. The climbing wall is gonna be packed if you don't wake up now.”

  You peek an eye out of your pillow and glare at him. “How do you even know about the climbing wall?”

  “Poseidon's son gave me a little tour after I left the infirmary yesterday; quite a nice little place you've got here, I must say. I'm quite fond of it all.”

  “Oh, happy days. As long as you're happy.”

  He grins, sharp as knives. “I feel like I'm on holiday.”

  You swing your legs out of bed. “You're digging yourself into a deeper hole, Malfoy.”

   “I can just sit back, kick my feet up, watch you lot fight a bunch of mythical creatures-”

  You lob a sock at him. “Get out while I get changed.”

   Draco grins before bowing out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

  And so you get ready for the day, getting dressed in your usual Camp Half-Blood shirt and a pair of comfortable jogging bottoms. The sun is bright this morning, a clear indicator that Chiron and the gods are in a bit of a better mood than they were yesterday, when rain was breaking through the already damaged seals of the camps barriers.

  As promised, the climbing wall is set up and booming with Half-Bloods. People from all the different cabins take turns going up against one another, clambering up one side of the wall, racing each other to the top as lava pours down from nowhere, lightening strikes zap through the centre of the wooden beam, as random hands appear out of nowhere and make swipes for legs and arms and faces.

  You spot Draco sat by himself in the stands, wand twirling in his fingers. It could very well be an intimidation tactic, but you stroll up beside him anyway, taking a seat to watch the scene before you unfold; someone from the Ares cabin has gone up against someone from the Athena cabin, a deadly pairing when put together.

  Draco doesn't budge when you sit down. Instead, he points and says, “I think the one with the spear is going to win.”

  “Clarisse?” you say. “Yeah, probably. She's a stubborn bitch.”

  “Daughter of...”

  “Ares.”

 “God of...”

  You roll your eyes. “Have you ever actually looked into the Greek myths?”

   Draco shrugs, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his long limbs out in front and says, “I was educated more in the ways of Dark Magic than Greek myths.”

  “Boring.”

  “Necessary, I think.”

   “Tell me how that all works.”

  Draco glances over. “Magic?”

  “The world of magic. It sounds. . . confusing.”

  Draco pauses for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. As he ponders, the two of you watch Clarisse make her way to the top of the climbing wall, where she pulls the ring loose of it's confines and holds it up to the sound of applause and cheers from the people on the ground. She hops off, landing in a crouch on the ground; her brothers and sisters swarm her, all but lifting her off her feet in celebration.

  Finally, Draco speaks. “It really is just a whole different world. Different to. . . any other world, I guess. We dress differently-”

  “Yes.”

  “The structure of the whole thing is different. You get used to it after a while, but I guess being here is making me realise just how weird the way things are run back home really are.”

  “But it's what you're used to, isn't it?” you say. “You must have thought the way we did things was weird when you first arrived.”

  Draco scoffs. “Skeletons coming up from the floor? Definitely weird.”

  Your cheeks heat up, despite the lack of malice in his voice. Your powers are still – and forever will be – a sensitive topic for you; you've had far too many bad experiences with them to ever be comfortable flaunting them around like the other Half-Bloods are capable of doing. Even now, you watch the Hephaestus kids make fire sprout from their fingertips without so much as a flicker of hesitation – you've never been able to do that, because people take one look at what you're capable of and immediately think you're some kind of devil spawn, there just to drag them into the pits of hell or something.

  Draco nudges you, pulling you from your trance. When you look over, he gestures towards the climbing wall. You follow his gaze to see Percy standing in the centre, waving up at you, arms wild above his head, that goofy grin on his stupid face.

  “I think he wants you to join him,” Draco mumbles.

  You glance over. “You don't mind?”

  “I'll stay here and cheer you on. How about that?”

   You stare at him a second longer, the wand twirling between his nimble fingers; oh, it would be so easy to hate him. That cocky smirk, the subtle hostility to everything he says. You weren't made to like wizards, but Draco Malfoy is starting to grow on you.

  You give him a smile before hopping from your seat and jogging down into the grounds. People cheer at your arrival, because this is the match they have all been waiting for; scared as they may be to face your powers on their own, they would never give up the opportunity to watch two kids of the Big Three go head to head against one another. This is truly the only time you feel comfortable using your powers.

  Percy shakes your hand when you reach him, dragging you close so he can whisper in your ear. “You and Dynamo getting a little close up there?”

   You shove him away, not even giving him an answer before you hop up onto the first ring of the climbing wall. “You coming, Seaweed Brain?”

  Percy rolls his eyes, taking position on the other side of the climbing wall. In the stands, a whistle blows, and immediately the two of you start.

  Percy's quick. Percy has always been quick. From the day he strolled into camp, dragging Grover along with him, he has proven how powerful he is.

  But you're also pretty quick, pretty lithe, just as capable as him.

  You don't even fully process where he is, much too focused on avoiding the downfall of lava dribbling down the side of the climbing wall. The heat singes your hand as you pull yourself up, and you have to grit your teeth to stop the cry of panic that always wants to make it's way to the surface when this happens.

  Percy has the advantage, of course; he just summons some water from thin air, and the lava is immediately overpowered. He laughs at your scowl, pulling himself further along the climbing wall.

  “Okay, Mr Jackson,” you mutter. “If that's really how you want to play it.”

  You pull on something within your stomach, a trick your sister Hazel was able to teach you when you visited her in the Roman camp all those months ago. You reach a hand out, grabbing the iron ore before it soars above your head after being ripped from the ground by your powers. It's not much – you're much better with a sword – but you throw it, using your powers to push it away from your body, straight towards Percy's face. It smacks him in the nose, making him cry and stumble. He slips from the ring he is hanging onto, dropping a few feet before finally latching onto another; blood oozes from his nose, and he glares up at you as you quicken your pace, hoping to put as much distance between you both as humanly possible.

  “That wasn't very fair, you know!” Percy yells up.

  “Gotta do what you gotta do!” you yell back, which of course prompts Percy to shoot a blast of water straight at your legs. You yelp, grip loosening on the ring you have grip on.

  But then you're falling, because the thing about water is that it makes surfaces extremely slippery, and not even a child of Hades can overpower that. You desperately try latching onto something – anything – that can soften your fall, but your moving too quick, and the rings are zooming past, out of reach, and you know this is it. You're going to fall to the floor and break some bones and be out of commission for weeks, because that's what always happens when Percy gets competitive. You're starting to get real-

  “Wingardium Leviosa!”

  Another yelp is ripped from your throat, this one more a yelp of surprise as you suddenly become light as a feather. The wind stops whistling in your ears, replaced now by the gasps coming from the ground, and the sound of Percy yelling, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” over and over again.

  Ever so gently, you are lowered onto the floor. As soon as your feet hit solid ground, you are engulfed by a crowd of Half-Bloods, all coming to make sure you're okay, have not been harmed despite that being the way of things in this place.

  Percy clambers off the climbing wall and dashes to your side, wrapping you in a brotherly hug as soon as he reaches you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard-”

  “'Course you didn't.”

  “You had it coming!” He points to his nose, still dripping blood. “Look what you did to me!”

  You roll your eyes before craning your neck to get a better view over the heads of your fellow campers. You catch sight of him immediately, leaning against the stands with his wand still twirling in his fingers, the tiniest of smirks present on his pale face.

  Your stomach turns; he had used his magic, cast some sort of spell to stop you from hitting the floor.

  You probably need to thank him for that.

  However, as soon as he meets your eyes, he does nothing but wink and turn on his heel, strolling oh-so-casually towards cabin eleven.

  ----

  “So are you going to tell me what that was?”

  You scream. Your hands fly above your head, knocking the low hung lamp shade dangling from the roof of the Hades cabin.

  Spinning, you catch sight of your father stood in the corner of your room, shrunken down to the size of a normal human being. He likes playing pretend, apparently, but you see right through it. His dark eyes are narrowed, and leaning against the wall beside him is the scythe he so often carries around with him.

  “That's an intimidation tactic,” you pant, motioning to the scythe. “It's not gonna work me on, Big Guy.”

  “Don't ignore my question,” he snaps. “What did that boy do to you when you were falling?”

  You slowly straighten up. “You saw that?”

  “Answer the question.”

   “Why do you think I have an answer?” you exclaim. “I know just as much about the wizarding world as you do! I don't know what he did, but I'm not dead, so I'm not gonna bother questioning it.” You grab a pomegranate seed from the bowl beside your bed, popping it into your mouth before you point a stern finger at the god standing in your room. “And you shouldn't either; he saved your child's life.”

  “My children are capable of protecting themselves. That's how you were raised.”

  You roll your eyes, flopping down on your bed. “This again? Where do you get off talking about raising kids?”

  For a brief second, Hades pauses. You savour it, the moment his face twists into one of uncertainty, as if only just then realising where he has messed up; he can talk all he wants about his children and how you're all just like him, but he can never claim to have made you into the people you are today.

  You hum, smirking. “That's what I thought.”

   Hades snatches the bowl of seeds out of your hand and slams them back onto the bedside table. The room rattles much more than necessary, but you spare the trembling walls only a single glance before turning your attention back on your father. He glares down at you, no longer justifying your attitude with words. He's waiting patiently for you to just open up and tell him exactly what happened, waiting for you to just admit that what happened out there was messed up, and unnatural, and you will never see Draco ever again if you can help it-

  “He saved my life.”

  You believe it, even though it takes every fibre of your willpower to admit such a thing. Demigods don't just get saved. They do the saving. They live their lives getting trained to protect themselves, because they know nobody else will. Today, all those years of training disappeared, and you should have died. You should have fallen to the ground as punishment for your lack of concentration, but Draco had stepped in and given you a second chance.

  And maybe that's dramatic. Maybe looking at it as a second chance was taking it a step too far, but he had done something, and you can't just sit back and pretend otherwise.

  Hades straightens up. In mortal form, his full height is only around five foot nine, but he still manages to look intimidating. It's the eyes. You wonder if people think the same thing about you when you look at them.

  “My brothers and sisters have been voicing their concerns about you getting too close to the Malfoys,” he says, voice softer now. “I told them not to worry, that no child of mine would ever fraternise with people like them. And yet here we are.”

  You pause. “Here we are, yeah.”

   “Lucius won't be happy to hear his son has helped save the life of a Half-Blood.”

  “Lucius Malfoy won't be happy, period. Plus, I haven't even spoken to him the entire time he's been here.”You push yourself up into a sitting position. “Draco isn't like Lucius, Dad. They are two separate people, just like me and you.”

  Hades clenches his jaw. You've hit a nerve. You always do when you bring up just how desperately you want to be separated from your father, just how much you despise being told you look like him, or you do something like him.

  He looks at you with those dark eyes and says, “You're stubborn, you know. That's a trait you get from me, not your mother.”

  “You're grasping at straws now.”

  “You're more like me than you'll ever be willing to admit, but everyone sees it. Nico and Bianca. . . they had little traits of me within them, but not as much as you. You really are my child.”

   Your stomach clenches, and it's confusing. It's so, so confusing, and so painful, because there's a part of you that basks in these comments. He's your dad. No matter how much you try denying it, there has always been a part of you that wants to know you're a little bit like your dad, and yet there's that hostility that begs and clambers for any excuse you can use to go against such a thing.

  You look away, fighting the urge to cry that always seems to rise to the surface when Hades is in your vicinity. “Can you just leave, please? I'm not going to stop talking to Draco just because you lot upstairs have a grudge against his family.”

   Hades sighs. “I know you won't. But you can't say I didn't warn you.”

  “Get out, Dad!”

  When you next look up, the room is empty. Nico and Bianca's beds are desolate, pushed against the wall, suffering from years of neglect. Once again, you are alone. Outside, Draco's shadow passes the window, accompanied by Lucius.

  ----

  Draco seems to be getting comfortable in camp.

  Your father doesn't like this.

  You see, Hades has a very annoying way of making his anger obvious, especially when the anger is pointed towards his children. You will be sat talking to Draco, having a seemingly normal conversation about whatever the days endeavours are holding, when suddenly a scream will plunge right through the centre of your brain, impossible to ignore.

  It's painful sometimes. The headaches that often follow are the kind that leaves you sweating, unable to look into any form of light lest you make it worse. Hades doesn't take this into consideration, however, as he continues giving you these flashes throughout the next week and a half.

  It's another one of his stupid fear tactics. You know it is. He wants to make you suffer so you'll be on his side through intimidation, and you're not willing to give in to him like that. Gods don't always get what they want. That's something they need to learn.

  And so, you continue talking to Draco, and honestly, he's starting to become a friend. He's still a little drawn back, and you can only imagine the reasoning behind that is because Lucius is breathing down his neck every two seconds. Whilst Draco is taking the moral high ground and getting used to life at Camp Half-Blood, Lucius refuses to do such a thing. He spends his days brooding away in the Big House, getting angry when Chiron or any of the other Half-Bloods step foot in what he has now claimed as his domain. The Big House has basically become Out of Bounds whilst the Malfoys are in your presence, because Lucius throws a tantrum any time anyone besides him and his fellow wizards step foot inside of it.

  It's on day twelve that you and Draco sit together in the grass upon the hill. In your lap is a colouring book that Percy stole for you a few years back, one you haven't touched because you very rarely have the time to just sit down and colour something in. He said it got rid of stress or something like that. You wonder if it works.

  Draco lays down beside you, gazing up at the baby blue sky. He has one hand cupped across his forehead, the other resting on his stomach. His ice blue eyes are a little lighter when the sun hits them, and you can see some golden streaks in his silver hair.

  You colour in a picture of Poseidon, already excited to show Percy the final product.

  “Look at this picture a second,” you say after too many minutes of silence. “Tell me if that guy looks like Percy.”

   Draco flicks his gaze over, lifting his head just slightly to get a better view. “Percy?”

  “The son of Poseidon,” you confirm. “The annoying one who blew up your fountain.”

  “Oh, him.” Draco scowls, dropping his head back to the grass. “I suppose it looks a little bit like him, yes. Why?”

  You tilt the colouring book back and forth, humming as you inspect the drawing; it's badly done, of course, with the image probably taken from Google Images, drawn by some human who didn't know any better. For example, they drew him wearing some fancy toga-looking thing instead of his usual khaki shorts and Hawaiian button-up. You've also known Poseidon to enjoy getting his hair permed, but his hair is dead straight in the colouring book.

  “I just think Percy looks a lot like his dad,” you reply. “Not in this picture, obviously – Poseidon wouldn't be caught dead with his eyebrows looking like that. But in real life, I swear, they're the picture of each other.”

   Draco grunts. Not exactly the response you were looking for.

  You glance down at him, raising a brow. “Not gonna add anything helpful to the conversation?”

   “What could I possibly add? I don't know the Greek gods personally.”

  “Really?”

  Draco glares at you. “Forgive me for not fraternising with mythological gods, Y/N. I don't have quite the same relationship with them as you do.”

  You hold up your hands in faux surrender, recognising his angry tone. “Alright, fair enough. No need to get grumpy.”

  “You and Percy are really close.”

   It isn't a question, and you suppose it doesn't have to be. Anyone who has known you for more than two seconds will be able to see that you and Percy are close, having been through so much together. “Yeah, we are. What's wrong with that?”

   Draco slips his hand from his forehead over his eyes and mumbles, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” But his heart isn't in it, and you're not exactly convinced he's telling the truth. You haven't known Draco all that long, but you're pretty confident now in your abilities to pick up when he's angry, or frustrated, as you have seen it more often than any other emotion.

  You glance at him, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Why would I think there was something wrong with you having a friend?” He pauses a moment before adding, “He is just a friend, isn't he?”

   It clicks.

  Your cheeks heat up with the realisation. You're thankful that Draco is covering his eyes, because otherwise he would have surely been able to see your shocked expression, and that isn't the look you want to give off right now; you need to remain calm and collected, make sure you're reading this right before you go and lose your cool.

  Awkwardly, you push the colouring book onto the grass and turn your attention fully on Draco. He stiffens when he feels you move, though he doesn't look at you. He doesn't even move his hand away from his face. You wonder if perhaps he doesn't want to show you his true expression, either.

  “Yes,” you say. “Percy is just a friend. He's never been anything more than that.”

  “Oh right. Nice.”

  “Would...” You inhale, glancing down into camp. You're not used to this. Actual emotions, they're scary things. You've never been able to properly handle them. “Would that be an issue if he was?”

  This time, Draco is unable to hide his embarrassment. Beneath his hands, his pale cheeks flush red, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows and says, “No. It's none of my business.”

  “Well, it's just 'cause, like, you asked, and I just thought-”

  “Thought what?” Finally he looks at you, eyes narrowed. “Thought I cared about what you got up to when I'm not around?”

  You reel back at his tone. “What? No! Well – yeah, I guess, because clearly some part of you cares-”

  “You and Percy can do whatever you want.” He stands, wiping the grass from the elbows of his fancy black blazer. “I honestly couldn't care less. It's not like I'm sticking around much longer, anyway.”

  You raise a brow. “Are you mad? How the hell did that happen? I didn't even say anything!”

   “I'm not bloody mad.” He groans, spinning on his heel as he runs his hands through his hair. You don't even go after him, too stunned to even move. Instead, you just watch his retreating form, only for him to stop a few feet away, turn back and say, “Do you just forget the fact that he was about to let you fall to your death?”

  You freeze. This was not the turn you were expecting the conversation to make. “Come again?”

  “On that climbing wall,” Draco exclaims. “He watched you fall, Y/N! He didn't do anything to stop it from happening, and I refuse to believe he wasn't able to, because from what I've heard, he's one of the most powerful things in this bloody camp!”

   “Things?”

  “Oh, you know what I meant!”

  You shoot up then, anger flooding your system. This is happening too often. You're losing your grip on the control you have trained so hard to gather, and it's all Draco's fault. “No, Draco, I don't actually know what you mean. In case you've forgotten, you're in our home, so don't you dare come in here claiming to know what we see is right and wrong. Percy might be one of the stronger demigods, but so am I. I can handle myself, and Percy knows that! That's the only reason he didn't do anything-”

   “That's his excuse, is it?” Draco laughs, a bitter noise that makes your blood boil. “I wonder how long it took for him to brainwash you into believing that.”

  That's what does it.

  You remember all those times Percy has saved your life. You remember spending weeks by his side, on the run from the worlds most terrifying monsters. You remember crying with your belief that he was dead, imagining a life without your best friend, your companion.

  And here Draco is, acting like he knows Percy better than you, deeming him a bad person just because of a single mishap he happened to witness, a mishap he doesn't even fully understand.

  Behind you, the black cloud arises from the ground. Without even looking, you know it's there, consuming you in tendrils of darkness. Draco's eyes widen, a cry of surprise escaping him before he stumbles back.

  The cloud follows him.

  In your head, you listen to the screams of the souls that make up that cloud, the souls you can control with nothing more than a brief thought nowadays. Draco cries out, nearly falling over his feet. Soon, you can no longer see him as he disappears behind the black curtain.

  You stay exactly where you are, watching him run down the hill, being chased by this power you have total control over. It's fuelled by anger, and you know you're going to get in trouble for doing it, but in this moment, you don't even care. You'll deal with the repercussions later, so long as Draco learns his lesson now.

  It's once the young wizard has disappeared round the corner that you let the souls drop. They sink back into the floor, a rush of energy slamming back into your body now that the strenuous work is over. The hill you are standing on goes silent bar the sound of the snickering tree nymphs.

  And then, just by your left ear, your fathers voice whispers, “Good job, Y/N. Definitely my child.”

  ----

   Percy always knows when something is wrong with you.

  There's something in the air, he says, a buzzing that he recognises as something he too possesses when he's angry. It's like the children of the Big Three communicate their anger through this weird little hum that only the other mistakes can hear.

  He must notice it now.

  He sits across from you at the lake, his toes dipping in the water as you keep your knees drawn to your chest, fingers sunk in the dirt. You keep your eyes on the tide as it sways in and out, but Percy keeps his eyes on you, waiting for the moment you will turn and look at him.

  But you don't.

  You don't want to answer his questions right now. You don't want to go into detail about what Draco said, about what you did to him, about how guilty you feel even though you know you shouldn't. You have used that scare tactic on so many people in the past, and it's always been for good reason – not once have you ever felt guilty about it.

  Not until now.

  Finally, Percy sighs and says, “So you're just gonna sit there and not tell me what's up?”

  Leave it to him to be blunt.

  You glance over and shrug, unsure where to even begin. You want to tell him the truth, of course; he's like a brother to you. The world always feels a little off when you're not telling him every little detail of your life. But gods, how do you explain this without sounding crazy?

  “Do you want me to guess?” Percy continues, shuffling a little closer to you. “'Cause I'm good at that. Especially with you.”

  “Try it.”

  He hums, leaning back. “It definitely has something to do with the wizard boy.”

  Your eyes snap up. “How did you know?”

   “It's always about the wizard boy; you two have been joined at the hip since Chiron declared his residency here.” Again, he hums, continuing his analysis. His sea green eyes are narrowed, his lower lip protruding in a pout. “Did you two get into an argument?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Was he taking his fathers side?”

  “No.”

  “Was he insulting one of us?”

  “...Kind of.”

  Percy raises a brow. “So I'm getting warmer.”

  You sigh, closing your eyes in exasperation. “He thought you and I were a couple.”

 Percy pauses. It's now an awkward pause, especially considering he bursts into laughter not three seconds after. His shoulders jolt, eyes widening as he claps a hand to leg as if to stabalise himself. “You're kidding.”

  “Alright, Seaweed Brain, hands off.” You push him away and fold your arms over your chest. “But yes, he thought you and I were a couple.”

  “And that bothered you so much that you got into an argument with him and now you're huffing?”

   You glare. “You're really enjoying this, huh?”

  Percy nudges your shoulder light-heartedly. “I'm just messing. Tell me what happened.”

  And so, as Percy gets comfortable, you begin your retelling, going into the details about Draco's little tantrum, and your retaliation to said tantrum. Percy interjects with a little “Aww” when you talk about defending him, to which you push his arm to get him to pipe down.

  You feel even worse once the story has been spilled and you are able to see everything in hindsight; should you still be mad? Did Draco deserve that kind of torment?

  Percy is silent for a moment once the story has been told. He looks off into the sea, as if calling to the waves for an answer, a piece of advice he can give you.

  Finally, his wise mind comes up with, “That sounds shitty.”

  “Yeah,” you grumble. “It was.”

  “Sounds like he fancies you.”

  Your cheeks heat up. “I don't think so. Not any more, anyway.”

  “And you're disappointed about that?”

  You shrug, because you really don't know. It would be much less hassle if you weren't disappointed about it, but you can't deny that you don't enjoy the feeling of Draco being mad at you. It feels off. It feels like you've done something wrong, even though you don't think you have.

  “You know,” Percy continues, “I feel a little guilty being the reason you two have fallen out. I wasn't even there and I'm still causing trouble.”

   You scoff. “Yeah. You have a habit of doing that, don't you?”

  “I can't help it.” He leans forward, nudging your arm. “What if I have a little chat with Draco?”

  You perk up, stomach turning at the mere suggestion. “Oh Percy, no. . .”

  “What do you think I'm gonna do?”

  “Bully him. Make him hate me even more.”

  “The fact that that thought bothers you so much just proves to me how much I need to step in and offer my expertise. Annabeth didn't fall in love with me for no reason, and you know that.”

   You open your mouth to object, but the words fall short, because he has a point; out of everyone you've ever known, Percy is the one who has been able to keep up a healthy relationship the longest. He and Annabeth argue like cat and dog, yet they still give off the aura of two young people who are truly in love with another.

  That's rare.

  You slump back against a tree. “Just don't say anything stupid to him. Please.”

  He's already standing up, brushing dirt off the seat of his trousers. “Of course not. Give me ten minutes. I'll have him seeing sense in no time.”    ----

  Draco tries his best to stop the panic.

  It's an old habit, one he hasn't been able to kick. He sees a demigod, and immediately his heart starts beating really fast, and his stomach drops, and his fingers twitch in the direction of his wand. It's a self defence reflex, one that has been built into him from day one, but he's amongst them now, and he needs to stop it.

  But seeing Percy Jackson walking towards him is never going to be a sight he's going to get used to.

  Draco remembers that picture you were colouring in the grass the day previous. You said Percy looked just like his father, and Draco can see the resemblance now. From what little he knows about the true Greek god of the sea, he can tell just where that analysis came from; Percy's black hair, his sea green eyes, even the way he carries himself like he owns the place.

  It screams My dad is a god.

  Draco pulls his shoulders back and gives Percy his best game face, trying desperately to look like he knows what he's doing, like he hasn't been lost in his own thoughts from the moment you looked at him with that anger on your face. He hates that it affected him so much, that he can't get the image out of his head, that he wants nothing more than to storm over to the Hades cabin and apologise for ever upsetting you.

  “Draco, my man!” Percy exclaims, though his heart clearly isn't in it. “How are you? Good?”

  “Fine.”

  Percy clicks his fingers, giving awkward finger guns. “That's good. So good.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around. Then, out of nowhere, he snaps his gaze down to Draco's and says, “So, I've been told there's a bit of trouble in paradise.”

  Draco pauses. “Paradise? I'd hardly call this place paradise, Jackson.”

  Percy raises a brow; it infuriates Draco, who is so used to his comments making people angry. Percy just seems amused. “Your accent really doesn't do my last name justice when you say it like that.”

  Draco scowls. “What do you want from me, Percy? I've got nothing to say to you.”

  “Well, no. You don't. Technically, I have nothing to say to you, either, but I'm a nosy little shit head, so here we are.”

  “What makes you think I'll tell you anything?”

  Percy grins and takes an abrupt seat next to Draco, shoving his shoulder like they've been best friends for years. “If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you what you-” He prods a finger into Draco's chest. “-want to know.”

   Draco's heart hammers. He stares at the grinning demigod, debating whether or not to just jinx him here and now rather than let this absurd conversation go any further.

  But then the options come into his head.

  He has questions about you. Of course he does. You're just. . . a force to be reckoned with. You're such an individual, unlike any Draco has ever encountered in his life, and he wants to know more. Percy could be the key to having those questions answered.

  He coughs into his hand before saying, “I suppose I can talk a little bit.”

  Percy perks up. “Oh, really? Great! So what makes you think Y/N and I are a couple?”

  Draco's cheeks heat up. “Y/N told you about that?”

  “Y/N tells me everything. It's part of the whole being best friends thing.”

  Draco shrugs, awkwardly glancing down at his hands knotted upon his knees. “It was a stupid assumption to make. I know that now. Just. . . at the time, with how close you both are, it seemed the most plausible thing to think.”

  “Well, it was stupid.”

  “Yes-”

 “And did this assumption-” He says this with a snooty British accent that makes Draco glare even harder. “-piss you off?”

  Draco pauses; here is where he could very easily trip up. He needs to choose his words carefully.

  “Yes.”

  Percy tilts his head. “Because you. . . love Y/N?”

  “Love?”

  Percy raises his hands in faux surrender, though there is a grin flashing across his face. “Sorry, sorry. Do you fancy Y/N?”

  Draco swallows the golf ball sized lump in his throat; he wants to die. He literally wants to throw himself into the lake and never resurface. How has Percy managed to butter him up in less than fifteen minutes?

  “I suppose,” Draco mutters. “They are very – um – attractive.”

  “Big brain,” Percy says, nodding. “I get it, man. Smart people are hot.”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, they are also very smart-”

  “And scary.” Percy hollows out his cheeks, shaking his head at nothing. Draco is starting to get annoyed. “Y/N is terrifying, and let me tell you, when a person can intimidate me? Wow. Marry me on the spot, is what I say.”

   “Why don't you just ask Y/N out then?”

  The words come out harsher than Draco planned, but he can't help it. Percy is sat there, basically drooling over you, and it's driving him mad. It's been driving him mad from the instant he got that stupid thought stuck in his brain that maybe – just maybe – you and Percy were something a little more than just the best of friends.

  Percy is grinning, though.

  Draco scowls. “What's so funny?”

  “You really like them, don't you?”

  “I never said-”

  “Personally, I wouldn't touch Y/N with a six foot pole,” Percy continues, which just makes Draco even angrier, and he no longer knows just what he wants. “I'm talking about my girlfriend, Annabeth. The blonde girl. Daughter of Athena.”

  It takes a moment for Draco to remember who Annabeth is. But then it dawns on him, and suddenly everything is making sense.

  His cheeks warm again. “Oh. Right.”

  “Yep. So that's that.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Nah, don't be. It's not me you need to apologise to.”

  Draco bites his lower lip, understanding that Percy is right; he said some awful things, and he put you on the spot when you really didn't deserve it. You were doing nothing more than talking about your best friend, and Draco let his own jealousy push to the forefront.

  He looks over at Percy to see the demigod grinning again, an expression he often seems to have. Draco wonders why you don't like him, why you decided to spend all those hours with him instead of Percy.

  And as if Percy can read his mind, he says, “Y/N likes you too, you know. Like, properly likes you.”

  Draco pushes up from the grass, gives Percy a grateful smile before heading out on his mission – to apologise.

  ----

  You run into Lucius Malfoy shortly after Percy storms off.

  It's quite a chance meeting, though part of you can't help but feel that maybe Lucius had it all planned out from the beginning. He holds himself like a man who knows exactly what he wants, like a man who doesn't understand what a chance meeting is.

  You pause in the grass, watching him wade towards you. In your hand, you hold your sword, but that clearly isn't enough of an intimidation tactic against the tall, pale wizard. He stops only when he's feet in front of you, and with his posh accent, he says, “Y/N.”

  “Mr Malfoy.”

  “Where is Draco?”

  “Beats me. He isn't my son.”

  Lucius's nostrils flare. “Can you put that sword down whilst talking to me, please? It's disrespectful.”

  You look at the celestial bronze blade and tilt it back and forth. The sun hits off the hilt, illuminating the Greek words inscribed upon it. “No. I quite like it in my hand.” You look back at Lucius and smile pleasantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Malfoy? Are you lost?”

  Lucius grits his teeth. Something throbs in his jaw, and honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he were to draw back now and punch you square in the face.

  Or he could just cast a spell, or whatever it is wizards do.

  “You know, Y/N, Draco has told me an awful lot about you,” he growls.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. And quite frankly, the details he has given me only further prove my theory that your kind are just unnatural.”

  He's only trying to wind you up. You keep that in mind as you stand before him, listening to him spew such hatred; you could so easily just chop him to pieces right now. You could end this for everybody, but you think of Draco and how he would react and that thought alone is enough to silence the violent thoughts before you lose grip on your powers.

  “I'm sorry you think that,” you mumble. “Hopefully you'll be out of camp soon enough and won't have to bother with my kind for much longer.”

   Lucius laughs. There's no humour in it. It makes you ill just listening to it. “He told me about your little parlour trick – raising the dead, is it?”

  “Controlling the dead.”

  “That's Dark Magic, dear. That's the devils work if I've ever heard of it.”

  You open your mouth to respond, but the chance is ripped away by the sound of someone else's voice ringing in your ear.

  “I don't really enjoy being called the devil. He and I are two very different legends.”

   You close your eyes. “Dad, go home.”

  He doesn't listen to you. Of course he doesn't. Instead, he steps up to your side and places a warm hand on your shoulder. When you look up, he's smiling at Lucius with the same pleasant smile you gave him only seconds before – the pleasant smile that hides the fact you're on the verge of murdering someone.

  “Is there a problem here?” Hades asks.

  “Who are you?” Lucius demands, and you very nearly laugh at his stupidity.

  Hades actually does laugh at his stupidity as he motions between you. “Surely you notice the family resemblance?”

  Lucius stares, and then it all clicks into place. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open in a look you can only label horror. He stumbles back and says, “Hades?”

  “A god,” you pipe up. “So watch what you say. I can't hold this one back.” You turn to Hades with an exasperated look. “Who let you crawl out of Tartarus again?”

  “Nobody lets me do anything, dear,” Hades replies, keeping his eyes on the horrified Lucius Malfoy. “I just heard what our little friend here was saying to you, and I thought I'd come and put him in his place. Can't have someone insulting my dear child, can I?”

  “You've never intervened before.”

  Hades pushes you backwards, ignoring what you've just said. “So, Lucius; would you like a little duel beforehand, or are you just going to let me end your life, plain and simple?” He pauses, and when Lucius doesn't reply, he adds, “There's no shame in taking the easy way out.”

  “Dad-”

  “Stay out of this, Y/N. This is between me and-”

  “Dad? What's wrong?”

  Your head snaps up. Draco is stumbling down the hill, eyebrows raised as he glances between Hades and his father. Your heart jumps at the sight of him.

  “Draco, pack up your things,” Lucius demands, staring at Hades as if afraid to look away lest your dad make any sudden movements. “We're leaving.”

  “Oh, happy days!” You rush forward and grab your fathers elbow, dragging him back as much as you can. “Did you hear that, Dad? They're leaving!”

  “I'm not going anywhere.”

  You whirl on Draco. “What do you mean you're not going anywhere? Can't you see the predicament we're in right now?”

  Draco raises his brow, clearly still confused as to what the hell he has just walked in on. “Who is this?”

  “This is my dad.”

  Draco's skin pales even more, if that is even possible. Hades turns, gives the young boy a pleasant little wave before he starts rolling up his sleeves, eyeing Lucius up again.

  “Oh, right,” Draco squeaks.

  You turn your attention back to Hades, latching onto his arm yet again. “Come on, Dad. This is pointless. They're leaving camp-”

  “Y/N, I'm not going anywhere before we talk.”

  “Draco, this really isn't the time-”

  “Make up your mind, Lucius. . .” Hades sing-songs. “Quick and easy, or slow and painful? I can do both.”

  Your heart hammers in your chest; this is not how you wanted things to go, not at all. You wish to every other god listening that Draco will just agree to go with his father, that he will leave and never return.

  But you don't really want that, do you?

  “Curse you, Zeus, you mind-reading bitch,” you hiss beneath your breath.

  Draco glances at you. “What?”

  “Never mind.” You grab Draco's shoulders and shove him back. “Just go, Draco, please. My dad is going to-”

  But you never get to tell Draco what your dad is going to do, not before Lucius Malfoy cries out, “Avada Kadavra!”

  You don't understand what's happened; the words just yelled by the Malfoy man are unfamiliar to you, jibberish if you've ever heard it, but Draco cries out and dashes forward. A blinding flash of light slams makes you stumble before Draco's arms wrap around your waist, throwing you to the ground with him hovering over you. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from your own, but neither of you get to bask in each others closeness, because all hell has suddenly broken loose.

  Hades is so powerful. Sometimes you forget that. You've read the stories, and you know he's a god, but sometimes, all he is to you is your annoying dad who shows up every now and then to be annoying, and then he leaves. Sometimes you forget he can literally raise the dead in two point six seconds.

  And judging by the corpses now stumbling around you, that's exactly what he has done.

  “Oh my god,” Draco mumbles.

  You push him away and clamber to your feet. “Dad, stop!”

  The wind is billowing, however, and your words fall on deaf ears. Lucius has fallen to the floor, staring up at your father with a look of pure, unfiltered horror. Hades stands over him, now in full god form, and the sight is breathtaking. He's at his full height now, standing over everyone with his arms outstretched. Dirt billows around him, and a black light emanates from his body, blinding if you weren't his child. Draco has fallen to the floor, covering his head with his arms, and you are so, so happy he has the common sense to look away.

  You stumble forward, latching onto your fathers clothes. “Dad, stop this now! Please!”

  “How dare you?” Hades's voice shakes the trees. His eyes are pitch black. He is a god. “How dare you use your filthy wizard spells against my child?”

  “I'm fine!” you cry. “Dad, I'm fine! Draco saved me! Look!” You helplessly wave your arms over your head. Beside you, a corpse laughs a high pitched laugh. You glare at it and say, “Shut up.”

  The wind only grows stronger as Hades continues to bellow his threats and his curses. Lucius is too stunned to even move. Behind you, Draco cries out your name, tries reaching for your sleeve, but you pull away and continue yelling up at your father, trying to make him see sense.

  “Dad, I'm fine! If you kill him, I'll never forgive you!” You grapple for something else, some other excuse you can use. “I'll – I'll never come back to Camp Half-Blood! I'll stay in the mortal world forever and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it!”

   Hades falters. He glances down at you with those dark, sunken eyes and he says, “You know you're not safe there, Y/N. Don't joke about such things.”

  “Then let him go,” you beg. “Please, Dad. I never ask you for anything, but I'm asking – begging – you for this. Just let him go.”

   Hades tilts his head. “You're standing up for this piece of dirt?”

  “Draco,” you pant, as if that is enough explanation. “Draco just saved my life, Dad. The least you can do is spare his fathers life.”

  The wind dies down. Dirt topples back to the floor. The walking corpses drop to their knees before the soil reaches around them and drags them back into their graves, where hopefully they will remain for another few years. Slowly, your father shrinks back down to his usual five seven stature, his eyes gaining their normal dark colouring again. He continues staring.

  You stare back for only a second before you spin on your heel and march towards Draco. You yank him up by his collar and shove him back, hissing, “Go grab your stuff and get out of here. This is the shit you're gonna get wound up in if you stay. You don't deserve that.”

 Draco, flustered, grabs your shoulders and pushes back, keeping himself rooted to the ground. You want to cry. You need him to leave. You need him to be safe. You can't let him witness something like that ever again.

  “Please, Draco,” you croak out. “Save yourself the bother-”

  “You're crying.”

   You groan, quickly swiping beneath your eyes to rid yourself of the tears you didn't even realise were falling. “No, I'm not.”

   Draco wraps his arms around you and drags you into his shoulder. You don't really know why you melt into him in the way you do; it just kind of happens. Feeling the fabric of his shirt against your cheek, his arms around your shoulders, his body against yours – it's as if all the stresses of the evening flood out of you in a single swoop, replaced by a relief you didn't even know you were in such dire need of.

  It's like Hades and Lucius don't even exist any more. It's just you and Draco, swaying back and forth in the darkness, saying nothing and that being enough.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Not until you know.”

  You pause, but don't pull away. “Until I know what?”

  “That – That you're special.”

  You look up, raising a brow. “Is that a demigod joke?”

  Draco groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. That's not what I meant. I meant – like – you're special to me.”

  “Okay...”

 He squeezes his eyes closed. “What I'm saying is, I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go back to the wizarding world and pretend I never met you. I want this – whatever this is – to last a long, long time.”

  Your heart thunders in your chest. Beneath you, the ground rumbles, like the floor is hungry. “Draco...”

  “I don't care what my father thinks of it,” he says, voice lower now. “I haven't been this happy in forever. I haven't met anyone like you before, and I'm so, so grateful you don't hate me.” He blinks. “Percy told me that, by the way – that you don't hate me. He wasn't lying, was he?”

  You laugh. “No, he wasn't lying.”

  “Oh, great.” He pulls you closer. “So, as I was saying-”

  “Oh, for the love of me!” Hades claps his hands impatiently. “Just kiss them already, you idiot! Why do mortals take so long to get to the point?”

  Draco looks over your shoulder, face going red. “Are you giving me permission to kiss Y/N?”

  Hades rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Just get on with it. I'm ageing.”

  “You're immortal, old man.”

  “Watch your mouth, little one, or you're grounded.”

  Your laugh is broken by Draco's kiss.

  In the background, Lucius yells in frustration, but he quietens as soon as he looks at Hades. You don't even care, though, because once again, it's like neither of them are really there. It's just you and Draco. There is no world separating you, there is no problems, you are the same. His hands trail along your jawline before crawling over the back of your neck, holding you in place, as if you would ever willingly pull away.

  Beneath you, the ground continues to growl. You imagine it's the dead people giving you a round of applause.

---

“Lumos.”

  You crack an eye open. Beside you, Draco shifts, lifting the covers further over his head. Through the thin material of the quilt, you can make out a dim yellow glow coming from Draco's wand.

  You roll onto your back, nudging his arm with your elbow. He pauses, taking a few seconds before he pulls the covers back down, revealing his messy bed head and bare torso. He gives you a grin and says, “What are you doing awake?”

   “You woke me,” you reply, before nodding towards the book resting on his lap. “What's that?”

  “Oh, this? Nothing. Just a little book I picked up from the library the last time I was at Hogwarts.”

  You raise a brow; you haven't seen Draco casually read in quite a while. Any time he has his head stuck in a book, it's usually to learn some new potion, or some new spell that he can show the harpies to impress them when they ask for a magic show. However, looking down at the book currently perched on his knees, you can see this isn't just some simple recipe book for wizards – the pages are filled with text, with very little pictures to accompany them.

  “Can I read it with you?” you ask.

  Draco's cheeks light up. “Maybe you should just go back to sleep. It's pretty late-”

  He goes quiet when you rest your drowsy head on his chest, tugging the quilt up to your chin. You hear him sigh, a noise of content before he looks down at the page and places his wand beneath the words. In bold at the top is the title Hades and Persephone.

  “Oh, my mum hated her,” you say.

  Draco chuckles. “I can imagine.”

   You trace your eyes over the words. You can't really make them out with your dyslexia, but Draco reads them for you, because he knows. He reads the story of your father and his true wife, pausing to ask you your opinions, or if you know anything about any of it. You tell him you don't, but you want him to keep reading, so he does, and together you learn about your father and his ways.

  Finally, when Draco reaches the end of that particular story, you look up at him and say, “Why are you reading this?”

   He shrugs. You don't buy it, though, and continue waiting for his response. He rolls his eyes at your patient silence and says, “Remember when you asked me if I'd ever read any of the Greek myths?”

  You raise a brow. “Yes...”

  “I hadn't read any of them. But I realised it's kind of part of your history, isn't it? These myths, the people and things you talk about. If I really want to understand you, I have to get familiar with a few of these terms, don't I?”

   A lump forms in your throat. “You're reading these for me?”

  “Of course.” He slams the book closed and says, “Quiz me. I can tell you who Demeter is right now.”

  You stare at him a moment longer, overwhelmed beyond words. Instead of giving Draco a pop quiz on all things Greece, you reach up and press your lips to his own, whispering the unknown words of “I love you,” against his mouth.

  Draco chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you, too.”

[echo-bleu]

all this time I had feathers

This is a fill for my @shadowhunterbingo square Christmas Fic. It's part of my map out a world series (with autistic Alec), but it should stand on its own. I only remembered I had a Christmas square on my Bingo yesterday, so this is written in two days and unbetaed!

Our boys run into some competing access needs over Christmas. I've given hints that Magnus has ADHD in this series and it's still not really explicit here, but I will write a fic more focused on that at some point.

The title is from a truly beautiful theater play that's unfortunately only available in French, Plume by Alistair Houdayer. The play uses a bird as a metaphor for autism and the full sentence is "All this time I had feathers and you lied to me?" (translation is my own). It's about discovering that you're autistic after years of being shut down and ignored.

Read on AO3.

-

Alec sighs internally as he opens the door to the loft and hears music. It’s been like this for days and he can’t take it anymore. Magnus has been hanging lights everywhere and blasting Christmas songs at every chance, and Alec’s headache hasn’t left him for days. Thankfully Christmas is tomorrow, so maybe it will stop afterwards.

Although that might be too optimistic. Alec has never really done anything for Christmas before, beside a quiet exchange of presents with his siblings, but he knows the decorations in shops don’t go anywhere until the new year. That’s one week away. He’s not sure he can do this without blowing up again.

He takes a deep breath. The last time he was here, this morning before his shift, Catarina and Madzie had dropped by to bake cookies with Magnus and Alec barely managed to contain himself until they left, exploding as soon as he and Magnus were alone. He said things he didn’t mean, and things he definitely didn’t mean to say in anger. He doesn’t even know where all that rage comes from – it’s just a deep, twisted feeling inside, his skin crawling until he can’t take anymore of the twinkling lights and the cheesy songs.

He stormed out and he and Magnus haven’t talked since, not even by text.

“Alexander,” Magnus says coolly when Alec finds him in the apothecary, bent over a potion of some sort. The smell coming from it is horrendously strong, though not bad per say. It smells like mint and maybe cinnamon – not that Alec is very good at identifying scents, but they’re ones that he usually likes.

“I’m sorry,” Alec forces out, even if the irritation is rising in his chest again. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t know what came over me.”

Magnus looks at him for a moment. “I have to admit I didn’t expect to spend most of Christmas Eve wondering why we’re even fighting,” he says slowly. “But you were obviously angry, and it can’t have been because of the flour all over the kitchen, since I cleaned that up straight away. Can we sit and talk about it calmly?”

Alec nods, breathing through his nose to avoid the now overwhelming smell of mint. “Are you nearly done with this?”

“Oh, yes, I’ll just bottle it up and then I can join you. Make yourself comfortable wherever you want.”

Alec breathes in relief that Magnus isn’t so angry that he’ll ignore their comfort for the sake of arguing. But it makes what he’s about to ask all the harder.

“Would you please turn the music off?” he asks as neutrally as possible. He knows it comes out monotonous and emotionless, and he sees Magnus tense at it.

But contrary to the expected retort, Magnus looks up and assesses him for a moment before he sighs.

“Oh, Alexander,” he murmurs, and the music stops. “Go. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Alec nods and turns on his heels. The sudden quiet in the loft feels like heaven, although he can’t look anywhere without being assaulted by bright and colorful Christmas lights. In the living room, he freezes for at least a whole minute, trying to decide between the comfort of the couch and the table where there are slightly few visible light garlands if he sits facing the windows. The choice feels too hard to make right now and—

Alec makes himself move and goes for the bedroom instead. Magnus said wherever he wants. They usually avoid having fights in the bedroom to keep it a sanctuary of sorts, but maybe this is a needed exception.

He flops down on the bed, looking in dismay at the fairy light garlands hung all around the room. He doesn’t hate fairy lights, he’s the first to admit that they’re pretty – when used with some semblance of moderation. Not when they cover every square inch of the walls. He sighs and closes his eyes, slipping under the covers despite the fact that he’s fully dressed. The weighted blanket immediately grounds him.

He hasn’t slept properly in a while. Maybe that’s what’s making him grumpy. There’s been a surge of demon activity in the city, on top of all the Clave ceremonies he has to attend this time of the year. That means he’s been on call or in Alicante almost every night, and sleeping during the day with this damn music on is near impossible.

When Magnus finally joins him, he’s nearly asleep. He presses his fists into his eyes, trying to force the tiredness out of his head. Magnus doesn’t say anything as he removes his jacket and slips into bed beside him. He still smells faintly of mint and cinnamon.

“Darling,” he says softly after a moment. He reaches out, but he doesn’t touch Alec, settling his hand an inch away from Alec’s arm.

Alec tries to make himself cross the gap between them, but it feels too big right now, his skin still crawling. He makes an aborted motion of apology.

Magnus picks up one of the long golden necklaces he’s wearing and offers it to Alec, without removing it. It has a pendant at the end, tiny intertwined circles that can spin around each other. Alec latches onto it without even thinking about it, finding comfort in both the stimming and the connection to Magnus.

“Can you speak?” Magnus asks. He soft, gentle. Not angry. Alec doesn’t understand – he deserves all of Magnus’ anger and more.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. He’s not sure he can hold a long conversation, but here under the covers, the lights hidden by the blankets, he feels better, like a fog is lifting from his mind.

Magnus taps the mattress with a finger by Alec’s head. “Have you been overloaded this whole time?”

“I’m not—” Alec starts immediately, but he stops mid-sentence.

Oh.

That’s what it is. The irrational anger, the constant irritation, his inability to focus. His speech has been as unreliable as his sleeping pattern, but he’s long learned to make do with groans and looks. The constant buzzing in his brain, the exhaustion that only he seems to feel…

“I don’t know,” he amends. “Maybe?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Alec bites his lip, focusing on the necklace he’s fidgeting with rather than on Magnus. “I didn’t realize,” he says.

“Was it just the music?” Magnus asks, unclasping his bike chain bracelet to match his fidgeting. Alec shifts his stare from his own hands to Magnus’, the repetitive movement soothing.

He tries to think about the question, to push it through his mushy brain and figure out an answer. He really is tired, in that way that doesn’t make him want to sleep so much as hide in a quiet corner. He knows that he’s taking too long to answer, but Magnus waits patiently.

“The music...the lights, too. Everything’s too bright. And...too many people.” They’ve had someone over nearly every day, wether it’s Cat and Madzie or Dot or Raphael or Clary and Simon, and occasionally Magnus’ other Downworlder friends Alec has never met before. After whole shifts at the Institute, coordinating patrols and trying to stay on top of things, or fighting demons in back alleys, all he wants is some quiet and peace.

“Alexander,” Magnus buries his face in the mattress. “I’ve been overloading you this whole time and I didn’t even notice.” He turns back toward Alec, his voice no longer muted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says. “You didn’t know.”

“I did not, but you still deserve an apology. How did we let get so far?”

“I—” Alec hesitates. “You seemed happy.”

Magnus shakes his head. “My happiness cannot come at the price of yours. I want you to tell me when it gets too much. When I get too much.”

Alec catches Magnus’ wrist in his hand, intent overwhelming his touch-avoidance. “No. It’s not you. You’re never too much for me, Magnus.”

They’ve only spoken a few times about Magnus’ history with that phrase, about his own difference, his own deviations from the norm, but Alec knows it’s something deeply ingrained. Magnus has been told he’s too much too often in his life, and Alec will not let him belittle himself that way. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realized it myself,” he says. “It’s like...background noise. After a while, you can tune it out and you don’t even hear it anymore, but it’s still draining.”

“But why would you tune it out, instead of just telling me to stop it?” Magnus asks, not moving his hand from Alec’s grasp. Alec releases him and intertwines their hands instead.

“I didn’t...think of it,” he tries. It’s not true, not entirely. He didn’t ask, because Magnus liked it. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want to be a killjoy, as his siblings have too often accused him of being. He didn’t want to take this little bit of happiness away from Magnus because he’s an oversensitive simp.

He doesn’t voice that thought, because he knows what Magnus would think of it. And he supposes that’s progress, in a way.

Magnus understands anyway. “You’ve been so used to your perceptions being ignored that you don’t know how to set boundaries,” he says slowly. “Am I wrong?”

Alec shrugs with the one shoulder that’s not against the bed.

“You like the lights, and the music,” he says. “And the baking, all the Christmas stuff.”

“I do. But we could have found a middle ground. You can’t sacrifice your comfort for mine.”

Alec bites back that it’s what he’s always done. It’s not true. It used to be, maybe, with his family, but with Magnus, he’s never had to do that. Magnus is always so attentive, anticipating his needs before he can even ask.

So the least Alec could do is let him have this.

“Why do you like Christmas so much?” he asks softly, rather than dig further into it.

“It’s not really Christmas,” Magnus confesses. “I’m not religious, and I don’t care much about the meaning of it all. But it gives me an excuse.”

He pauses, and Alec simply waits, nodding encouragingly.

“I often get...sad, in the winter,” Magnus continues. “I don’t know if it’s what the mundanes call seasonal depression, or if it’s because I’ve lived so long and lost so many people during the winter months, but this time of the year is always hard for me. So I do everything to try and cheer myself up. I usually throw parties almost every night, just to surround myself with living, breathing people – and vampires, who thrive on the longest nights of the year.”

“You haven’t thrown many parties this year,” Alec remarks.

“No, I know you don’t like them and I didn’t want you to feel excluded—”

Alec tenses. “You shouldn’t stop for my sake! Did I prevent you from doing something that helps you?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Only in the same way that I forced you to bear things that were too much for you. We neglected to talk about it when we should have.”

Alec sighs and curls up on himself a little more.

“Besides,” Magnus adds, “This year, I have you. My very own living, breathing Nephilim to keep me warm. I’m better than I’ve been every other year. I just...I got scared that it would happen again, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. So I went a little overboard with the Christmas cheer.”

“A little?” Alec gives a small laugh.

“Okay, a lot. You told me you’ve never properly celebrated Christmas before, so I wanted to give you the full experience, and keep myself busy in the process. I never stopped to think about how it could affect you. I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Alec murmurs.

“Whatever for?”

“The...communication failure? I’m trying, but it’s not...easy.”

Magnus smiles softly, running his thumb over the back of Alec’s hand. “And that’s okay. As long as we’re trying. We just need to check in a little more often.”

“Okay,” Alec nods weakly. “We can try that.”

“No more music,” Magnus says. “I’ll dim all the lights.”

“Music is fine if it’s low,” Alec corrects. “And maybe not when I’m trying to sleep.”

Magnus closes his eyes in dismay. “I’m—”

“Stop apologizing,” Alec interrupts him. “Been there, done that. Let’s move on. I promise I’ll try to tell you if it gets too much again.”

“Okay. What do you want to do now?”

Alec thinks about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. He still feels slow and his head aches, though the worst is passing.

“Can I hold you?” Magnus asks.

Alec opens his mouth to say yes, but he’s not ready yet. He gives Magnus an apologizing look and a tiny shake of his head.

“I think I need to clear my head,” he says slowly. “Just...think. It’s not against you at all, I just need to be in my own mind for a bit.” He needs to center himself. He feels scattered, like he’s been open and exposed to the elements and he needs to just be himself again.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Magnus starts to rise.

“No!” Alec stops him. “I’ll go. Walking will help. I’ll be back soon, promise.”

He jumps to his feet, eager to go now that he’s made the decision. He forces himself to check that Magnus doesn’t seem too worried or angry, but Magnus simply nods, looking a little surprised but not overly concerned.

“I’ll be here,” he says simply.

*

When Alec walks back into the loft two hours later, he does it with a measure of apprehension. He feels better, but he’s not sure what to expect.

There is music coming from inside, but it’s different. It’s not a cheesy Christmas song, and not even one of the classical pieces Magnus tried that Alec enjoyed marginally better. It’s something modern but also slow, quiet even though it permeates the entire loft. It’s soothing.

The lights are out. That’s the first thing Alec notices, because everything has been so bright for so long. He thinks for a moment that maybe Magnus went out, went to celebrate with friends who actually enjoy the holiday. He feels a pang on guilt at that – okay, a whole bucket of guilt. He’s been a grinch, and he knows it. But he couldn’t think with all those lights and noises.

The only light on is a fairy light garland that’s magically running in a single thread over all the walls in the loft, casting a soft light without actually being bright. The rooms themselves are plunged in darkness, and Alec toes off his shoes and lets his coat and scarf fall to the floor and he pads over to the living room by feel, relishing the lack of pain assaulting his eyes.

The music is louder in the living room, but not so much that it’s painful. Alec blinks twice as he takes in the sight in front of him.

In the middle of the dark room is Magnus. He’s wearing nothing but a dark leotard, and his skin is lit by swirling strands of while magic, curling around his arms. He’s dancing.

Alec doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath.

Magnus’ face is briefly illuminated by his magic, his eyes closed and a small smile on his face. He hasn’t heard Alec come in. He seems to have banished all the furniture in the room, and he’s spinning on one foot, en pointe in ballet shoes. Small bursts of magic come out of his hands as the song picks up, swirling through the room like a wispy light whip.

Magnus starts moving faster, the ribbons of light following him. Alec knows very little about dance, but even he can tell that Magnus’ style is unique, not solely ballet but also not quite modern dance. Alec almost gasps as he does what he can only describe as a back flip and lands smoothly on his feet, spinning once more.

It’s an incredibly beautiful sight. Alec stands at the door, transfixed, until the song ends and Magnus ends the dance by lowering himself down to the floor, crossing his legs under him. The light around his body dims progressively – no, that’s not it. It seems to sink under his skin, until his whole body looks like it’s glowing. Magnus gracefully runs his hand down his arm, guiding the light inside him until it reaches the tip of his fingers and explodes in a shower of sparkles.

When everything quiets, Alec lets out the breath he’s been holding. It feels like he should applaud, but he’s loath to break the silence. Besides, he doesn’t know if Magnus would take it well, right now.

“Did you enjoy the show?” Magnus whispers, his eyes still closed.

So he did notice Alec come in.

“Magnus, it was incredible,” Alec murmurs, letting the quiet carry his voice.

Magnus opens his eyes and looks at him. They stay still for a moment, the dark room between them, eyes easy to meet in the shadows. “I like the lights and the sounds, but they’re just filling a void,” Magnus says in a soft voice. “I was trying too hard.”

“It’s okay if you need them,” Alec says. “We can find a way to meet in the middle.”

“But I don’t. I wanted to feel warm and safe, but I didn’t realize that I’ve never felt as warm and safe as when I’m with you.”

Alec smiles, the words seeping into him with their own warmth, after the cold of the streets.

“Dancing makes me feel alive,” Magnus continues. “And I’d forgotten that, too.”

“You were beautiful.”

Magnus stands up smoothly and extends a hand. “Do you want to join?”

“I don’t dance,” Alec says.

“Just let go and only look at me. My magic will help you.”

Alec tries to match Magnus’ light steps as he walks toward him. He feels a jolt when they link hands, almost like the first time, over that summoning pentagram. Magnus pulls on his arm and Alec lets go of his control, relinquishing himself to the light touches of magic he can feel over his skin.

The music starts again. Light ribbons swirl over them both as they spin together. Magnus jumps to his pointes and spins around in Alec’s arms, and their height suddenly match. The only light is the magic twirling around their limbs, immaterial and teasing. Magnus grips Alec’s forearm and lifts himself effortlessly off the ground, spinning around Alec’s body until he’s in his arms again, his back arched.

The light dims to almost nothing, sinking into their chest. Their mouths meet.

“Thank you, Alexander,” Magnus murmurs.

Alec kisses him again.

-

I'm working on an illustration of the dance scene but I wanted to post the fic tonight while it's still Christmas!

Maybe it shows that I've been watching Tiny Pretty Things. The show is kinda terrible but I love watching people dance.

Magnus here is technically dancing the part of a woman, which is why I've use the GNC Magnus and Nonbinary Magnus (as he's nonbinary in this series). Pointe shows are also traditionally worn only by women. In my mind, Magnus trained for both roles at different times in his life and he's fine with dancing either part.

[themangledsans0508]

Grasping at Control

Allie can suck my wee if she’s reading this you bitch.

TW: Self-Harm

Tweek Tweak considered himself the most fucked-up person in the entirety of South Park, which was quite an achievement considering he went to school with actual sociopaths, murderers, and drug dealers.

Yet here he was, a cocktail of addiction, anxiety, ADHD, and depression. He felt pretty alone, despite all the years he had to make friends and come to terms with himself. One of two kids out as gay, and very few adults in their town understanding, much less out themselves; he had no one to talk to. 

Just thinking about it made him want to curl up into a ball and suffocate.

And he tried.

He wrapped himself up in blankets and cried.

He cried for what felt like ages before he got sick of feeling miserable from the stale air that had just enough oxygen in it to keep him alive. 

He crawled out and sat, shaking violently. Why did he want this to happen? Why didn’t he want to be alive?

Mr Mackey had lectured them many, many times on what to do if you or someone you knew felt like they wanted to kill themselves, and Tweek wouldn’t hesitate to act if someone else felt the same way he did.

So why didn’t he care about himself?

He thought back to fourth grade when Kim Jong Un marked him as a possible target if war were to break out and Craig brought him to an amusement park.

“Well, I’m sorry that I’m actually in control of my goddamn emotions, you baby!”

That exchange had only been a minute long, but Tweek had never forgotten it. Craig was right, he wasn’t in control of his emotions. For fuck’s sake, he wasn’t even in control of his movements.

He wasn’t in control of anything. He snapped back to the present from the pain of his hair being torn out by himself, and he tried to stop himself.

His movements were involuntary, even when putting his force against them he couldn’t stop himself.

He screamed in frustration. He didn’t care if anyone heard him, because he knew from experience that nobody would do anything even if he was being murdered. His own parents didn’t care for him. The only reason his dad kept him was because having a kid helped his coffee shop.  As he got older, his dad also got free labour out of him as the form of “chores.”

His hands flew from his hair to his arms, tearing up his skin to the point he bled. He looked down to see the mess and rushed to the bathroom to prevent his room from turning into a crime scene.

He stared at himself in the mirror. Small patches of hair missing from his scalp, large bags under his eyes that served to highlight the tears running down his face. There were scratches down his cheeks from his nails dragging down his face and when he raised his hand to feel them, his arms showed a nightmare of red lines intersecting so much that they looked like a terrible map. 

He reached for the bandages under the counter and felt a flash of pain from a tear dropping onto an open wound on his arm. He bit back a yelp of pain and a horrible idea came to him. He reached for a razor in the cabinet.

Maybe there was something he could control.

~

Craig Tucker liked to call himself a “good boyfriend.”

Sure, he wasn’t perfect, nobody was. He still had spats with his lover just as everyone else did. However, as they aged and matured, those spats stopped being physical very quickly as they aged and by eleven they were purely verbal. 

They didn’t have them frequently either, and they didn’t last very long. 

So, as a good boyfriend would be, he was concerned when Tweek didn’t come to school. He tried texting him, then calling him to no avail. He didn’t like that, Tweek would usually tell him if he was sick, or pick up the phone when Craig called. 

“Craig, dude,” Token said, “maybe he’s asleep or something.” 

“He doesn’t sleep Token. He breathes coffee,” Craig sighed.

“Okay, maybe he left his phone somewhere,” Clyde offered. Craig nodded.

“Probably.” Craig could hear the static noise of his friends talking about girls, football, or other things he would usually be amused by.

Concerned was not something that people would normally think Craig Tucker was capable of being. Once upon a time, they were probably right. Tweek taught him how to comprehend emotions instead of pretending they didn’t exist, even if he still preferred not to express them.

Tweek brought out the best in him. Craig helped him find his center. They balanced each other out pretty well. 

Craig would be lying, however, if he said he didn’t keep secrets from Tweek. His secrets weren’t anything terrible like he murdered someone or he was cheating on Tweek, but that he had anxiety himself.

He never told Tweek because he decided early on he could deal with it himself. He was constantly worried that something would happen to Tweek or any of his other friends. With the town that they lived in and the fact that he had actually been kidnapped and dragged to Peru once, he felt those fears were justified.  

While he would never claim his anxiety was as bad or even worse than Tweek’s, it had given him his fair share of sleepless nights and long days.

Situations like this had happened a few times before and never failed to set off his anxiety.

Perhaps his friends were onto his lies, or maybe they could simply tell that this was bothering him more than he would let on, but they gave him some space.

He appreciated that.

~

Tweek sat on his bed, staring at his arm. His room was littered with lego bricks, empty coffee cups, and bandage wrappers.

While he was in general rather prone to accidentally hurting himself,  the sheer amount of fresh wounds dancing down his arms exposed what actually occurred.

He couldn’t risk anyone finding out about it, especially Craig. 

He loved Craig too much for him to have the burden of this on his shoulders. He couldn’t imagine what he would say when he found out.

If he found out.

Tweek had no intention of telling him, and he wouldn’t let him see either. 

But he couldn’t skip school forever. 

He sighed in frustration. He didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger, sadness, frustration, regret, or maybe a mix of it all.

He felt lost

~

Craig inserted his copy of Tweek’s house key into the lock.

They both had a key to each other’s house, and they had for a long time. Since they began dating to be exact. They respected each other’s privacy though, and if Tweek told him to leave, he would. 

He opened the door and poked his head in. The house was dark, which didn’t really surprise him since both the matriarch and the patriarch of the family were working in the coffee shop.

“Tweek? Are you in here?” he called

The house was still, yet Craig went in anyways. He shut the door behind him and flicked on the light. There was no one downstairs, so he swiftly moved to the second floor and approached Tweek’s room. He knocked on the door gently.

“Tweek?” Craig listened for a response. He heard nothing but quiet breathing on the other side. “Tweek, is it alright if I come in?”

The boy on the other side remained silent.

“Tweek?” 

“Go away, Craig.” His voice was sad and quiet, and the promise Craig had made got lost in the wind.

“What’s wrong Tweek?” Craig couldn’t stop the worry from flowing out in his voice, even though he tried.

“I’m sick Craig. Just go away. I don’t want to see you right now.” Tweek’s voice shook as he spoke, along with small jitters and whimpers. Craig could sense something was wrong and turned the doorknob.

He gently pushed against the door and to his surprise, it didn’t open. There was a weight against the door. It wasn’t heavy, well he wasn’t heavy. Craig knew exactly who was against the door. Tweek was never heavy, not even when they were little. He had gotten scrawnier and scrawnier as they aged since sometimes his anxiety made him just not be hungry, or even scared to eat. He would also forget, or be full from drinking so much coffee even though he drank far less than he used to. 

Craig stopped pushing and heard the door quickly snap back into its place with a click. He wasn’t going to force the door open and possibly hurt Tweek, he wouldn’t risk that.

“Craig, please. Just-” he heard his voice break, “Please.” His voice broke, along with Craig’s last straw. 

He silently went back down the stairs and out the house, turning to look up at Tweek’s window. The shades were drawn and the room behind them was dark. 

Craig turned to look at the twin pines that grew next to the house. They had been there for longer than either boy had been alive, and had grown past the height of the window.

He walked over to the lush green plant and grabbed a hold of it’s lower branches, hoisting himself up. He repeated the movement multiple times until he was at the tip of the tree. The entire tip shuddered with his every breath and threatened to snap with his every movement. 

The tree leaned over slightly, allowing Craig to reach over and tap the window. It flew open and Tweek pulled open that shade.

“Craig! What the hell are you doing?”

“Hanging out. Can I come in?”

Tweek cursed under his breath and reached his hands out. Craig accepted them and jumped into the window, cutting his legs on the branches of the tree. He tumbled through the window, landing on top of Tweek with an “oof.” He felt the stinging in his leg and light wetness and realised trying to climb into a window from a pine tree was a terrible idea.

“Tweek-”

“Craig, what the fuck?” Tweek panted. “Why did you fucking do that?”

Craig looked at the blonde boy underneath him. He was skin and bones, the bags under his eyes were huge. His face was tear-stained and scratched. 

“Tweek, I know something’s wrong.” Craig pushed himself off Tweek and offered to help him up. Tweek simply stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“You’re an idiot, Craig. Why don’t you ever just listen to me?”

Tweek let out a quiet sob and looked up at Craig. 

“Craig, I’m a mess. What the hell do you want from me?” Craig lowered himself down to the floor and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Tweek, I want to know what’s wrong. We have to work together through these things, remember? Beat them together, expectations, resentment, all of it.” Tweek pushed Craig’s hand off him and jumped up.

“You want to know what’s wrong? What’s wrong is the fact that no matter what I do, I have no control over my life! Something that only I should control! Me and me alone! Everyone else controls it! I never became a knight or a queen, I’m still just a pawn in someone else’s fucking game! And guess what, pawns are expendable! I’m expendable. I’m not needed. That’s what’s wrong! I’m only a fucking tool for the entire world to use.” 

Tweek waved his hands, exasperated. His voice shuddered with every word he said, tears ran down his cheeks. He twitched and whimpered every few seconds. His hands tore across his body, flying from his arms to his shirt to his hair.

Craig stepped forward and embraced him. He pulled him tight against his body and felt him tense up and wince slightly. Tweek pushed against him slightly in a poor attempt to break free of his grip, before he simply caved in and buried his face into Craig’s shoulder. 

“I-I’m just replaceable Craig. My parents didn’t have to sell me into slavery because I’m already a slave to them. They control me, Craig.” 

“What can we do about that, Tweek? There has to be something.” Craig tangled one of his hands in Tweek’s hair and had the other one rub circles into his back. His voice was not sarcastic or mocking, but gentle and genuine.

“I don’t know Craig. I’ve tried so many things, so many things. Nothing works, Craig. Nothing.”

“Let’s try something else then. Something together. You don’t have to do this alone, Tweek.” Craig lowered them down to the floor, sitting with his legs crossed and Tweek in his lap. “We can run away together. Get our own house.”

“We can’t do that. Your sister needs you. She’s only thirteen.” 

“Fine. I’ll take you home with me then. You can live in my room.” Tweek shook his head.

“No, no. All these things put stress on you too. I want to deal with it myself,” he scolded. Craig sighed.

“I won’t let you do that. The whole point of a relationship is to deal with things together. If I can’t help you directly, then I want to be able to at least support you.”

“Where were you when I needed you? Why aren’t you ever here when I need you?” Tweek pushed himself out of Craig’s grip and stood up. “Why the fuck does everything go the shit when I’m not with you?” He shouted.

“What do you mean Tweek?” Craig slowly stood up and put his hands into his pockets.

“I mean why am I even more of a fucking mess without you?” Tweek’s hands flew up to his hair, causing his sleeves to slip down. 

Craig didn’t miss the small movement, he had become very perceptive since they had started dating. He noticed the red lines and scabs weaving down his arms. He reached his hand over to intertwine their fingers and grab his attention.

“Tweek, what happened to your arms?”

“Huh?” Tweek looked down to the subject of Craig’s curiosity. When he realised what it was he attempted to pull himself out of Craig’s grip. “It’s nothing! I just fell!” 

Craig’s grip strengthened just enough to keep a hold on Tweek but not enough to hurt him.

“Tweek, those weren’t from a fall.” Craig locked his own green eyes with Tweek’s blue ones. “Tell me the truth, Tweek. What are they from.” 

“What the fuck do you think they are from? You aren’t dumb,” he snapped. Craig lurched forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Tweek. He pressed his full weight into him. For the first time in perhaps ever, he had no control over himself.

They toppled backwards onto Tweek’s bed. Craig manoeuvred them so they weren’t at risk of falling off the bed and rested his head so his ear was directly above Tweek’s heart.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“What were you thinking?” Craig’s voice was different. It wasn’t monotone or bland, it was raw and emotional and occasionally breaking. “Why would you do that?”

“I was in control. I knew what I was doing. Nobody was in charge of me.”

“Yeah, well, you could have fucking died! Those could have gotten infected. They could have gone too deep and cut a vein! Is a brief relief really worth that risk?” Craig let out a quiet sob and gripped Tweek’s shirt.

Everything hit Tweek suddenly. He wiggled out from under Craig to lay beside him instead. He placed his hands on his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together.

“Hey, hey, I know it was stupid, okay? I’m not going to do it again.” Tweek whispered.

“You better not,” Craig muttered.

“And if I’m feeling like shit,” Tweek continued, “I’ll call you or text you to come over.”

“Or you can come over to my place,” Craig countered.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Craig rolled Tweek over and pulled him against his body. He moved his arms from his shirt to his waist and pulled him down so he could rest his chin on his head.

“Well, I’m tired,” he yawned. “Text my mom and tell her I’m staying here tonight.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Tweek asked.

“Well, because I’m about to take a nap.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yep.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Tweek said, “I have stuff I need to do.”

“Not anymore you don’t” Craig grumbled. “All you need to do is stay right here. I’m not moving until it’s time for school.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Well, we’ll have a terrible marriage then.”

There's gonna be a part two the angst isn't over my dears

[side-effect-of-the-meds]

Hey! There's this hc that's been on my mind for a while now but it's a bit dark so I've kinda been scared to ask people about it because IDK how it'd go down.... Okay, it's AFTG, and: What if after Aaron's trial with the whole Thanksgiving thingy they propose Aaron should be on mood altering drugs? What would happen? What would people do?? Also I know there are some fanpeople that don't like how Andrew's medication was represented in the books so I completely understand if you'd rather not reply

I’m sorry this took so long and I’m sorry for my recent inactivity. I’m still not ready to come back from my surprise hiatus but here’s this. It’s largely unedited so please forgive my bullshit. Thanks so much for the ask, love <3

“Aaron Minyard was oft-referred to as "the normal one" of the two, though that was usually followed by a debate over whether or not he could be sane when he shared genes with Andrew.”

Anyone with half a brain knows that Aaron doesn’t need the drugs. Hell, anyone with half a brain would have known better than to put a minor on something so strong but Andrew was on them for like 4 yrs + Exy is a thing so obviously no one in this universe has a single functioning brain cell. Another thing to be considered is that Aaron is a rehabilitated drug addict. He’s been sober (or as close to sober as he’s going to get) since he was 16. In the real world, I seriously doubt they’d put him on anti-psychotics, especially considering his past. But this is The Foxhole Court and I’m invoking suspension of disbelief. 

Screams reverberated through Aaron’s head. There weren’t many words Aaron could discern amid the broken sobs and dry heaving. The overwhelming stench of vomit hit his nostrils. Pain shot through his left arm. It was likely dislocated from ramming it into the door at an odd angle. Staggering to his feet, Aaron saw himself in the mirror. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes. A cruel smile slowly curled the lips of his reflection. Andrew. Swinging a punch at him with his good hand, the mirror shattered. Shards of glass embedded themselves into his fist. Blood ran in rivers down his arms. 

His surroundings distorted, exchanging the soft glow of yellow bulbs for the harsh glow of fluorescents. The blood was gone along with the mirror shards. In their place was a motley of scars. None of them seemed too severe. The acrid smell of smoke clung to the air and mixed with the alcohol and vomit, making Aaron’s stomach roil. The sound of someone retching caught Aaron’s attention. Whirling around, Aaron felt his heart stutter. Matt lay twitching on the floor in a pool of his own spew.

“That’s what you looked like,” Andrew said from beside Aaron. “Pathetic.” The word echoed through Aaron’s head. 

“Aaron?” Nicky said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Aaron jerked away from him as though he’d been burned. Nicky’s face crumpled. Aaron’s gaze darted around the room.Taking stock of his surroundings helped ground him. Overstuffed chairs lined one of the walls. Three sofas boxed off the corner they were sat in. Orange fox prints decorated the white walls, a name, number, and photograph at the center of each. Aaron was back at the Foxhole Court. 

“I told you not to touch him.” Andrew’s voice froze the blood in Aaron’s veins. Stalking forward from the corner he’d been standing in, he moved to stand in front of Aaron. Cold brown eyes identical to Aaron’s own now held his gaze. Aaron wanted to look away but, as always, there was something about his brother’s eyes that never failed to command his attention. 

“How’s he going to play if he’s medicated?” Kevin asked. Aaron felt his heart sink. After spending two years with him, Aaron should have known better than to expect Kevin to care about anything other than Exy but he couldn’t help it. Just as he’d begun to think that the last few months had meant something, Kevin squashed the tiny bud of hope that had blossomed in Aaron’s heart.  

“How are you going to play if I break your other arm?” Andrew snarled. Aaron watched the color drain from Kevin’s face. A part of him wanted to smirk in Kevin’s face. It served the asshole right. All Kevin ever thought about was Exy. Exy and himself. Half of the things the foxes had been through could have been avoided had it not been for Kevin. They wouldn’t have suffered the graffiti attacks nor would they have been constantly dogged by the media. They sure as shit wouldn’t have had Neil and the mafia to contend with had Kevin not been such a selfish asshole, insisting on dragging that good-for-nothing junkie out of the middle of bumfuck Arizona. 

A larger part of Aaron wanted to cradle Kevin in his arms and protect him from Andrew’s wrath. Had Kevin not run, Aaron would never have had the chance to feel the press of Kevin’s vodka drenched lips on his. He definitely wouldn’t have had the chance to hear the soft keening moans that fell from Kevin’s lips when Aaron fucked into him. Worst of all, there would be no soft smiles or lazy kisses before Kevin drifted off to sleep.  

“Andrew,” Neil’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Well, not really. Neil’s voice was always gentle when he spoke to Andrew. Gentle and tender and full of love. Aaron couldn’t help but notice the way his brother’s brow softened and his shoulders drooped. Fuck you, Neil Josten. 

The door down the hall slammed shut. The sound of Coach Wymack’s footsteps echoed in the silence. Taking a moment to glance around the assemblage, Wymack read the room and decided it was best not to say anything. Instead, he held out a plastic bag. Aaron’s hand shook as he accepted it. A paper bag resided within the first. Extracting it, Aaron read the label. He’d seen the label a thousand times before but, up until today, it had always borne his brother’s name. 

Pills rattled ominously inside. Sweat slicked Aaron’s palms. Upending the second bag, the sight of the orange bottle jarred Aaron to his core. Andrew took the bottle from Aaron’s lap and squatted in front of him. 

“Two pills in the morning after breakfast,” he said. 

“And two again at 4,” Aaron finished. Andrew pried Aaron’s hand open before unscrewing the cap. Tipping two pills into Aaron’s palm, Andrew lay a hand on the back of his neck. Aaron knew his brother struggled to express his emotions but this was one gesture Aaron had learnt to recognize. It was a gesture of comfort meant to offer support. Staring into his brother’s eyes, Aaron forced himself to bring the pills to his lips. He swallowed them dry, painfully aware of every inch of their passage down his throat. 

Anyone watching knew that Aaron’s descent into madness was swift. Aaron himself didn’t know that, though. To him, time seemed to slow. Staring down at his hands, Aaron flexed his fingers. Were those his fingers? Maybe. Maybe not. Aaron opened his mouth and felt the skin around it stretch. Laughter bubbled out of him at the odd sensation. 

“Aaron?” Nicky asked. Aaron turned his gaze to his cousin and a smile split his face. Once again, the odd sensation of his skin drawing taut left him in a fit of giggles.

“It hurts,” Aaron said. 

“What hurts?” Kevin demanded. 

“Looking at your face,” Aaron replied. Had the words passed anyone else’s lips, Kevin’s anger might have flared to life. Instead, any remaining signs of life seemed to drain from him. Now it really did hurt.

Nicky had always told Aaron that if you looked at something over and over again, you would eventually get it. Perhaps it was because seeing the reward would motivate a person to work towards their goal, but no matter how much Aaron looked at Kevin nor how hard he worked, Aaron knew Kevin would never truly be his. Why he kept tormenting himself by staring at him, Aaron didn’t know. Maybe he was just as self-destructive as Andrew. 

Sadness welled up in Aaron’s chest. A bone deep yearning had settled into him long ago but he suddenly felt the full intensity of- 

“Stickball!” Aaron cried as Neil wheeled the racquet cart out. Rocketing out of his seat, Aaron caught his brother’s arm and yanked it hard. “Andy, come play stickball with me!” 

“Play what?” Kevin squawked.

“Who?” Andrew choked at the same time. 

“Stickball, Andy,” Neil said. A smile curled the edges of his lips. Kevin opened his mouth to say something but Aaron didn’t stick around to hear. Instead, he followed after Neil chanting ‘Stick! Ball! Stick! Ball!’, dragging Andrew along behind him. 

So that gives you a general idea of Aaron’s madness.

Unlike Andrew, Aaron doesn’t really fight his meds. Where Andrew was terrified of not being able to properly watch out for his family, Aaron finds himself freed from all his anxieties. As such, he’s quite content with drifting through his life. I’ve always hc’d the twins as ADHD but are undiagnosed so it’s just a more intense version of how he normally is.

In the last two years, Aaron’s managed to make quite a few friends so they do their best to support him. Since he can’t focus very well and is no longer burdened by his anxieties, I feel like he also kinda relaxes around them??? Like he’s not as awkward. Very easy, breezy, joking around all the time. They really enjoy how much he’s opened up but they care a lot about him and are scared because they don’t know how to help him with class. What ends up happening is Katelyn is an absolute sweetheart. She convinces all of their friends to sit at the front of the room to record the lectures and upload them to a drive along with any extra notes that’ll help Aaron.

All the Foxes have to go to tutoring but Aaron’s tutor gave up the second he started his meds. After getting special permission from Wymack, they cut that time out and changed up the practice schedules a bit so Aaron could get out early and head back to Fox Tower. Once he’s made it through withdrawal, Katelyn will sit him down and help him work through his assignments. She’s a godsend. 

Aaron is usually off his meds on weekends. He usually goes out to Columbia with the Monsters. He still dances with Nicky and has his fair share of fun. They go to the mall pretty often bc there’s a carousel with spinning tea cups. The twins have spent an entire afternoon riding the spinning tea cups, competing to see who hurls first. Aaron almost always wins. Andrew will take him out late Saturday nights and speed down closed sections of highways or do donuts in parking lots because they're both dumbasses with death wishes. 

One weekend a month, Aaron remains at Fox Tower with Katelyn for spa day where they wax poetic about their respective crushes. Kate’s got a bit of a thing for a boy on the lacrosse team. Aaron screams bc he hates the guy. One time, at a party, the dude was talking to Kevin, shit talking both Kayleigh and Exy, completely unaware of exactly who he was talking to. Kevin ended up with a blackeye but the lacrosse kid couldn’t play for nearly two months. 

Speaking of Kevin, he’s only thing that ever seems to hold any of Aaron’s attention. He’s just so… pretty. If Exy is Neil’s shiny object, then Kevin is Aaron’s. Since Aaron makes even less of an effort to pay attention than Andrew did, there's times when he straight up can’t play. It infuriates Kevin to the point where Aaron gets pulled off the court. At first he doesn’t mind because it means that he can sit back and watch Kevin without any fear of getting caught. However, ever since he got put on his meds, Kevin hasn’t touched him. Not even in a non-sexual way. Before, there were casual touches: a hand on the small of Aaron’s back, shoulders pressed together as they squished into a booth, ankles hooked beneath the table. Now? There’s nothing. Kevin leaves a conspicuous space between himself and Aaron and it’s the only thing Aaron can feel anymore. 

So he starts paying attention on the court. Whenever they have a scrimmage, Aaron makes sure that he’s marking Kevin. Everytime Kevin crashes into him, Aaron’s consciousness slams back into his body. The heat of Kevin’s skin on his, their limbs tangled together, their ragged breaths intermingling, their helmets the only thing keeping their mouths from colliding together. Those little encounters are the only times when Aaron finally feels like himself. Those little encounters only last a few seconds and leave Aaron craving more, more, more. 

Aaron noticed that medicated Andrew was always brushing up against Neil but he’d never really thought much of it. Now he understood. Andrew had craved Neil just as Aaron craved Kevin. 

Speaking of Neil, he and Aaron get along well? I feel like Aaron is just as much of a smart mouth as Neil so the two of them just go around roasting the shit out of everyone. The drugs don’t change Aaron’s opinion of Neil but he begins to understand why Andrew broke their deal. Realizing that Neil didn’t steal his brother from him, Aaron starts to see the appeal in him. He’s stupid and funny and actually kind of pretty. Not as pretty as Kevin but pretty nonetheless. On weekends in Columbia, Aaron begins to notice all the things Neil does for his brother. Neil wakes up early in the morning to make breakfast and spends hours in the kitchen baking. He always picks up an extra pint of ice cream at the store and takes photos of stray cats to send Andrew. One time, Aaron couldn’t sleep and went to the kitchen for some water. His heart almost stopped when he heard Andrew’s rumbling laughter. Sneaking a peek around the corner, his heart really did stutter. Neil was standing on Andrew’s feet as he waltzed around the kitchen to the soft strains of music flowing from the radio. After aaron’s heart restarted, he hurried away because OH MY GOD ANDREW WAS LAUGHING AND DANCING AND HOLDING NEIL SO TENDERLY AND OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

Okay so maybe Neil did sic the mafia on them but he also makes Andrew happy so that evens it out right? It’s v slow but Aaron is very slowly learning to accept Neil.

Slipping back to his room, Aaron placed a hand to his chest, feeling his heart racing a mile a minute. Off his meds, Aaron found it hard to stem the surge of jealousy threatening to overwhelm him. He was glad Andrew had found someone who loved him the way he deserved to be but didn’t Aaron deserve love too? 

A soft knock sounded behind him. Aaron nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound. Oh, fuck. What it was Andrew? What if he’d seen him? With shaking hands, Aaron opened the door. For the second time that night, Aaron’s heart stopped. 

Vodka stained lips crashed against his. Aaron’s mouth opened on impact and he felt the warm slide of Kevin’s tongue on his. A moan tore from Kevin, reverberating down Aaron’s thought. It was a shot right to his core. Suddenly, Aaron’s clothes felt too tight, his body too warm. Grabbing the collar of Kevin’s shirt, Aaron hauled him into the room. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Aaron panted as he tore himself away from Kevin.

“Missed you,” Kevin slurred as he leaned back in. Aaron shoved him away, sending Kevin crashing into the wall. The look of anguish that washed over Kevin’s features threatened to tear Aaron’s heart out of his chest. 

“You haven’t come near me in months,” Aaron hissed. “Why now?” Kevin opened his mouth but nothing came out. He tried two more times before dropping his gaze. 

“Because I got scared.” Wrapping his arms around himself, Kevin retreated into his shoulders. “No one’s ever made me feel like this before. All day, all night, you’re all I ever think about.”

“You don’t think about me on the court,” Aaron sneered.

“And you don’t watch me from the sidelines.” Aaron felt the blood rush to his face. It had been years since Aaron had prayed but now he begged God to bend the shadows of his room to hide the burning of his ears. “Exy was all I’ve ever had. Back then, I played to stay alive but now… now I play because I know you can’t take your eyes off me when I do.” Kevin reached out slowly, giving Aaron time to move away. Relief flooded his face when Aaron didn’t flinch. As Kevin’s hand cupped his face, Aaron leaned into the touch. Pulling their bodies flush against one another, Kevin bent down enough to rest his forehead against Aaron’s. “I don’t want Exy to be the only thing I love anymore.”

“Then pick something,” Aaron whispered. He could feel his heart slamming against his ribcage as though it was trying to escape. He knew what was coming but nothing prepared him for actually hearing it.  

“ I pick you,” Kevin replied. Their lips collided once more and Aaron let Kevin steer them to the bed. Collapsing onto it in a tangle of limbs, Aaron felt like himself for the first time in months.  

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Side To Side

Chapter 195: Visions of Beauty

Characters: Law, Lammy Rating: Teen Warnings: Suggestive themes, language Notes: :3

~~~~~

“Why do you look so tired?”

Law blinked and moved his gaze up from his fish and chips “I’m not tired.”

“You look tired,” Lammy said, shoving a fry into her mouth. She was having cheesy fries with spicy peppers. He’s never seen Lammy eat that before, at least he didn’t think so. He had a fuzzy memory of sitting in the tavern sharing fries like that with a woman. He supposed it was Lammy because it certainly wasn’t Rose. She wasn’t big on taverns. She never complained about him going to one. There was a specific one that many of the staff from the hospital went to after work, but she never actually went herself.

Law supposed she was rather quiet and conservative. She didn’t really like being in rowdy and loud places. She didn’t really drink that often and she liked a healthy, balanced diet. That was fine, though. Law liked her that way. She was always so sweet when she helped him nurse his hangovers. He had a faint memory of a long forgotten friend who would make fun of him as he was laying in bed with a migraine from drinking one too many from the night before.

“How do I look tired?”

“You’ve got bags under your eyes. Work keeping you up? Did you lose a patient?” Lammy asked with a small frown. Losing patients was always hard. Losing patients in pediatrics was awful.

“No, thankfully. I guess I’m just not getting enough sleep.”

“Your wedding is coming up pretty soon...maybe you're anxious about the money you’re spending on getting everything that Rose wants.”

“Nah, that’s nothing.” Law shrugged. “Maybe I just need to go to bed earlier, it’s not like it will hurt me.”

Lammy hummed. “I am worried about you. You have a high stress job, relationships and weddings cause stress, you’ve been starting to eat worse lately, too.”

“Eat worse? Like what?”

“Like how we eat lunch at this place every week on Sunday. I always get something different, with an elaborate cocktail but you, you always get a house salad, no croutons, with a glass of water. Now you’re eating one of the greasiest meals in the restaurant. Along with soda? I thought you hated soda.”

“I never said I hated it,” he said defensively and took a sip. “I never noticed that I got the same thing. I just got what sounded appealing.” He reached over to take a fry and she smacked his hand.

“Get your own. These are my cheese fries.” She picked up her fruity cocktail and sipped it. “Thanks for coming with me, by the way.”

“To help you pick out a gift for your girlfriend? No problem. It’s what I’m here for. I’m surprised you're not embarrassed.”

“It’s not like I’m taking you pick out sex toys.” Law blushed hotly and glared at his snickering sister. “Sorry, is that not vanilla enough for you?”

“Shut up. There are some things that we do not talk about together.”

“Prude.”

“I will make you buy your own lunch today,” he warned as his sister gleefully laughed. “Can’t believe you just wanted to talk about that out and in the open.”

“Oh god, Law, calm down. I’m just teasing you. You don’t have to take life so seriously. Relax a little. Drink some alcohol, take a chill pill, do some sort of drug.” Law stared at her flatly. “You really are a wet blanket of a brother,” she sighed.

“There’s nothing wrong with the way that I am.”

“I guess,” she shrugged. “I’m just saying you can have a little more fun with your life. Go on a cruise or something.” Law watched the waiter place the bill on the table. “In any case, it doesn’t really matter. I love you the way you are, since I have to and all.”

“Thanks, I suppose.”

Lammy grinned and Law pulled out his wallet. It was time to go shopping he supposed.

~~~~~

“Rose!” Lammy exclaimed in excitement. “Are you coming to hang out with us?”

Rose giggled. “Yes, I wanted to see what you planned on buying for Stella.” She wrapped her arms around Law’s. Law froze for a moment. “Law, are you okay?” She looked up at him curiously.

“Uh,” he coughed. “Yeah.” What was that? Why did he freeze? He was suddenly feeling like he didn’t want any PDA, the idea of being leaned on felt claustrophobic. He swallowed and pulled away, taking her hand instead. This wasn’t nearly as bad. Rose didn’t seem to notice either way. She just squeezed his hand.

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.” Law almost made a disgusted noise. “Sweetheart?” What happened to “hon?” Wait. When has Rose ever called him “hon?” “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m tired. I’ve been having some weird dreams lately and it’s keeping me up at night.”

“Really?” Rose said curiously. “I haven’t noticed.”

“It’s because you’ve changed your diet,” Lammy said. “I told you that you’ve been eating weirdly.”

“I guess,” Law grumbled. He supposed he’d have to be more conscious about his food choices again. Eating more salad and drinking less alcohol. Then he’ll stop having dreams about submarines and pirates. He’s also been having a horrible recurring nightmare about losing his family to war. Maybe he needs to talk to a shrink.

“Oh! Look at these!” Lammy interrupted his thought. Rose let go of his hand and rushed over to Lammy. “These are gorgeous heels!”

Law felt himself groan. Another pair of heels? Wait. Another? Rose didn’t own heels. He’s never seen her in anything but flats. He walked over to see a gold pair of heels. There were gold flakes painted on them. He’s sworn he’s seen these before. There was something in the back of his head telling him that he’s seen them before.

“Ugh,” Rose scoffed. “I could never wear heels, they're just too much for me.”

“Well, they’re not too much for me,” Lammy giggled. “Although, I wouldn’t want to wear them all the time. Imagine how messed up your feet would be.” They both giggled and started to talk among themselves.

Law was...bored. He was so bored. Had he always hated shopping? He was the one who suggested that he and Lammy go shopping together, not the other way around, so why did he just want to go home and read? He didn’t feel like being social anymore. Ruby would understand, right?

Wait.

Law blinked and stared at Rose and Lammy. They were laughing and pointing at the items in the shop window. Law covered his forehead with his hand, staring up into the sky.

Who the hell was Ruby?

~~~~~

“I need a break,” Law sighed at Rose. “My head has been foggy lately so I’m just needing to chill.”

“Of course,” Rose smiled brightly. “Why don’t you go to the tavern with some colleagues? That always clears your head. That way we can focus on our wedding. We still have to finish up figuring out the hard details.”

“Yeah.”

The last thing he wanted to do was talk about wedding details. For some reason he didn’t want to even hear “marriage” or “wedding.” He’s been having weird dreams and nightmares every night. He’s been so tense. He wasn’t feeling right.

“Trafalgar, what’s got you so distracted? If you wanted to spend time with Rose, you could’ve.”

“No,” Law shook his head. “I need some “me” time.”

“I hear that,” his friend chuckled. “We all need some “me” time.”

Law nodded and finished his beer. “I’m going to get another.” He stood up and started to walk to the bar. Suddenly, a giggle cut through the noise of the bar.

Law looked over in the direction of the giggle and froze. Law couldn’t rip his eyes away from the woman in the red dress, no matter how badly he knew he needed to. She had long, brown, wavy hair. She wore tall red heels. She was unbelievably tattooed up and had multiple piercings in her ears. She was fucking gorgeous. She was at the pool table with a smirk on her face. She was surrounded by people in jumpsuits, all of them taking bets on who would win the game. He’s never seen them before, but something about them felt familiar. Something felt complete looking at them.

The woman giggled confidently and caught his eye. She blinked before grinning brightly with a small blush on her cheeks. Law felt his heart skip a beat. That smile of hers just completely captured him. Something about that smile told him to never make it stop. He wanted to be the reason she smiled like that. She winked at him and turned her attention back to the pool table. She smirked and sipped a dark colored drink from her glass, leaving a red lip stain on it.

He tried convincing himself to stop staring but he couldn’t. She was so different from what he’s found attractive before but everything about her was so obviously attractive. She looked like he could tell her all his secrets and undisclosed desires. Her brown eyes danced as she giggled at the curly haired woman next to her. He could see him and the woman in red with his head in her lap as she ran her fingers, with manicured nails, through his hair while he read a book. He could see it so clearly and vividly. How could he see that so easily when he didn’t even know what her name was?

Law was unable to ignore the group. He started to walk over to them, the sound of the bar fading out. The overwhelming urge to speak with them was forcing out rational thought. He just had to talk to the woman, he had to know her name.

Someone accidentally bumped into him and he blinked.

“Sorry.” They said boredly.

“Yeah.” Law looked back at the pool table and there was no one there. No trace of the group. Nothing. Was he hallucinating? They seemed so real and familiar. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. What was happening to him?

“Trafalgar, what are you doing?” He heard his friend call him.    

Law scrunched his eyebrows together. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’m just getting another drink. I got distracted on the way.”

“What? You have ADHD or something?”

Law rolled his eyes and walked to the bar, trying to force out that vision out of his mind. He swore that he’s seen that group before…

But where?

~~~~~

“Law,” Ruby giggled. Law brushed his lips against Ruby’s neck causing her to giggle more. Ruby had just returned to their bedroom that evening and kissed his forehead. Law pulled her into him and sat between her knees. He started to kiss her cheeks and neck as she happily giggled at the attention. “Why are you so affectionate today?”

“What? Am I not allowed to be affectionate with you?” Law kissed her lips slowly. Ruby hummed against his lips and smiled. Law pulled her in close. “Do me a favor?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t run off on me.”

“Never,” she said immediately with the sweetest smile. “I love you so much, Law. I would never leave your side.”

“Good.” He kissed her nose.

“Not going to return the sentiment?”

“Nope.”

Ruby tackled him back onto the bed. They both laughed happily and kissed between the giggles. Law had never loved someone the way he loved Ruby. He had familial love. He once had his family and Cora-san, and now he has his crew; but love with Ruby was so raw and passionate. It was so very different and he only wanted to feel this way with her. He knew that he would only feel this way with her.

He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them. Ruby smiled softly. She nuzzled his nose and kissed his lips slowly. They rested their foreheads against one another silently. Their fingers tangled together and they rubbed their noses against each other’s.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hm?”

He smiled genuinely at her, causing her own smile to grow. “I love you.”

Law opened his eyes and stared at his ceiling. His heart was beating wildly, his face was flushed. Who was Ruby? That dream felt so real. It felt so familiar. Like a memory, but he can’t remember ever meeting someone named Ruby.

But he keeps stumbling over that name recently. He almost called Rose “Ruby” not long ago. And that woman from the bar...she looked exactly like this Ruby from his dream.

His dreams were becoming so vivid as of late. Visions of submarines and people he’s never met. They all felt real. What’s even more distressing is they all seemed to be related to each other.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. What was happening to him?

[the-sarcastic-trashmouth]

Would you stay if I’m sick? (Request)

Prompt: I saw you were asking for writing prompts for the IT fandom and I have read and loved all of your fics on Ao3 and would love to see you write something about Stanley’s OCD perhaps stozier or stanpat! Love your work!! ❤️--Anonymous

Summary: “You might want to visit a doctor. Are you aware that you show signs of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?” She asked, causing Stan to blink a few times.

“Wait, wait--You think Stan the man has OCD?” Richie raised his hand before asking.

“It’s possible. I’m not saying that’s what you have. I’m saying that it’s something to look into.” She explains. 

“Is… Is something wrong with me?” Stan asked worriedly.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Stanley Uris

Warning: Talks of OCD, ADHD, and getting help for those illnesses. I don’t have OCD and I don’t claim to understand half of what they go through. Please read with caution.

Stanley was someone who had a very precise routine from the time he woke up to the time he went to sleep. He liked order and things been done in a very specific way or his brain would replay the scene over and over in his head until he’d fix it. It was something he physically couldn’t help.

A lot of people looked at him weirdly because of how Stan did every task that he was given. It really wasn’t his fault that he was wired this way… It was like his brain had to obsess over every little detail in his life. If he didn’t… his brain would never turn off and it would make it almost impossible to function.

Some days were harder than others.

Once in a while, Stan’s brain would battle him to the point where eating wasn’t an option because he had missed three questions on his math test. He studied and studied for days to make sure that he would ace that damn thing, but somehow, he had missed three questions. It made knots form in his stomach as his mind chanted how he wasn’t good enough and that his parents are going to be upset with him.

“Stan?” It was Ben’s voice that finally knocked him from his spiraling anxiety riddle brain. “You okay? You haven’t touched your lunch yet.” He points out as Richie glanced away from Bev to look at Stan.

“I… I’m not… I’m not really hungry right now.” Stan explains calmly. He knew that if he ate something… his stomach would regurgitate it back up and that would only make things worse.

“Stanley.” Richie’s voice was soft as he nudged him so Stan would look at him. “What’s going on?” He asked quietly.

“I…” His hands were shaking hard as he winced, trying to stop them. “I just… I’m fine.” His eyes snapped open as he looked to Richie who was watching him with a worried expression.

“Stan--” He’s cut off when Stan looks to him.

“It’s stupid okay! Just fucking leave it alone.” He huffed before looking away with angered tears forming in his eyes.

“Okay, well now, I’m really worried. Whatever it is… I’m sure it’s not stupid.” Richie points out.

“Richie’s right… For once.” Bev snorts as Richie flips her the bird.

“Stan, please tell us?” Eddie asked, glancing at him with a frown.

“That… That math test we took today… I fucking missed three questions.” He then proceeded to slam his head down onto the table with a groan.

“What?” Bev busted out laughing. “That’s it?” She questioned as Richie frowns at her.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know you studied really hard for that test. You did your best.” Richie explains instead.

“And look what it got me. Fucking three missed questions. Even my best isn’t good enough. I’m such a failure. My dad is right… I’m a failure.” Stan whispered before he started to tug at his curls.

“Hey, hey whoa!” Richie yanks his hands out of his hair as he blinked at him. “Alright, let’s just calm down before you make yourself go bald. I love you and your curls thanks.” He comments as Stanley’s breathing started to pick up.

“He looks like he’s going to throw up.” Eddie pointed out warily before moving away from beside Stan. “Is he?” He asked worriedly.

“No, Jesus, Eddie. He’s not gonna fucking puke!” Richie huffed. “And if he does I’m turning him towards you!” He smirks at Eddie’s glare. “Stan, okay. How about we fix this?” He asked.

“How? How are we going to fix this? Huh?” Stan was getting angry because he just wanted his brain to shut up for a few seconds.

“Let’s talk to Mrs. Vivan. Maybe she can let you retake the test?” Richie offers quietly. “I mean you can tell her you weren’t feeling well. She likes you and she’ll definitely let her favorite student retake the test.” He explains.

“You… You think she would?” Stan asked quietly as Richie nods.

“After school today we can go talk to her. I’m sure she’ll be happy to help you.” He assures with a gentle smile.

“Okay… Thanks. I just… My head hurts.” Stan sighs, shoulders slumping as Richie took his hand in his own and squeezed it gently.

“Yeah, that big brain of yours is always racing.” He snorts as Stan’s face flushes before he looked away.

True to his word, Richie took Stan to see Mrs. Vivan after school to talk about the test. Stan was trying not to freak out, but it was so hard because… what if she said no? What if she told him he was a failure, too? What if Richie makes fun of him like the others because he can’t control his emotions when it comes to good grades.

That’s the one thing that he’s always been proud of. His ability to learn information in such a short amount of time impressed a lot of teachers and even his parents. To have this taken away from him… was like taking away the very foundation that made him Stan.

“Oh, hello Stanley, Richie,” She nods to them before smiling. “What brings you here? Something we need to discuss?” She asked, taking off her glasses before standing up from her desk.

“Yeah, about the test we took today. We were wondering if Stan could retake it.” Richie explains as Mrs. Vivan frowns softly before glancing at him.

“Why? You did excellent on that test. My highest score exactly.” She comments before sitting on top of her desk as she gestures for the boys to sit down.

“But I missed three questions. I can’t… You don’t understand.” Stan whispered softly. “I studied for this test really hard.” He felt tears flooding his eyes as he tried not to break down.

Richie’s eyes widened before he glanced at Mrs. Vivan who held the same shocked expression.

“Stanley, those… those three questions you missed were bonus points. They were for the next lesson we are going to learn. It just helps me to know what level everyone is at. Honestly, you had the right system, just came to the wrong conclusion.” She explains softly.

“But--” Stan bit his lip harshly before finally thumping down in his chair.

“Stanley, can I ask if you are taking any sort of medication?” She questioned as Richie and Stan both frowned.

“No, do I need to?” He resorted when she tilts her head.

“You might want to visit a doctor. Are you aware that you show signs of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder?” She asked, causing Stan to blink a few times.

“Wait, wait--You think Stan the man has OCD?” Richie raised his hand before asking.

“It’s possible. I’m not saying that’s what you have. I’m saying that it’s something to look into.” She explains.

“Is… Is something wrong with me?” Stan asked worriedly.

“No, not in the way you are thinking. Sometimes an illness can affect you mentally. This disorder in a sense is your brain battling you for many reasons. It could be something simple like checking to make sure you turned off a light in your room to something as complex as making sure every book is color-coded along with being in alphabetically order.” She gestures with her hands.

“You know… That kinda sounds like you, Stanny. I mean… I’m not saying it’s a bad thing… I just… You do have little quirks that you do a lot. I never really thought about it because that’s just who you are. Just like I have ADHD.” He points out.

“Okay, say I have this… illness. What is talking to my doctor going to do?” Stan turned his attention back to Mrs. Vivan.

“Well, they could recommend you to a therapist who could help you talk through these issues or even some medication that can help ease your mind. You can’t always control how your brain works despite many people thinking that you can. Your brain is wired differently than another student who doesn’t deal with the issues you face.” She comments before sitting up.

“Why… Why am I like this then?” Stan asked quietly, not meeting her gaze.

“Most people who have this illness either get it genetically or through their environment. In some cases, both of those things can play a role. Does that mean that you have it? No, it’s just something to think about. Some people just like order. Others need that order to function properly.” She explains as Richie glances at Stan who swallowed thickly.

“Thanks, Mrs. Vee.” Richie snags Stan’s arm before tugging him towards the door.

“Uh--If you want to retake the test still, Stanley. Just come on Monday and ask!” She calls as Richie waves to her in thanks.

“You okay?” Richie asked as they started for the exit of the school.

“No, what the fuck… Do you… Do you think I’m crazy?” Stan croaked out around a tightening throat.

“What? No! Jesus, dude! I would never think that. Look, like she said. It’s possible you don’t have it. That being said, it… it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe they can help you so you aren’t as stressed anymore. I’m worried one day that stress is going to kill you…” Richie laughs, but it sounds forced.

“Rich… You know I’m not… I’m sorry that I’ve been worrying you so much.” Stan whispered when he felt Richie’s fingers course through his hair.

“Of course I’m gonna worry about you, dipshit. I’m your boyfriend. That’s what boyfriend’s do. They worry and love each other. Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it anymore then we won’t. I’m here for you and you alone. But… Don’t think that if you do have OCD… that I’m not gonna love you or something. I loved you before… and I’ll love you after.” He explains when Stan looked to him with a wobbly smile.

“I love you too… You don’t think I’m broken? I mean… Look at my fucking family.” He laughs when Richie grins gently.

“Can’t be any worse than mine, baby bird. Besides, you think I’m broken because I have ADHD?” He questioned, causing Stan to look at him like he grew two heads.

“Are you an idiot? Of fucking course, not!” Stan huffed.

“Then why are you any different?” Richie asked as Stan swallowed softly before their foreheads touch.

“Thank you… I really don’t know what I’d do without you.” He whispered when Richie grins.

“I think you’d manage, but since I’m here. I make your entire life so much easier!” Richie placed a hand on his chest like he was some knight.

“More like you are the reason I’m stressed all the time.” Stan resorts back with a quirk of his brow.

“Blasphemy! By my own boyfriend of all things!” He cried in a high-pitch voice, making Stan laugh before he pushed Stan away. “Ah! Assault!” He dramatically flopped to the ground when Stan glanced around the roads to make sure no one was around.

“You’re a little gremlin,” Stan comments as Richie looks up to him with a grin. “But you’re my little gremlin.” He snorts and leans down before kissing Richie who immediately kissed him back.

“You’re goddamn right I am! The best fucking gremlin that this world will ever know!” Richie exclaims before standing up and dusting himself off.

“No, no touching me. We’re going to your place to get you some new clothes.” Stan comments, putting out a hand to stop Richie who pouts.

“Maybe we can look at some comics. I heard the others were going to the Quarry today, but I’d rather hang out with you.” He grins as Stan smiles.

“Okay, maybe… maybe you can convince me to talk to my parents about everything.” Stan whispered when Richie snorts.

“Ah, my darling dear Staniel… I can try my best, but your head is as thick as fucking iron. So it’ll take me a few tries.” He chuckles, causing Stan to push him back onto the ground. “Ah! Wait! Stan!” Richie cried as Stan started to walk away. “Wait! You ass! Stan!” He scrambled to stand up when Stan finally glanced back at Richie.

Stan offers him a warm smile that was saved for only Richie. Maybe tomorrow he would face this… maybe it wouldn’t be for another few months if not years… But one thing was certain. As long as he had Richie… Even if he did have OCD or even if he didn’t. He knew that he was going to be okay because Richie loved him for being him.

[sisselin]

Answer to Rosebud1773

@rosebud1773 Ok My intention is not to be rude here but *takes deep breath* I don’t know why you think you are classified as someone that knows about autism? Like do you have it? Does someone you know have it? Does your favorite celeb have it? Or do you just like reading clickbaity articles about autism?

Because everything you said is basicly misconceptions and myths made up after a few individuals or by the general public and while yes autism is a different way of thinking there is no it’s “just” about it.. it is literally an entire different way of functioning and it is NOT the “next step in evolution” or a “better” way of thinking. My brain works differently then a neurotypical persons brain.. 

“Autism affects information processing in the brain by altering connections and organization of nerve cells and their synapses.[19] How this occurs is not well understood.[19] “

the fat cursive text was copied from wikipedia to show my meaning.

Also! Autism and Asperger is the same thing! there is multiple diagnoses that has been put togheter under one name Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and as the name suggests it is a spectrum.. That means there will be people with less symptoms that can function better in society and there will be more extreme cases that have more severe symptoms and some that can’t even speak atall..

“About a third to a half of individuals with autism do not develop enough natural speech to meet their daily communication needs “

I myself had a big delay in learning to talk and didn’t even babble like babies usually do but I got there in the end and I can now talk without problems other then my problems to concentrate and my inability to understand any type of grammar.

And saying autism isn’t a disorder is highly ignorant,while there are even some autistic people that wants to see it as just a different way of functioning the truth is that society is not built for people that function differently.. Also you can have symptoms that would fit into autism but still not get a diagnos because you don’t get diagnosed as autistic unless it is disabling you from having a normal life.

On top of all the problems understanding social communication and body language autistic people also often have problem with sensory overload (sound, movement, light, temprature, taste, smell, feel and touch) which makes it really hard to go anywhere.. Ofcourse also this is different for every individual but if I have a “bad day” I can only be out for a few minutes then i shut down and become unresponsive because I can’t stand all the sensory inputs. I happen to be sensetive to all the sensory inputs which makes it very hard to go through everyday life.

Also autistic people often have a higher base level of stress and small things cause greater stress then for neurotypicals and thereby have a greater chance to go over the line into “chaos” atleast that is what I was taught it’s called here in sweden. Basicly chaos is when the stress goes over a line into total meltdown and that looks different for everyone and happens for neurotypical people too but because of the lower base stress they are further away from it while many autistic people are already in the harmfully stressed zone or like me basicly balancing on the line of chaos at all times. For me chaos either is that I completly shut down and become impossible to reach or I lose control of myself and cry and scream and tries to hurt myself with hitting kicking biting and scratching myself. 

Another thing that is often a problem for autistic people is repetetive behaviour

Autistic individuals can display many forms of repetitive or restricted behavior, which the Repetitive Behavior Scale-Revised (RBS-R) categorizes as follows.[47]

Stereotyped behaviors: Repetitive movements, such as hand flapping, head rolling, or body rocking.

Compulsive behaviors: Time-consuming behaviors intended to reduce anxiety that an individual feels compelled to perform repeatedly or according to rigid rules, such as placing objects in a specific order, checking things, or hand washing.

Sameness: Resistance to change; for example, insisting that the furniture not be moved or refusing to be interrupted.

Ritualistic behavior: Unvarying pattern of daily activities, such as an unchanging menu or a dressing ritual. This is closely associated with sameness and an independent validation has suggested combining the two factors.[47]

Restricted interests: Interests or fixations that are abnormal in theme or intensity of focus, such as preoccupation with a single television program, toy, or game.

Self-injury: Behaviors such as eye-poking, skin-picking, hand-biting and head-banging.[20]

Ok pheeew and now to the genius IQ level thing.. let me just copy in this.. 

An estimated 0.5% to 10% of individuals with ASD show unusual abilities, ranging from splinter skills such as the memorization of trivia to the extraordinarily rare talents of prodigious autistic savants.[49] Many individuals with ASD show superior skills in perception and attention, relative to the general population.

That’s 0,5 -10% that are on like a super level of smart.. and most of the time when autistic people are super talented at something it is because it is a special interest/hyper fixation. Often we get super fixated on one thing and spend all our time doing that and nothing else.

Sure autistic people can have above average IQ but most of the time it is hindered by a lack of concentration or an inability or difficulties processing the information. For me my general inteligence is slightly above average but my thinking speed is way below average and my ability to put togheter the information toa bigger picture is also below average

Ok I don’t know if I covered everything but that’s all I have to say about autism for now other then that this information come from me ( someone with autism ) , the autism diagnoses course I took, books I have read on the subject, autism groups i’m a part of and other autistic people on youtube *loooong sigh*

Oh and ADHD is also a big problem but I think you get it already that you grossly oversimplyfied disablities you obviously know nothing about =)

Ok and now on to the actual helpful things wooo 🎉

I am thinking about starting a patreon but I don’t know if I have enough of a following to get the word out but patreon is deffinetly an option that I’m putting serious thought into! and so is my significant other =) Right now they are taking as many commissions as they possibly can and is also working on a game so there is really no time for starting and managing a patreon but it is something that most likely will be set up in the future when they have a more open schedule. Eldraev have wanted to start a patreon for soo long  =)

One sided finances is a pain honestly D=

I know I can’t control my family situation but I can and am working on my health everyday. But I can’t control my eating disorder it is not just a “just do it situation” it is a daily struggle but I’m working on it.  Also I would loove to stay away from food but I’m most of the time forced to eat sooo nothing I can do there xD Trust me I know I would feel so much better if I didn’t have to eat but i have no control of my eating schedule for health reasons Oh and it isn’t as simple as just moving around. I reblogged the post and added information and there I talked about my body being week and me getting a lot of pain from any amount of “exercise” but that is also I’m slowly working on

Ok very sorry for suuuper long reply but this is a topic I feel passionate about and I don’t like missinformation spreading or people belittling disabled peoples struggles. NEVER tell a disabled person that their disability is nothing!

I thank you for your being concernd and I hope you learnt something

EDIT: I thought of something else I wanted to add about autism! If it is discovered early you can specialize education and stuff to learn neurotypical behavior and thereby that individual can fit  better in society. 

[fam-der-linde]

Sorry if this has been done before but, how was everyone when they first joined the family? Like first few weeks and such. (:

Arthur: 

Stayed in his room

Always grumpy about something??

A lot of reading/being read to 

Constant nightmares

Crawled into Dutch and Hosea’s bed a lot

Writing/doodling in his new journal constantly 

He always asked before getting food

Hosea and Dutch took him fishing for his first time

He enjoyed it and wanted to go out to do it again

Didn’t want to start school

Bill:

Sneaked out a lot 

Dutch and Hosea get mad at him and demand to know where he is going

Psh, “nowhere”

Would take and store food in random locations to “save for later”

He and Arthur argued a lot at first before getting along 

Took Arthur’s journal one time and started reading it while holding Arthur back as Arthur was trying to get it back/fight him

They didn’t talk for a long time after that and Bill actually felt bad about it

Eventually Bill started to skip school when Dutch and Hosea made him go back 

Within his first week at school the school calls Hosea, saying that Bill never showed up once

The first month of living with his new family Bill was already grounded

Karen:

Still tried pulling scams with unsuspecting people

Hosea caught her, still giving her tips on how to improve on scamming people (since he did the same thing when he was younger) 

Dutch took her clothes shopping and they were gone for hours 

When they got home she made everyone sit in the living room as she displayed what new outfits they bought-Arthur: “Can we go now?”-Karen: “No. Now, which outfit should I wear for my first day of school?”-Arthur and Bill: Groans 

She’s insistent that she goes to school sooner than Dutch and Hosea would like  

Once she finishes her first week at school her phone is already filled up with phone numbers and texting constantly 

Dutch says that if any boy hurts his little girl or breaks her heart that he would break his legs and his skull 

Hosea tries to help her with her math homework but he gets frustrated because he doesn’t remember having to do this when he was in school

She tries to get to know Arthur, but he shuts himself out to almost everybody, so it was useless to try

She keeps everyone up at night with her phone constantly going off from phone calls/text messages

Tilly:

She cried. A lot.

Also prayed to God and her mother every morning and every night

Took her awhile to handle a room with Karen since she would talk on the phone for hours and snore at night

Always asked Dutch if there was anything she could do

Dutch told her to just relax and to enjoy herself

She tried desperately to find a hobby to enjoy

Then she saw a sewing machine ad on the TV

Hosea brought up her interest to Dutch, who bought it for her

She instantly made everyone little gifts with it

Karen took her shopping at the mall for hours while Dutch sat outside the shop waiting for them and was falling asleep waiting 

Javier:

Had trouble communicating 

He and Bill could never get along

Hosea always had to pull them apart when they got into fist fights

Hosea also helped him to improve reading

Scar across his neck that he was self conscious that everyone was looking or talking about it

Hated sharing a room with Bill, but liked sharing a room with Arthur

Arthur, Hosea, and Javier would all go out fishing together and it was Javier’s new favorite hobby

Of course, he’s also hooked on video games, but Arthur couldn’t understand how he could play it for hours and hours on end

School? Lame. He didn’t take school seriously for awhile until Hosea scared him into caring about it

Stayed up until 3am since he didn’t like to sleep because all he sees his good memories with him and his uncle 

Lenny:

Heavily mourning over his father (who was killed in a drunk driving accident) 

Didn’t want to talk to anyone but Hosea (since he was a family friend)

Eventually he opens up to Arthur

After that he never stops talking

Dutch is convinced that he’s not the same kid

It’s obvious that Hosea is his favorite dad

He’s excited to go back to school

Eventually he starts warming up to Dutch

They’re both bookworms and start discussing what books they were reading together

Not use to sharing a room since he was an only child- but now he knows he couldn’t ever sleep alone in a room again

Mary-Beth:

Was very quiet and didn’t want to draw attention to herself

Since food was something she never really had, she had a habit of checking the kitchen to make sure that there was enough food for everyone

Dutch always assured her that there would always be enough food, there would always be clothes, and there would always be a roof over their heads

She found that the internet was her getaway, making a whole life online that her new family wouldn’t understand

When she discovered cosplay she instantly went to Tilly, knowing that she made clothing

Once she got comfortable she was a chatterbox, especially with Arthur- asking about his day, telling him about her day, etc. and Arthur wasn’t used to the constant socialization 

She writes in a diary every night before she goes to bed

The girls stuck closely together

Anime was quickly her new addiction

Dutch got her hooked on reading 

John:

Literally was was always ready to fight/argue with any of his siblings/Dutch and Hosea

Once punched Bill in the gut for calling him “street rat”

Was always paranoid whenever Dutch and/or Hosea drove him anywhere

Pretty anxious and angry at everything

Dutch found that if they ‘took a walk’ he’d calm down 

Javier was the one who introduced him to video games by allowing him to play Call of Duty on his Xbox 360

Call of Duty was his favorite game and that made Hosea worried that he was channeling his anger in the wrong place

He tried mimicking Arthur a lot

Bill would practice his WWE moves on him- slamming him down on the couch

Hosea spent weeks helping him learn to read and it frustrated John greatly since he wasn’t good at it

Sean:

Tried to keep his ADHD to himself as best as he could so he didn’t seem like a freak

Then Dutch took him aside, asking what was wrong- since he was acting differently than when he did when they first met

Sean confessed that he didn’t want to annoy his new siblings

He thought that for awhile until he saw how literally everyone was dedicated to pissing each other off

He and John shared a room and it consisted of:-Sean: “John? Do pigeons have feelings?”-John, after a pause: “Shut up, Sean.” but do they?

John showed him video games (by sneaking in to Javier’s room to play on his Xbox 360)

Minecraft was his new favorite thing

Hosea sat him down and talked to him about medicine for ADHD, Sean admitted that other families he lived with made him take meds for it and made him feel like a zombie- Hosea left the choice for him and would respect it

Seeing Arthur doing some sketches Sean wanted to take up drawing too- they’re stick figures but he still enjoyed it, and Dutch put them up on the fridge

As soon as Sean started warming up to everyone Dutch pulled Arthur aside, commenting that Sean reminded him of Arthur when he was about that age.

Charles:

Always started his chores early

Pretended to eat what was made so he wouldn’t be an inconvenience since he was a vegan  

So he started making his own vegan meals

Super polite, but he was use to family enough to not put up with bullshit

Spent his spare time making crafts and taught his siblings how to make them as well

No matter how many times Sean and John tried to have him play video games he just couldn’t get into them

Tried to understand why Arthur was angry all the time but gave up when Arthur wasn’t going to budge 

Always asked Dutch and Hosea if they needed help with anything

Never actually went to school before, so he had a hard time getting use to the swing of things

Quickly decides that history is his favorite subject

Micah:

He made a point to bully his siblings (especially the younger ones for no reason)

But always cried to Dutch when they decided to retaliate 

Quickly realizes that he practically has Dutch wrapped around his finger

Forced to go to therapy because of what he’s been through

Hated it at first, now he can’t wait to see his therapist -”Holy shit, Jim, you will not believe what happened.”

Constantly has nightmares of his brother

At first, Lenny and Bill slept on the couches than shared a room with Micah- it hurt his feelings

Honestly never understood why nobody liked him

Was diganoised with bipolar disorder and was having trouble coping with it

He is/was pretty damn lazy

Sadie:

Was honestly a mess from the fire

She was either crying or yelling at Bill

Dutch was extremely patient with her

She would keep herself in her room all day long

It was hard for her to engage with the family at first

All she wanted to do was sleep

One day she went to the back yard to practice shooting

That’s when she taught Bill to shoot

They quickly became best friends

Almost overnight her personality changed from moping around to fitting right in with the family 

Kieran:

He was extremely skittish/anxious

Everyone would playfully call him an O’Driscoll and he hated it 

He had a bad habit of hoarding food

Always tried to get Dutch’s attention during inconvenient times- since he thought that Dutch didn’t like him

John and Sean taught him to play video games

He couldn’t ever stay asleep during the first few weeks

Hosea taught him to read

School was too hard for him

Turned out after a little effort he was a whiz at the English subject/spelling

Discovered that Youtube is a calm getaway

[dreammutual-remade]

high school!mark

request: highschool!mark if u love me plspls

 word count: 5.5k

a/n: lucky that I love u anon hehehehe !!!!! also wOW I didnt mean to make this so god damn long itS REALLY JUST THESE GOD DAMN HIGH SCHOOL AUS IM WEAK FOR THEM OKAY. look at this cutie hOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO RESIST

mark, renjun, jeno, donghyuck, jaemin, chenle, jisung

warnings: the usual intermittent cussing and probably an inappropriate joke or two

this au is my Ultimate Weakness it makes me soft as hell alright

………………….

LETS DIVE IN

okay so your mom has a job that forces your family to move around….. A LOT

and while you’ve gotten used to it for the most part it still sucks having to leave people behind and make completely new friends once every couple of years

this time you’re moving to a new school for your SENIOR YEAR and you’re livid

bc like ??? it’s senior year and you have exactly zero (0) friends since you’re new,,, yet again

you Threw A Fit when you found out but your mom was like shut up you ingrate soon you’ll be in college and won’t even have to worry about it

so you, an ingrate, shut up :/

you move in a month before school starts and the house is nice and your room is cute so that’s a plus !!!!!

you hang up some pictures and organize all your cute little trinkets you’ve collected over the years aw

you’ve even got a lil succulent garden growing on your windowsill

ITS CUTE AS HELL OKAY

alright so you’re gonna go explore around town because you , don’t know where anything is and you wanna find some good spots to hang

you take the bus into the middle of town because who tf is tryna drive themselves amirite ladies

support ur local bus driver

anywhom this isn’t a HUGE town but it’s one of those cute towns where you can pretty much walk anywhere you need to go

(god i wish that were me)

so you spend all day just, walkin

you find a library and pick up some books …….

both for decoration and reading okay

and you find a couple of restaurants and write them down to try later along with some coffee shops and whatnot

eventually you’re tired and prolly a lil sweaty bc it’s summer and you’re outside and ugh

so you find a nice big park and a tree and sit down at the base of it to read and mindlessly sketch things in the margins of your book

whEN OUT OF NOWHERE

someone shouts

“HEY WATCH OUT”

and you look up just in time to dodge a sOCCER BALL HURTLING TOWARDS YOUR FACE

it bounces off the tree and rolls a couple feet away

“uhhhh holy shit” - you

you just kind of sit there astonished for 5 seconds before you get up to get the ball and look around for who saved your LIFE

and there’s boy jogging toward you looking extremely embarrassed

you meet him halfway to hand him the ball and he’s like

“oh mY GOD i’m so sorry i told them to settle down but they never listen to me and jisung just ??? doesn’t know how to not take everything seriously and he lost and got pissed and kicked it and we didn’t even kNOW you were over here and also i’m so sorry”

you smile and tell him it’s fine and hand him the ball

you go to get back to your tree and he’s like hey uh you there uh wait up

god he’s awkward

and you turn around to face him with an expectant look

“so um, what’s your name? i haven’t seen you around here before and like in case i ever gotta make this up to you you know ??”

cute

you tell him your name and stick out your hand to shake and he grabs it very hesitantly and tells you his name is mark

he has , very warm hands and they’re only slightly bigger than yours but that’s still cUTE

MARK HAS BABY HANDS I DARE U TO SAY HE DOESNT

he says he hopes you enjoy your book and he’ll make sure the boys don’t disturb you anymore than they already have

you wave as he goes and he gives you a smile over his shoulder and his cheeks are tinged pink and wOw this boy is a cutie patootie

you go back to your reading but now instead of doodling you’re just writing his name or drawing his big doe eyes or his smooth hands

(((((let’s pretend we’re all good at drawing okay god knows i can’t do much more than a stick figure)))))

the boys leave after an hour or two and you leave pretty soon after then because the sun is setting and you gotta be home for dinner

basically your mom wants to make sure you aren’t kidnapped and/or lost in a new town

which, to be fair, is not that unlikely

you have your headphones in and you’re leaned against the bus window half asleep as you go

bitch wake up youRE GONNA MISS YOUR STOP

it’s the same bus driver who saw you get on and honestly there aren’t a lot of people on the bus so he makes sure you get off

“hey you, girl back there, hEY! this is your stop girly”

you thank him profusely and tip him because uhhhh u gotta get home and like Not Lost

you skip home with your bag of books and miscellaneous items you found at the thrift store!!!

you bought a little figurine of a dragon and she’s beautiful her name is saraphina because why not

that’s completely irrelevant i’m so sorry

i have ADHD

anywhom

you walk in and you’re all like hey momma !!! how goes it !!:3

and your mom is Sus™️ because why are you in such a good mood

and you’re like !!! cause i had a good day okay love u bye i’m going to my rOOM

don’t let her question anymore or else she’ll dig out that you met a Cute Boy

you go to your room and get out all your purchases and organize them while you still have the motivation to do so

and yeah

you use one of the blank notes to start like a lil drawing diary of sorts ???? like just to draw stuff in whenever you’re inspired or you see something pretty

and you definitely saw smth pretty today ;))))))))

hint: ITS MARK

you try to draw him from memory but it doesn’t look quite right and like :(((((( how sad is that what if you don’t even see him again

the rest of the month passes pretty quickly in the same fashion

by now you’ve befriended the bus driver and he tells you all the cool secret nooks and crannies of town for you to go find

he’s also your bff pretty much he always tells you about his daughter and all the cute things she does and you just talk about your life in general and he gives you advice

congrats you’ve unlocked Wise Uncle

he gives you directions to this teeny TINY flower shop where you befriend the old lady who works there by bringing a muffin everytime you go by

she trades you for a seasonal flower and makes a big deal out of tucking it behind your ear herself

basically you find all the cute old people in town and make them your friend because.

THATS CUTE

ADDED BONUS OF LIKE 17 PARENT FIGURES TO GIVE YOU ADVICE

this is accidentally straying into art hoe territory i hope y’all are okay w/ that

school is starting really soon and you’re nervous but also used to this so it doesn’t affect you as bad as normally

also you did meet some people so you aren’t going in with no friends but like, pretty close to no friends

on the first day of school you ride the bus and you see ???? mark ????? on your bus ????????

so you get on and do your daily greeting of the bus driver

his daughter lost her first tooth AW

you fake cry and he says “mood” and you lose it because you’re pushing internet culture onto this unsuspecting middle aged man skdkdkkd

you pat him on the shoulder as you walk back to find a seat but there are none because for some reason the bus is busy this early in the morning ????

you wouldn’t know lmao summer sleep schedule had you up at 10 at the earliest

so you go to stand and hold onto one of the poles in the center

(nearby our boy mark LEE)

mark looks up from his phone

these god damn millennials always on that damn phone

and he sees you and he’s like wHOA what’s up uhhh Soccer Ball Girl

and nice you remembered his name bUT HE DIDNT REMEMBER YOURS

but then he’s like nahhhh just kidding i remember ur name hey y/n !!!

you talk otw to school and find out you’re both seniors at the same school and how you’re excited for sports games and like, GRADUATING

mark keeps trying to offer you his seat but you refuse and he pouts everytime you say no :((((

good god just take the seat look at the sad baby boy :((((((((((((

there is an, occurrence

at one point the bus goes over a bump and you stumble a little and mark reaches up to catch you before you literally fall on him

his hands fly out and grab you by the hips to steady you since he’s sitting and you’re standing and he can’t exactly reach your shoulders sO YEA

or at least that’s his explanation in his head huehuehuehe

his hands linger for MAYBE 10 seconds before he whips them back into his pockets and blushes while you thank him

you: are also blushing

the bus driver: completely did that on purpose

when you get off the bus your Second Dad tells you good luck and pats you on the head and mark is like ???? do you know him

and you’re like yeah that’s my man maurice we’re buds

and he’s like ???? i’ve rode that bus all my life to school and i’m not buds with him wtf :/

“srry you’re not as lovable as me!! jealousy is a disease <3”

and he laughs his dorky laugh

you highkey are smiling so big because this boy is so cute and he’s walking close enough that your shoulders brush every once in a while and he has a silly laugh and AW

as you walk into the school marks group of Boys starts waving him over excitedly and he turns in their direction but then stops when he sees you aren’t following

“hey whatcha doin???”

“well uhhh those are Your Boys you know and i’m, i don’t, really, uh they don’t know me”

“aw cmon they’ll love you!!! look ill just introduce you and if they’re terrible and annoying you can leave”

“........ i gue-“

but he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you over to them

“sup fellas this is y/n and she just moved here this year so don’t be too overwhelming.”

the smaller one with the highish voice chimes in

“aww but overwhelming is my only setting”

“then just don’t be yourself, chenle”

“heYYY it’s that girl i almost killed in the park !!! so sorry about that by the way”

he introduces them to you one by one and they all shake your hand

jisung is the one with the big ass yaoi hands and also the one who almost ended your young life

jaemin is the one with pretty smile

jeno is the one with the squishy eyes

renjun is the Art Hoe of the group you can just tell

he’s wearing some got damn overalls you gotta befriend him immediately

donghyuck is the one with beautiful skin and a v high voice you’re highkey like hey but can you dROP THE SKINCARE ROUTINE and he’s like “i just wash my face every day xoxo :*”

you quickly learn who is a piece of shit and who isn’t

you figure out who has classes with you and then set off for the day !!

mark has gym and economics with you but those are after lunch :(((

he squeezes your shoulder before he leaves and says good luck though so you’ll survive

you have art with renjun first and this boy is your bestie already

he’s such a sarcastic shit and he too likes drawing random things and vandalizing school textbooks with artistically correct memes

he also has the AUDACITY

“so, you and mark already ;););)(;);)))”

“i uh don’t know what you mean by that”

“you SO do!!!!! you guys walked into school together everyone probably already thinks you’re a thing”

“oh shit really??? ah i feel so bad”

“is that a bad thing???”

“i mean yeah i’m not tryna Tarnish mark’s reputation”

“that is some self hatred bs he would be lucky to have you !!!!”

“renjun you don’t even know me that well yet”

“i know enOUGH”

you just uhh change the subject which renjun def notices but like

who cares

renjun apparently also goes to the same flower shop as you !!!

you find out because you see him drawing the front of it and you’re like heY i’ve been there my girl edna works there !!!!! she insist i call her grandma tho

and he’s all oh sHIT that’s my girl too !!!!!!

long story short edna is now your shared grandmother

now THAT is some uwu shit

you go about your day and it’s lunchtime and yOU uh don’t know where to sit :(

you see a girl that you met who works at the little coffee shop you like so you set off in her direction and you’re almost there when jeno and jaemin walk up and sling an arm around your shoulder from either side

“hEY BUDDY” -jeno

“SUP SQUIRT” -jaemin

and they start steering you in another direction towards their own table

“god of all nicknames you had to give me sQUIRT”

“yes it’s because you’re cute and small like squirtle”

“that’s a god damn reach if i’ve ever seen one but okay”

you get there and they practically TOSS you into the seat next to mark

he winces and gives you and apologetic pat on the back before starting the conversation

“alright so who actually did the summer reading”

as the table bursts into Absolute Ruckus you just kind of sit back and watch

mark notices you being quiet and while renjun and chenle are arm wrestling he leans over to quietly be like

“hey you doin okay over there? are they too much”

“oh not at all i’m just takin it in lmao”

“yeah that’s understandable. they’re easily the most entertaining group of people you’ll ever meet but also i’ve wanted to strangle every single one of them at least once”

“what are you 30??? you talk about them like you’re their mom”

“i mean someone’s gotta do it”

you and mark talk all throughout lunch and head to gym together since that’s next

exercising right after eating ??? sounds like a GREAT plan thanks so much public school system !!!!

you go to pull out your bag of gym clothes but ??? all you’ve got is shorts ?????

S H I T

you start whining because you’re like aWW i’m gonna get in trouble :(((((

and he’s like here i have like 12 shirts in here because i always bring too many and then leave some when i got soccer practice i gotchu

(he gives you the clean shirt that hasn’t been sitting in his locker <3333 what a guy)

you thank him proFUSELY and then go to the girls locker room to change

the shirt is too big and you don’t wanna look like a Bag so you tie a lil knot in it in the front

you don’t look like a thot tho you just look Cute As Fuck

some girl in the locker room lets you borrow a hair tie and off we go !!!

it’s the first day so everyone literally just stretches and sits around talking

you’ve hashtag LOST mark and you don’t have any friends yet so you’re just chillin talking to the girl who gave you a hair tie because she seems nice and you got nothin better to do

you’re explaining to her how to take care of a succulent /properly/ when mark catches a basketball that was headed right for you yelling a watch it !!!! over his shoulder

he turns to you and giggles a little, nudging your foot with his

“you’re just a danger magnet aren’t you”

“i mean danger is my middle name so”

“uGH get your ass over here away from all those freshman hoodlums who think they can play”

you wave bye to your friend because there’s literal fear in her eyes at the sight of mark ??

you ask her what’s wrong later and she’s like oh it’s not him i just have a crippling fear of boys

(that’s a mood)

you and mark pass a volleyball back and forth and fuck around pretty much all period

this is actually the one (1) sport he isn’t good at thank GOD you were worried he had no flaws

at the end of the class you ask him if he wants his shirt back and he says, and i quote,

“nah you and your thot knot can keep it, looks cuter on you anyways”

you smack his arm for calling you a thot but then thank him anyways for the shirt and for calling you cute :))))))))

econ passes the same way except normal clothing and no sports

although mark does throw a wadded up piece of paper on you that says u want 2 hang w the boys n me after school ? if yes then breathe if no do a backflip

this headass boy

you throw it back so it bounces off his forehead and then nod to confirm you will

you don’t have any of the boys in your last class and you don’t where to meet up so you just kind of loiter by your locker since jeno’s is pretty close to yours and maybe they’ll meet here ????

luckily jisung spots you and is like hey what r u doin here aren’t u hanging with us after school??? cmon

you follow him out to the parking lot where they’re all gathered around jeno and jaemins vehicles because apparently they’re the only ones with actual cars

rip

they start waving too excitedly when they see you and mark smiles all big

wooOOO baby boy already has a crush on you :3

they’ve apparently already decided to go to chenles house because apparently he’s fuckin loaded

you don’t believe that for a sECOND because he’s wearing crocs and an old ass polo shirt but

we’ll see

you mark and renjun ride with jaemin while the Babies ride with jeno since he is able to ignore them being crackheads in the backseat and drive his vehicle without crashing

apparently they’ve cause multiple vehicular accidents ??? possibly the reason renjun doesn’t have a car ???????

who knows

y’all have a blast in jaemins car tho playing tokyo drift from the third fast and furious movie if u haven’t heard that shit plEASE GO LISTEN WHAT A SONG HEHEHHEHHEHE

you pull into this BIG ASS house and you’re like no fucking way dude

and everyone else in the car simultaneously says

“i know right ???”

y’all pull in and go inside and it’s real nice holy SHIT

chenle comes in cackling followed closely be jisung and more sedately by jeno who looks ready to fckin die

you pat him on the shoulder and go you did well, soldier

he salutes solemnly before breaking out into the smile

y’all know the one

you UWU right there on the spot but hold yourself back from poking his cheek and cooing

chenle then SCREECHES and yells

“WHO IS TRYNA PLAY JUST DANCE”

and everyone crowds into his living room

somehow the couch is big enough to fit all of you comfortably that’s fckin impressive

you play just dance for 3 whole ass hours and now you’re Tired and Ready To Go Home

there’s a bus stop nearby and you insist upon walking since jaemin already have you a ride here and you didn’t even have gas money to give him :(((

mark goes to since you have to catch the same bus

you hum as you skip around the sidewalk and he walks behind you smiling fondly while you twirl around

he recognizes the song and whistles along and wow !!!!

Harmony™️

when you get to the stop you’re like 5 mins early

so to entertain yourselves you play rock paper scissors and each time the winner gets to flick the loser on the forehead

mark is a sweet boy so he flicks softly but you go all out

wouldn’t be surprised if he had a bruise tmrw girly u need to chill

you sit on the bus together when it arrives since there’s actually room now and he slumps down low until his head is pretty much rested on your shoulder

(our man maurice sees and is like GET IT GIRL but only so you notice and you make threatening hand motions at him)

you’re not sure if he’s asleep so you stay extra still just in case

and no one needs to know you rested your cheek on top of his head

but when it gets to your stop you’re like mark? mark lee??? mork ???? wake up ??? and you nudge him a little with your shoulder and he sits up and rubs his eyes aW

he slow blinks at you and goes

“hm?”

and you’re like i uh gotta go now

and he’s like :/// okay i’ll see you tomorrow and stands up and gives you a half hug before you go

maurice is DYING in the front you’re going to kill him

you walk home with a smile on your face and again your mom is suspicious of your good mood but you’re like aw it’s nothin just had a good day at school made lots of friends !!!!!!

as summer turns into fall you make more friends but you mostly hang out with the boys because they’re funny and nice to you and also Mark is there and we love our boy

you guys all attend football games together and go absolutely ALL OUT for whatever the theme is

for example: the theme was halloween and you all dressed as god damn SMURFS

it was legendary there was not one bit of you all that wasn’t covered in blue paint

jisung almost fought some girl who thought he was from the movie Avatar until everyone was like jisung cHILL OUT ITS NOT HER FAULT YOURE VERY TALL AND COMPLETELY BLUE

and well

can’t argue with that

it gets chillier though so you all bring blankets and cuddle most of the games

all of the boys suspiciously aren’t cold at first until you and mark share a blanket

they’re so obvious GOD

with each time y’all share you get more relaxed around each other until eventually mark has one arm slung around you and your legs are hooked over one of his thighs while y’all Snuggle

renjun waggles his eyebrows at you every five minutes and you discreetly give him the finger every time

little ASSHOLE

college applications are due like. right now

you all apply to a nice university close by as a backup/safe place and then apply to more brazy places just to see if you can get in

everyone’s been real stressed lately so you’re like !!!!! hey imma throw a friendsgiving party !!! yeehaw !!!!!!!!!

and you invite all of them over

“everyone bring smth and i’ll bake a ham or smth,,, i swear to GOD if all of you show up with store-bought pumpkin pie. i will kill you and then myself”

“what’s with you and pumpkin pie?”

“jUST. don’t”

((((srry i’m projecting my hatred of pumpkin pie onto u reader heheehehheh))))

everyone comes over and it’s really chilly so you have a fire in the fireplace and you have a couple of your gal pals over too

your mom is nice enough to leave y’all alone for the night and she’s not hurt since it’s not real thanksgiving

we stan moms

you bring out the ham and someone has brought green beans and mark ,,,, tHAT ANGEL he brought cornbread stuffing do y’all know what i’m talking abt

OOO THAT STUFF IS GOOD

and there’s sweet potatoes and apple pie and all the Thanksgiving Essentials

jisung wanted to be a dick so he brought cranberry jelly

“why don’t you have some:) cranberry preserves:) , jisung” -you, every 30 seconds

everyone sits down to eat and it’s LOUD so you’re like shut UP !!!!!!!!!!

“every1 say smth ur thankful for :3333”

“my family !!!!”

“you guys <3”

“awW BOOO” - everyone, while throwing things at jaemin

“my life !!”

“that i’m happy”

“gay” -chenle

“minecraft”

anyways no one took it seriously until it got to mark

“i’m grateful y/n moved here :))))))”

everyone goes KSKDDIDI and you blush and you’re like okay ily mark JSKKD

everyone EATS A LOT and then you go sit in a pile in the living room

you go to make hot chocolate for everyone and when you come back it’s , interesting how there’s only room for you next to mark . hm

you pass out the hot chocolate and everyone reaches Maximum Sleepytime

at this point you’re too tired to give a fuck and you just flop onto the couch next to mark and curl up into his side

he puts his arm around you to pull you close and this mf presses a tiny barely there kiss to your temple

you look up and like talk with your eyes

did u just

i did

oh

yeah

and then you just settle back down

it’s too crowded in here for any Moves to be Made

bUT YALL BEST BELIEVE WHEN ALL THESE YOUNGINS GET OUT UR HOUSE

you’ve got the karate kid on bc ??? who doesn’t love the karate kid and all of your cutie friends are asleep in various places

but once it gets super late you start waking people up and going hey i love you but your mom called mine like 8 times you gotta gO

you make sure everyone is awake fully if they’re driving and to text you when they got home safe

at long last

you’re alone

in your house

with mark

actually where is mark

mark has disappeared ?????

you start looking around for him and find him in your room ???

“you snoopin thru my things ??!?!??”

he jumps and is like uHH but you’re like nah you’re fine idc

so he continues and he was really just lookin at what kind of books you have and the little drawings and paintings and knick knacks everywhere

you just sit on your bed and observe him

let’s be real he’s nice to look at and you’d be perfectly fine doing this for uhhh the rest of your life

he pulls a book off your shelf and starts flipping through it until he pauses at a page

and his face blooms into this big smile and he looks hella giddy

and you’re like uhh hey whatcha lookin at there bud

and he just keep smiling and it’s a little smug now wtf

“when were you reading this?”

“oh uh i don’t know i got it this summer at that cute little bookshop”

“was it, by chance, the day we met?”

“i mean maybe??? why ????”

and he shows you the page and it’s tHAT oNE WHERE YOU WERE DOODLING BITS OF HIM AND WRITING HIS NAME ALL OVER IT

FUCK !!!!!!!

you immediately turn tomato red and snatch the book in to hold it tightly to your chest

“uhhh i do that with uhhhh eVerYONE I MEET”

“aw i thought i was special:((((”

he’s creeping closer to you this whole time until he’s INCHES AWAY

he gently pulls the book out of your hands and places it aside before grabbing your wrists and uncrossing your arms

“personally, i think it’s really cute”

you blush even more this man knows what he’s doing

you mumble a thanks with your eyes trained on his fuzzy socks what a dork

he releases one of your wrists to push your chin up so he can look you in the eyes

“do you really do that with everyone you meet?”

“,,,,,,, no it’s just you”

“alright cool”

and then he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you close til you’re pressed together chest to chest AW

he nudges his nose against yours and you close your eyes because your god daMN HEART IS POUNDING AND YOU CANT LOOK DIRECTLY INTO THOSE BIG PUPPY EYES

he presses the sweetest and gentlest of kisses to each cheek and then to the top of your nose

he presses one last lingering kiss on your forehead before he tilts his chin down to press your lips together

it’s so soft and innocent wow i’m going to SHED TEARS WRITING THIS

and he pulls away and you press your face into his neck in embarrassment

he chuckles a lil and rubs your back, leaning his cheek against your head

“hey, you down there”

you say “yeah?” but your voice is muffled by his neck and it’s more like eh ???

“my girlfriend y/n will you be ???”

what the fuck

you pull your head back so you can look at his face which is turning steadily redder

“uh what”

“shIT uh i meant will you uh bemygirlfriend”

your confused expression turns into a shit eating grin and you’re like

“what was that :)))) i didn’t hear you :)))))”

he groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder and pitifully whines out

“please be my girlfriend :(((((“

you pick his face up and hold it between your palms and he pouts playfully

“well how could i say no to that face”

and you smooch him right on those lil pouted lips

“yes i’ll be your girlfriend”

he smiles real big and smooshes you against him aw

wow so now you’re mark lee’s gf

LUCKY BITCH

lowkey you get a few threats but as soon as mark catches wind of that he stands on the statue in front of the school and announces that if anyone has a problem with you they’ve got a problem with him !!!!

and he looks like: ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

you drag him down while apologizing to everyone in the general vicinity

mark is. veRY CLINGY NOW

i mean no complaints here it’s just

wow

you’ll be standing at your locker when BAM mark is wrapped around you from behind and you get a hey baby how’s ur day right in your ear

in gym class he restrains himself since the coaches are always like LEE KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF

but he always whines after and is like

:((((( but you look so cute in my shirt i wanna squish you

whenever mark comes over you force him to let you draw him at least once

each time it gets easier since you’ve started to memorize the details of his face and the knuckles of his hands and the shape of his shoulders

a lot of times he just comes over to watch movies and talk

he’s not an eloquent guy

(“you all look like pretty grass :)))” - mark lee)

but he gets what he needs to say out and he enjoys listening to you talk about whatever’s on your mind

you’ve started a glow in the dark star sticker collection to put on your ceiling and each time he comes over you put a constellation up there

so you’ll lay in bed and turn off the lights and just stare at the ceiling and try to name them all

soon you’ll just get sleepy though and press your face into his chest

he uwu’s every time :((((

after he’s done being astonished by his Baby™️ he’ll wrap his arms around you and stroke a hand up and down your spine wow

Real Relaxation Hours

your mom will come home and find y’all asleep and then SHE uwu’s and it’s just one big cute MESS

he loves to kiss you right as he’s leaving like he’ll lay one on you then RUN to the bus stop

p.s. maurice is on y’all every day saying he called it AY

his other favorite kisses are when he catches you off guard and just turns you around and kisses you and you’re like

I’m Confused But I Like This

lots of sweet pecks throughout the day and then longer slower stuff when you’re home and alone and relaxing

leaves hickeys on your neck literally just to be annoying

it’s oKAY THO DONT TELL HIM YOU LIKE IT

months pass and youve said your first “i love you’s” to each other and renjun is always like so when y’all gettin married huh

you both SMACK him simultaneously

but lowkey you would marry mark he’s the best and you love him so wHY NOT

but it’s early and you know that and you’re happy with what you have now :))))))

pls love and support our hardworking baby mark lee he is doing his best and i love him goodnight