#the whole ''it sounds like you really want to do it'' with connor pushing that he still wants to get married despite what happened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psithurista · 11 months

Text

approach shift pt. nine

pairing: Peter Parker x f!reader (TASM/Andrew Garfield version) length: 4.3k rating: explicit 18+ warnings: Mentions of death, fingering, a quick wristy (lol)

Peter Parker is a weirdo. A hot, distracting, irritating weirdo. And you can’t afford distractions right now. So there’s only one thing to do.

a/n: Last full chapter but there will be an epilogue in the not-too-distant; I'll probably have more notes then. Thank you x

series masterlist

The back of your head is torturously itchy.

You try surreptitiously to press your knuckles to the spot, just to relieve the worst of it. The nurse sitting closest to you glances up at you from over the top of her monitor and guiltily, you clasp your hands back down into your lap.

It smells sour in here, like soft plums left to rot. Whichever industrial cleaner it is this hospital uses, it’s definitely not one anybody’s trying to market for domestic use. It’s probably cheap as fuck, you contemplate, your hand drifting back up towards your head.

“You can go in now,” a new nurse says beside you. You jerk your hand away. “He’s awake. I let him know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh, thank you,” you say, unpeeling yourself from the plastic waiting room chair. “I won’t be very long. I just wanted to say hi.”

She gives you a mild, distracted okay-that’s-nice-whatever smile and disappears. You push open the door to the room she’d just exited and duck inside.

It smells far better in here. There’s a vase of opening lilies leaving red pollen-stains on the table in front of the window, and the lavender-powder smell of clean sheets. Doctor Brant is propped up in the bed, frowning hard at the tablet in his hands.

“I hope you aren’t working while you’re meant to be resting,” you say.

He tilts his head down to peer at you over his glasses. “Oh, no. It’s just sudoku. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Doctor. How are you?”

He nods, and sets the tablet aside. “Well, they’ve finally taken me off the oxygen so I expect I’ll be allowed to leave soon. All things considered, a little smoke inhalation injury at my…advanced age could’ve been far worse.” His eyes glint a little bit. “Were you injured?”

You shake your head. “A concussion, but I’m fine. The. He. Um. You know. He got me out, before he went back for you.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed to look for me.”

You sit gingerly on the very edge of the chair next to the bed. “I thought. I didn’t think he’d made it to you in time. I thought you were both.” Your voice starts to sound weird, so you stop talking.

He folds his hands together over his chest. “It’s strange. I remember the first time I saw him. I didn’t understand what was happening. I thought it must have been a stunt, or an advertisement for something. Silly, really. And yet he’s saved Oscorp from itself more times than it deserved. After Connors and Dillon and that whole terrible disaster with young Harry. It’s too much. There’s no reason for anybody to endanger themselves in that place ever again.” He takes his glasses off and sets them beside the bed. “Which is why I’ve resigned.”

You stare at him. “You. What?”

He smiles at you; the expression a little indulgent. “All those years of work, gone. And for nothing. I’m sure you’ve already heard what happened?”

You have. It’s been all over the news the entire week. First the speculation: was it an attack? Was it political? Was it another disgruntled ex-employee? A competitor? And then, later, the worse, more boring truth: regular old corporate negligence. An undertrained technician who’d tried to prematurely purge a vac test chamber with concentrated oxygen. An alarm system two years overdue for maintenance. And floor upon floor of laboratories filled with dangerous substances, improperly stored.  

Nobody else in your department was seriously hurt. But others weren’t so lucky.

“When I started with Norm, it was all about changing the world for the better. And in the end, we’ve helped nobody.” He shakes his head. “If you’ll forgive my language…Fuck Oscorp. I’m ready to start over.”

You grin at him, even though it feels a little watery. “I’m…really happy for you.” And you are. In the brief time you’ve worked under him, his passion has been obvious, but he’s always seemed so bogged down by the minutiae of red tape; appeasing a board of investors with no interest in the importance of his life’s work beyond its potential profitability.

But it also makes your already-uncertain future with the company even foggier. You’ll need to find someone else willing to offer you a similar graduate position, and you already know you won’t find anything else quite as specialised as the work he’s been doing.

He takes a sip from the glass of water beside his bed, then sits back with a sigh. “Publicly-funded research is a far less glamorous world than that of private enterprise. We’ll be relying primarily on grant funding and academic support. There won’t be any glass fountains or vertical gardens, I’m afraid.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It’ll be a big change.” His eyebrows draw together at you. “I would understand if your answer is no.”

You blink. “My answer?” you say, like a genius.

“If so, I would, of course, write you a glowing recommendation. And I have plenty of contacts I could put you in touch with, if you’d prefer that.”

Holy shit. Is he…? “Hold on. Are you offering me a position with you?”

“Well, yes.”

He grunts as you dart in and hug him. “Oh! Yes! I mean, of course! I would love to. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this.”

“Uh.”

You lean back as he smooths his blankets down. “Sorry,” you say, a little sheepish. “That was unprofessional.”

He tries to look stern, but it’s unconvincing. “Well, yes,” he says again. “But I’ll choose to ignore it just this once.”

You stop by to see Bear on your way home. The roller doors in the alley beside the grimy little theatre are propped open so you can see all the half-painted set pieces inside, and there’s a bunch of people dressed all in black gathered around smoking.

“Are you gonna be home tonight?” you ask, watching her inhale the deli sandwich you’d brought after correctly guessing she hadn’t stopped rehearsing long enough for lunch.

“I can be if you want,” she says, her mouth full of half-chewed food. “But I was kind of planning on staying at a friend’s.”

You press your knuckles absently against the back of your head and leer at her. “Would this friend happen to be the same person who wanted you to move in after one salad date?”

“If you don’t stop scratching your stitches I’m calling the hospital and narcing to your doctor. And yes.”

You make a face. “I’m not even touching them!”

She stuffs the rest of the sandwich in her mouth and wipes her hands on her jeans. “I’m seriously cool not to go, though. It’s totally fine.”

She’s barely left you alone since you got back from the emergency room, even setting alarms and checking up on you throughout the first couple of nights. You know for a fact she’s had to cancel other plans for you—again. You shake your head. “No, go. I kind of want some alone time anyway.”

It’s another cold, bright afternoon. You walk into the feet of your shadow and spread your fingers beside your body as your arms move, watching them elongating out on the pavement in front of you, lost in thought. You’ve been lost in thought a lot, lately.

You’re just past the end of your block when you catch sight of the figure sitting on the stairs outside your building. Long legs in faded jeans are stretched out and crossed over at the ankles, and there’s duct tape around the toe of one sneaker. You slow to a halt on the sidewalk. A woman behind you huffs with irritation, veering around you, a giant paper grocery bag clutched in her arms.

He looks up from his cracked phone screen as you draw level with your door. His hair is as chaotic as ever, stuck up in every direction, except for at the nape of his neck, where it curls gently around in little flicks. He looks tired. He’s always looked tired, the whole time you’ve known him, but you notice it differently now. Like the holes in his jeans, and the bruise on his jaw, and the angry-sore-looking blisters on his knuckles.

He smiles a little, jerking you out of your silent staring. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t wanna just show up unannounced. I’ve been trying to call, but,” he holds his phone up, and you shake your head.

“My phone was—”

“Yeah, I figured.”

The wind lifts the edge of your scarf and shivers under the neck of your coat. There’s something sweet in the air; like cinnamon sugar, maybe someone baking from one of the open windows overhead. “Do you want to come inside?”

His expression is soft as he considers you, looking up through his lashes. “Okay.”

Neither of you speak on the trip upstairs. Your hand accidentally brushes his as you reach out for the elevator buttons, and you both pull away, as awkward and over-polite as strangers.

He stands a respectful distance back as you open your door, and you lead him inside, waving your hand vaguely toward the sofa. “Do you want a drink?”

He folds himself into the seat nearest the window, hunching over and shoving his hands between his knees. A cold drift of sun touches his jaw. “Um, no thanks, it’s cool.”

You sit down beside him, folding your hands across your lap like you’re about to get a class picture taken.

He chews his lip, runs his thumbs over his burned hands. Outside, a car horn beeps. “It’s not because I didn’t trust you,” he starts. “If you’re wondering. I don’t want you thinking that’s the reason.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “You don’t need to explain.”

“I just want you to know—”

“I know.” You try to smile at him, and it feels a little watery. “I get it. I know why you couldn’t tell me.”

His brows bend together just enough to mark out a pained line. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Really. Don’t be.”

It falls silent in your living room. The little clay pinch pot in the centre of the coffee table Bear had brought home from the artists’ market watches you both watching one another; soft-skinned and tender as nervous newborn things.

“You might die doing this,” you finally point out. “One day. All those times you’ve been hurt. You might…not come home.”

He nods at the floor. “Which is why I couldn’t really ask you to, you know. Waste your time with—” he waves his hands vaguely back and forth between your bodies. “It’s not worth it. And, like, trust me, I would never, ever want to drag you into any of the shit I’m involved with. I didn’t mean to fuck you around so long, knowing you wouldn’t...” He looks back at you, his dark eyes soft. “It was just. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry. It was shitty of me. Selfish.”

You stare at him for a few seconds in stunned disbelief. Then you laugh. You don’t mean to, and his head jerks back, startled. “Are you serious?” you manage.

His eyes are huge. “Uh. Yeah?”

You laugh again. It sounds a little manic. “You’re unbelievable.”

He flushes. “Could you maybe quit laughing at me when I’m trying to—”

“Peter. You saved my fucking life. Twice. Even after I was a total asshole to you. You saved me.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Yeah, look, I don’t want you to feel weird about that. Like, it’s totally, one-hundred-percent not a big deal and I never want anybody to feel like—”

“You help people. Strangers. Every day. For nothing. And they aren’t even grateful. The things people write about you.” He hasn’t moved, and you realise you’re talking louder than you need to, considering he’s right in front of you. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met,” you tell him, emphatic, needing him to get it. “You’re a good person, Peter. I’m so sorry I didn’t see that before.” Your voice breaks a little and it’s embarrassing, but not as embarrassing as the fact that your vision has gone blurry and your cheeks feel suddenly too hot.

You stop and breathe for a few moments, willing yourself not to cry. He doesn’t say anything, just studies the edge of the rug as though he’s pretending not to notice, and you’re grateful.

Then, quietly, he takes a breath. “I was going to tell you. Before the fire. I saw May, and she told me she saw you, and that you’d talked, and. I wanted to explain everything.”

You remember the way May had looked that day in the park; her small, sad mouth, and the way she’d spoken slowly like she was choosing each word carefully. “Does she know?”

Peter half-shrugs. “We’ve never talked about it. But, like, I know she knows. And she knows I know she does.” He gives you a little smile. “It’s easier if we both keep pretending we don’t, though.”

“Does anyone else?”

His smile turns tight. “I guess not. Not really.”

“So you’ve been doing this all on your own? The whole time? How?”

He runs his hand back through his hair. “Yeah. Well, I guess I’m pretty good with DIY now, you know? I wasn’t always. I had to learn. Shit went wrong a lot in the beginning. Shit still goes wrong a lot.”

You lean in a little, curling into the cushions. “What’s the hardest part?”

You’re expecting him to say the fear of discovery, or the isolation, or the sheer physical exhaustion. But he wrinkles his nose. “God. The sewing. It’s so hard. And it’s constant. I swear I pop a different seam every day.” His face goes blank for a moment and he looks at you as though a brand new thought has just occurred to him for the first time. “It’s actually really nice. Getting to talk about this.”

“Am I allowed to ask about the outfit?”

He slaps his hands over his face. “You are absolutely fucking not allowed to ask about the outfit.”

Your mouth drops open in outrage. “I wasn’t gonna laugh! I just want to know why—”

“Look, I was going for, like, a velodrome thing. Like for speed and better flexibility and less wind-resistance and then like, anonymity as well, obviously, and originally—”

“What about the, uh, pattern?”

“Yeah, okay, okay, it seemed cool at the time! I was fifteen!”

The thought of Peter as a child, alone, in danger, no doubt even ganglier and nerdier than he is now, sends a fresh pang of sadness through you. You try not to let it show. “Do you eat the webs?”

He stares like you’ve just asked if he’d like to swap heads with you. “What?”

“Certain types of spiders go back and eat their webs after they’re done with them. Like, to replenish the protein they expended making them. Do you ever eat yours?”

The expression on his face is the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. “Uh, no. It’s inorganic. Like, it’s a, like essentially a nylon polymer composite. It’s not edible. I mean, I’ve never tried, but it’s designed to dissolve after a few hours, so I guess if you did really want to eat it, it wouldn’t hurt you…” He trails off, sheepish, looking at you sideways. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, unable to stifle your smile any longer.

He grins and ducks his head. He hasn’t shaved today, you note; there’s a little bit of stubble along his jawline.

Your chest hurts. Seeing him, being close to him, just like before. It pulls open the ache of missing him, turning it from a bruise into a wound. You know you shouldn’t. You tell yourself not to. But you do it anyway.

“I miss you.” Your voice is barely louder than a whisper.

He looks so fucking sad. His eyes are huge and pained and so close, and then they dart down to your lips, and you see it; the precise split-second the urge hits him, then the one after as he fights it, and your heart sinks and you’re about to lean back but then his mouth is on yours and it’s soft and it’s warm and unbearably gentle as his hands sweep up to the base of your neck.  It’s not the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You’re twisted uncomfortably to face him. Your hands lay shocked in your lap, and you’re pretty sure he can hear you attempting not to sniffle too much with your breathing, and you’re so busy worrying about it that you forget to open up to him; his tongue touching the edge of your lips. His fingertips brush the stitches at the back of your head and you flinch, pulling away.  “Oh, shit, sorry, I’m sorry,” he says, visibly mortified.   “It’s okay,” you say. “Didn’t hurt. It’s just sensitive.”

“For kissing you,” he clarifies. “I know we’re not, like…you know. Anymore.”

That hurts. You shake your head. “We could be. We could try.”

“I can’t ask you—"

“No. Don’t do that. What do you want?”

He exhales through his nose and a tiny, pained sound escapes with it. “It’s not that easy—“

“It is. It is that easy. What do you want?”

“You have no idea,” he says, suddenly. “God. You have no fucking idea how bad I want you. I want this. You’re the only thing I. Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes, frustrated. “You just have no idea how bad this could go.”

“I do,” you tell him, gently. “I know exactly how bad it could go. And I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry that happened. It’s so, so fucked up that that happened and I’m so sorry, and I know nothing I can say will ever make any of it any less fucked up, but fucked up things happen. They happen all the time for normal people, too. And fucked up things are going to keep happening and it’s inevitable and it’s part of being alive and that’s why we just need to take that risk every day, and choose to—to try to just be happy in as many stupid fucking hopeless ways as we can anyway, because we deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

He’s staring at you like he wants to believe you. Like he wants to cry. “You need to know,” he says, reaching his hand out, pulling it back. “I can’t promise you this’ll be okay. If you still wanted…I would try. I would try so, so hard for you. Harder than I’ve ever tried at anything. But I—I still just have no way of knowing that it’ll be okay.“

You smile at him, shaky and sure. “That’s any relationship, Parker.”

This time when he kisses you, you’re ready. Your mouth opens eagerly under his, catching the faint metal-salt of his skin, the dryness where his lips are ever-so-slightly windburnt.

All the breath leaves your body in a rush. You shove your hands up through his hair, lifting up onto your knees and sliding across his lap until you’re straddling him on the couch.

He tilts his head back to work his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to find the edges of your bra, and it’s awkward and clumsy and you’re both breathing hard by the time he manages to get your jeans unzipped and his hand cramped into your underwear.

“Holy shit,” you gasp, half-dizzy from kissing without pause. You almost bite him when his fingers find your clit. “Can you—yeah, like that, oh, my God—"

“Hold on, it’d be better if, let me…” he murmurs, frustrated, and you let out what could only be described as a yelp as he lifts your entire weight up to easily shove your jeans and underwear the rest of the way off your legs before settling you back down over his lap.

You’re stuck between trying to grind down against the front of his jeans and trying to give him enough space to work his hand back between your legs, ultimately deciding on the latter as he finds your clit again, this time his attentions unhampered by clothing.

His body hasn’t forgotten yours. It only takes a few moments of searching before he has you melting into the palm of his hand; your bones soft and hot inside you as you roll your eyes closed. It’s easy with him, just like before, but better.

You’re almost close when he eases two fingers inside you, and that’s easy too, so easy, the way you give for him. Your forehead rests against his as your lips come apart; too focused for kissing anymore.

“I missed you,” he breathes, working his wrist. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You flex your thighs as you rock with the movement of his hand, and that’s when you need to touch him, urgently. It takes a little repositioning before you manage to open his jeans and ease his cock out, wrapping your fingers loosely around him.

You feel him tense and shudder as you stroke him, too slow to really get him anywhere, too lost in the way his long, firm fingers curl inside you.

He noses along your jaw, mouthing lazily at your damp skin, his eyes closed, and then he’s there, right where you need him, and you’re clenching and biting down on the sounds trying to escape as you come apart sudden and hard around him.

You’re still loose-limbed and shaky when he pulls his slick fingers free, gently moving your hand out of the way to grasp himself instead. You feel a little guilty; you’d almost forgotten about him straining in front of you, but he doesn’t seem to care as he jerks himself quick and short in his fist. His other hand cups the swell of your ass as he huffs hot breath into your hair, your neck, coming sudden across the inside of your thigh.

You slump your weight against him.

Neither of you speak for a while. Your hand is curled between your bodies, trapped where it’s warm and you can feel his heart slowing in his chest. He runs his hand absently from your hip to your thigh, then back again.

“Peter,” you murmur.

“Mmm.”

“You do need to promise me one thing, though.”

He moves, just enough that he can look up at you. His cheeks are flushed. “What?”

“We can never. And I mean never. Tell Bear we fucked on her couch.”

His eyes widen in horror. “Oh, my God. She already hates me.”

“I know. But it’s okay, because we’re not gonna tell her.”

“I just don’t know if I can keep that secret; I’m not good at subterfuge, y’know, I’m just not that kinda guy—"

“Yeah, yeah, okay—"

“—and you should see me under pressure; I fold like origami—"

You kiss him again, just to shut him up, and feel his lips curling up against yours.

Your thighs feel sticky and gross, and you’re starting to get cold, and when you get up you nearly fall over from the cramp in your leg from sitting so awkwardly, but you’re too happy to care in the slightest.

You stand together in the bathroom, cleaning each other up. Every time his eyes meet yours in the mirror you both smile again, giggling and getting in each other’s way, like idiots.

It takes twice as long as it should to get back out to the couch, and you’re hoping he’ll curl up with you again but then you catch him glancing toward the window. “You need to go,” you say. It’s not really a question.

He hedges. “I kind of do, but…”

You offer him a little smile. “It’s okay. Go.”

He nods. You walk him to the door, where he pauses. He chews at his thumbnail, looking at you sideways again from under his eyelashes.

You watch him for a few seconds, waiting. “What?” you finally say.

He presses his lips together, runs his hand through his hair. “So. It’s probably, like, kind of weird. To ask. At this…uh, juncture.”

He’s nervous, you realise. It’s excruciatingly endearing. You nudge him. “I feel like weird’s kind of our thing.”

He grins. “Yeah. I guess. So. I was gonna ask if you’d like to go out. For dinner. Friday night.”

There’s absolutely no way to prevent the smile slowly pulling at your mouth. “Peter. Are you asking me on a date?”

He laughs, a little self-conscious huff. “Uh, yeah. Like. I mean, I wanted to way sooner. But. I guess I wanna try doing things properly this time. If you want.”

You can think of a thousand different things to say, but most of them are embarrassing, so you settle for keeping it simple. “Yes. Fuck yes. Obviously.”

He blinks. “Oh, okay, awesome, holy shit. Okay. Should we…? I don’t have your new number.”

“Oh, yeah, I need to get yours again too.” You pull your phone out and make a new contact before handing it to him.

He stares at your screen for a second, then he snorts. “You have me in your phone as ‘p.p.’?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Why? What do you have me as?”

He laughs again, quiet, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He hands your phone back. He takes a few steps out the door, then he sticks his hands in his pockets. “So. I’ll see you?”

“You will,” you tell him, watching the way his jaw juts crookedly when he smiles.

He’s halfway to the elevator, walking backwards, his hands still in his pockets when he calls back to you. “Friday, Miss Jersey.”

You laugh. “Quit disturbing my neighbours.”

You stay there long after he’s gone, leaning against your doorframe, smiling to yourself, aching with stupid, giddy affection.

#peter parker x f!reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter parker x f!reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #tasm fanfic #tasm fanfiction #tasm imagine #peter parker imagine #tasm!peter parker imagine #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter fanfiction

274 notes · View notes

a-french-coconut · 19 days

Text

Travis Stoll (Part 6)

As soon they both enter, the entrance closes by itself, leaving them in complete darkness

"Will, do the thing."

"I'm not doing the thing, it's ridiculous and embarrassing."

"Dead people don't judge William."

"You judge enough for the lot of them."

"Oh by Hermes, I told you once that you looked like a living lamp !"

"Nobody wants to be compared to an object !"

"Fine, fine, I apologise. Happy now ?"

"No."

"You're insufferable."

"I am not, everybody would have the same reaction as-"

"Shut up."

"What ?"

"Did you hear that ?"

"Travis, this is not the time to be joking."

"Don't be ridiculous Willy, a good joke is always welcome. Now lighten up, please, so that I can see if we are about to be a monster's delicious meal."

A beat passes before Travis hears Will sighs next to him in the darkness.

His friend is now glowing a soft golden light, flickering at the rate of his heartbeat and illuminating the underground corridor.

"Not a word.", warns Will when he notices Travis smiling.

Footsteps coming right toward them stop him from answering to his friend.

Quickly, Travis pushes Will behind a large rock and urges him to stop glowing.

As darkness engulfs them again, the sound gets closer and closer until it's right in front of them.

"You should really stop trying to be on stealth missions amore mio, you suck at them."

Will's glowing comes back with such force, Travis is pretty sure his vision won't ever recover.

"Nico !", exclaims happily Will as he goes hug his boyfriend.

"How did you know we would be here ?", he asks the son of Hades still busy with his own personal sunny leech.

"Clovis sent me a dream about your quest," Nico's face darkens, "I promise you Travis, I'll help you as much as I can to save Connor."

"I know what is it like to lose your sibling after all", he says with a sardonic smile.

Right, what was her name again ? Biana ? No, Bianca. Bianca Di Angelo.

"Thank you Nico, really, I mean it."

"You're welcome. Now come on, we have to hurry up, we don't have a lot of time and Persephone may be hard to convince."

Connor's fate looms over Travis like the sword of Damocles, a constant reminder that his brother could die any moment from now.

How much time has passed since they enter the Underworld ?

How much has he left ?

Dad, I know I've been asking a lot of things but please grant one last favor. Keep me updated about Connor's health, send dreams or whatever other signals.

He doesn't have any offerings to burn for his prayer to reach his father, he can only hope Hermes is paying attention to him.

"You're right Neeks, lead the way."

"Don't call me Neeks, Stoll."

"Do you prefer Nicolas ?"

"Oh I'm keeping that one."

"No I don't and Solace if I ever hear calling me by that name I-"

"Ouch Will, you're on second name basis."

"You're both insufferable."

"For the last time, I am not !"

Despite the sorrow weighing on his heart, Travis cackles the whole way to Hades' Palace at Will and Nico's constant bickering.

part 7 posted !

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #will solace #connor stoll #travis stoll #heroes of olympus #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace glows in the dark

29 notes · View notes

girldewar · 2 months

Note

if theres anything relevant to the eyes emoji i would enjoy a snippet!

oh you know me of course i can work something out for the eyes emoji :3 get deweyed! from that time that connor got his dick stolen </3

“Three fucking goals.” Connor still can’t believe it.

“Should’ve been four,” says Brandon, lips mashed against his shoulder, making their way up to his neck.

Connor tilts his head to give Brandon room. He likes the feel of it, Brandon towering behind him and craning down, his stupid dirtstache rough against Connor’s skin. Brandon’s teeth graze where his tendon raises from his collarbone and Connor sighs.

“So hot tonight,” Brandon says mindlessly. Connor knows he hasn’t been thinking coherently since before the end of the game, but it still makes him laugh.

“You’re so out of it,” he says, but it comes out affectionate, pleased. Connor scored three (four) goals and Brandon can barely handle it, huh.

Brandon bites down. Before he can register what he’s doing, Connor’s hand flies up to grip Brandon’s hair, jerking him away from Connor’s skin. His teeth drag away, rough and bruising, and clack together as soon as he’s off. Brandon keens, this needy, pliant noise. Connor turns around and kisses him.

As nice as it had been, Brandon just — he needs, sometimes. Something to hold him back. And Connor needs that too, sometimes, to be what Brandon pushes against.

Brandon sighs into Connor’s mouth, lets Connor drag him down and push him back until his hips collide with the trainers’ table, because Brandon wouldn’t let them wait until they got home, because he bundled Connor out of the locker room and fuck, they have to be quick about this, but Connor just — he pulls back.

Brandon’s so flushed, pink and dazed, eyes dark and so warm. His hands twitch where they’ve grabbed Connor’s bare waist. Connor feels this bubble in his chest, pushing out breath, pushing out everything until it’s just light air, until it’s just all these feelings he has no idea what to do with. This burning he’s got no way of putting out.

“Let me,” says Brandon, still out of it, but he sounds sure.

“What,” says Connor. A little mean.

But Brandon just says, “Let me,” and sinks to his knees, back of his head resting against the edge of the trainers’ table.

Connor stares down at him, and he doesn’t dare breathe. “Yeah,” he says, big gust of an exhale. “Okay.”

Brandon grins, sleazy and stupid, and Connor stops himself from slapping the look off his face by fisting one hand in Brandon’s hair and yanking his head back so Connor’s towering over him, so he has no choice but to meet Connor’s gaze.

“What’re you gonna do,” Brandon says, smile still broad and lazy, goading. “Hit me?”

Connor laughs, harsh bark of a sound. “No. You’d like that too much.”

Brandon makes a face, not like Connor’s wrong, but like he doesn’t want to hear it. Whatever. He said it first, asshole.

“You would,” Connor says, because he’s never found a bruise he didn’t want to dig into. “You’d come before you could even get my dick in your mouth.”

Brandon starts trying to undo the knot of Connor’s sweats with his head still tipped back, hands fumbling over Connor’s waistband and catching the skin of his lower stomach with his fingernails. Connor tightens his grip on Brandon’s hair, shakes him around a bit.

“Really, B? No comeback?” Connor still feels light and airy, not really in control of what’s coming out of his mouth, not really thinking about it, either. He feels like he’s watching the scene from above his body, looking over his own shoulder to see Brandon there, bright red and angry.

“Fuck you,” Brandon says half-heartedly.

Connor laughs. “Yeah, bud.” He shifts his hips out of the way and Brandon lets his hands fall, just kneeling there looking up at Connor, sweaty and frustrated and Connor cannot stop himself from craning down and kissing him, biting into Brandon’s mouth until he’s gasping around it.

When Connor pulls back, Brandon’s just staring up at him, eyes bright. Connor’s whole head feels like a hive of bees. Brandon looks fucking reverent.

“Go on,” Connor says. He wants to see Brandon do it. He wants Brandon to have to do it himself. He releases his hold on Brandon’s hair.

Dutifully, Brandon gets back to work on Connor’s pants.

#ask #anon #rpf talk #2126

26 notes · View notes

kekaki-cupcakes · 9 months

Note

Hiiii, hope u're doing well :)

Can I request a slow burn-strangers to lovers connor stoll x mortal reader please?

( no headcanon, just a one shot 🫡)

Like how they met, their first kiss... AND connor reveling he's a half blood

A fem reader or gender neutral is okay

Okay so this has been sitting in my drafts since the stone ages but I had a burst of motivation so here's 2.9k of teasing and fluff

It's not really a slow burn because it's a one shot but it's implied that it happens over time so yk yk. And I checked all the boxes you get first interactions a make-out session and the big reveal :)

Cafe au but it's not an au--- Connor Stoll x gn mortal!reader

»»————-　★　————-««

“We’ve got a new kid today, you wanna show him the ropes?”

You finished ripping the receipt out of the machine and smiled politely at the customer who took their change and moved to the side. The receipt made a tearing sound as you pushed it onto the metal spike [you didn’t actually know what it was called, you realized], and then spun around, “oh thank god, yes please.”

“That’s what I thought,” Maria chuckled, wrapping an apron around her middle and pining his name tag to the front of the green material that had an odd shaped stain on the pocket. “You hate the till.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Hopefully the new kid, he should be here in a minute, I did say four thirty.” He looked up at the clock behind the queue of customers waiting for their coffees that read four forty, and then glanced towards the glass doors.

“What’s his name?” You ask, resetting the price on the cash register and taking off the stupid little cap whoever was at the til had to wear. You groaned, “oh please don’t tell me it’s his first job, i can’t explain how to count change to another pimply little-”

“It’s his first job, just moved to New York,” she said, lifting up a sticky note and reading the note underneath it on the whiteboard near the mops. “And his name is… Cecil Markowitz.”

“I’m here, I’m here!”

“We noticed.” Maria muttered drily, pulling the cap over her jagged strawberry blonde hair.

A blonde kid, maybe fifteen or so, panted on the other side of the counter. He was in a school uniform that he tugged a black hoodie over the top of as he spoke at the speed of light. “Sorry, my brother had to drive me and he ran like four red lights so we wouldn’t be late but then-”

“Then you shut up so your amazing big brother —who did not have to drive you here by the way, I have other things I could be doing— wouldn’t get arrested?” Another boy asked with a raised eyebrow, swinging car keys around his pointer finger. You had to pay a little more attention to him than the bouncing blonde currently eyeing the tip jar, because wow, the jawline he had…

“You have to look after us Connor! That’s the whole agreement!” Cecil hissed up at his brother.

“Zip it, short stuff.” Connor [you liked the name] smirked, then turned to you. His eyes widened for a moment and you ignored the fact you immediately noticed they were blue. He blinked a few times and then cleared his throat, “Um. uh, I’ll get a black coffee… please.”

You just shrugged at him, and motioned for Cecil to follow you into the kitchens, where the fridge foods were whipped up. “Don’t order from me, I'm showing short stuff around.”

A look of horror dawned on the new employee’s face. “No, not you too!”

»»————-　★　————-««

“I’m sorry, but we don’t serve pizza here, there’s a dominoes a few blocks away if you-”

“No, I want to order one here, thank you.” The customer said to you with a frown and that patronizing look you got ten times a day just for being a teenager. “I know what I’m talking about, I’ve gotten pizza here a million times, and I'd like two large meatlovers.”

You stared blankly at the woman in front of you for a moment and wondered if it was too late to drown yourself in caramel sauce just so you wouldn’t have to deal with this lady. You take a deep breath and bring out that perfectly fake smile again to-

“Oh Fucknuggets! Miss, that chick just ran off with your purse! You’d better go chase her down!”

“What?” She shrieked, and reached for her big red leather bag and went pale under her orangey powdered face. “Oh for heaven's sake!”

The woman was out the door immediately, chasing down four different people that had just left the cafe. She waved her arms wildly and wailed like a duck that had just been stepped on.

Connor watched her leave with an amused expression on his face you had to quickly pull your eyes away from. He reached into the pockets of his spiderman hoodie [SpiderHam, to be specific] and pulled out a blinged up silver purse, flicking through the contents with interest.

He turned to you and held up an ID card with that smug expression that made your stomach feel like you’d had too much bubble tea. “I reckon I could pull it off, in the right lighting.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t see that.” You said quickly with your eyes narrowed, but Connor pulled the wads of cash out and stuffed it into the tip jar as he turned to the glass double doors.

“Hey!”

Cecil nearly stumbled into another customer and you motioned to the back of the cafe, pulling his apron off the rack and handing it to him as he took off his yellow beanie, which for some reason had a lot of little sun’s sewn around the edges. “Hey short stuff, you can start by taking the trash out.”

He visibly sunk, tying the apron around his middle and sighing.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Definitely don’t go over the fence to the back of the dollar store because it would be a terrible idea to see the baby racoons living in the recycling bin.”

Connor grinned, watching his little brother speed out of the room with black bags of rubbish in his hands. “So… Can I order from you today?”

“As long as it’s not a pizza, go ahead.”

“...What’s your favorite?” Connor asked, leaning on the bench littered in plastic cup lids and receipts, with his chin in his hands. He was lucky there wasn’t a queue behind him, but you probably would’ve let him sit there and distract you anyway.

You just tapped away at the ipad, sending the last of the order’s over to Maria, who was making one of the matcha teas. “Not a black coffee, if that’s what you're asking.”

“No seriously, what is it?” he said, and you felt yourself get hot when he glanced somewhere a bit lower than your eyes. Not in a gross way, but holy shit when did his own eyes get that lidded? “Maybe I’ll try it sometime…”

“Are you asking to kiss me or do you actually want an iced strawberry tea?” You blurted out, hand frozen over the screen in front of you.

Connor went red in a matter of seconds and shot up, his eyes certainly not lidded anymore. “Oh look at the time I have to go make sure my goldfish doesn’t drown,” He yelped, tripping over untied shoelaces and scrambling to the door.

“Careful… You’re looking at him like you look at those racoons.” Maria muttered as he walked past with a little grin.

»»————-　★　————-««

You dumped your school bag on a bench in the corner of the kitchen, but before you could ask Jerry if there was a new order you were supposed to pick up some new ingredients [the amount of times Connor ordered a black coffee when he dropped off Cecil meant they were seriously out of it[, someone banged on the back door.

It was pouring with rain outside, but you eased open the door and peaked out into the stormy weather, then frowned at the figure. “What are you doing back here-”

You stopped in your tracks and choked, nearly dropping the drink in your hands. Cecil rubbed his hands together to avoid frostbite, a thin line of blood down the side of his face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and thin patches of golden powder covered it, and his clothes.

He grinned, wiping his nose. “If it’s any consolation… This isn’t my blood?”

“Maria’ll clean you up, go.” You open the door properly and shove him into the warmth, then shut it behind you and step out into the biting wind that ripped though your green apron, and marched up to the car parked near the dumpster.

Holding your hand over your eyes so you weren’t blinded by the headlights, you yelled at the driver. “Why the fuck did short stuff just come out of a fucking apocalypse movie?”

Connor leant over the passenger seat and opened the door with a totally fake innocent smile. You didn’t think he could look innocent. Hot, on the other hand…He still looked hot with blood smeared across his cheek and something shiny underneath his fingernails, apparently. He shrugged one shoulder “I mean, it isn’t our blood?”

“Connor.” You muttered, crossing your arms and squinting through the mist swirling around your feet. You looked down and had to step out of a puddle with a grimace.

Connor blinked and replied instantly, as if this was something he had to do a lot. “Do you want the technically legal version, the version that’ll make you happy, or the-”

You cut him off and glared, rain clinging to your eyelashes. “The truth.”

Connor thought for a moment and then gave you an apprehensive look. “There was a feral Harpy in the backseat of the car that popped out when we got to the intersection two blocks over.”

You sighed. “I said the truth-”

“You don’t believe me.” His voice was faint, and somehow hurt. He sounded resigned though, like he was expecting it. The look on his face made you want to climb into the pretty beat up car and grab his face and tell him you believed him so much and forever just so he’d look happy again.

Maybe if you let him talk. He could be referencing something you hadn’t seen, you reasoned. “Was the harpy like a monster or a furry?”

“Well when you think about it harpy’s really are just furry’s, but yeah it was an actual monster.” Connor said simply, and then he chewed on his thumbnail nervously “Uh, do you wanna… hop in? You look like my brother when he stuck a huntsman in Annabeth’s pillow case.”

“What does spider pranks have to do with being soaked?” You mutter, not really meaning for it to be a question. You climbed into the passenger seat, brushing pools of water off you and wiping your nose.

“You can’t even imagine.”

You raise an eyebrow at Connor. “I work in customer service, try me.”

“My dad is a god.” He blurted out, then froze and turned away from you with an odd expression, his gaze trained on the rain outside.

“Are you talking about the Romans and the Egyptians, or are you Jesus?”

“Greeks, actually.” Connor said through gritted teeth, then his eyebrows shot up and that familiar tone you might have thought about a few times seeped back into his voice. He untensed and grinned at you“One of my buddy’s did come back from the dead actually… but I don’t think Jesus would like him very much.”

“Why?”

“He’s dating one of my other buddies.”

“Oh.” You blinked, but you weren’t really sure what this conversation had to do with Connor and Cecil being attacked. “Good for him.”

“My dad’s Hermes.” Connor said suddenly, sucking in a breath and closing his eyes. When you didn’t answer, too focused on the way his face looked when he scrunched up his eyes, he glanced at you again with a cautious smile, as if your reaction really mattered to him. “Surprise?”

You thought for a moment, actually considered it, and “Yeah. That checks out,”

“Whaddaya mean? I don’t have wings on my shoes!”

“Isn’t he the god of like, traveling and stealing shit?” You ask, smiling back at him as reassuring as you could, soaked to the bone sitting in a boy’s car six minutes before your shift started. “Dude, you drive your brother back and forth across New York four times a week. And you stole that lady's purse.”

‘Oh yeah. That was fun,” he sighed, and sunk in the driver's seat. He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead and closed his blue eyes, relief painted across his face.

You wiped your nose again, sure that you’d get a cold tomorrow just from standing in the lovely New York weather for more than a few seconds. A song played on the radio quietly, and you recognised it from the playlist Maria played on the speakers in the cafe sometimes.

The lyrics went something like ‘I rob and I kill to keep him with me,

I'll do anything for that boy’. When you looked over at Connor, you gulped.

Connor glanced at you from underneath his hand, and then looked down at the drink still clutched in your hands. The pink tone of it matched the fluffy strawberry’s hanging from the rear view mirror, and it was making your fingers hurt with the cold.

He smirked. “Are you supposed to drink while you’re working?”

“You make it sound like I'm doing shots behind the counter.” You shot back with a glare, and then felt your face heat up as you spoke. “And uh… it’s not… I didn’t make it for myself.”

“There’s an angry old lady in there, you know?”

This was excruciating. You ducked your head and bit your lip a little, looking out the window so you wouldn’t have to see Connor’s face when that stupidly hot smirk spread across his lips. “Uh… I didn’t make it for a customer, either…”

“Is that-”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Connor was wide eyes and slack jawed when you turned back to him, a dark blush across his cheeks that you wanted to take a photo of because goddam he was cute, but you knew you wouldn’t be forgetting the sight any time soon. He opened his mouth to talk, his eyes no longer at, well… eye level.

You put the drink into the holder between the seats and followed his gaze. “Just kiss me.”

You hadn’t seen that smile before.

His hands were so warm on your jaw, as hot as the tight feeling in your chest that melted quickly. It happened so fast you couldn’t really register anything until you realized Connor was halfway between your seats with his teeth on your bottom lip and his soft hair threaded between your fingers.

You used it to tug him closer, as close as he could and then more, because he was warm and soft and you could feel his grin through his lips that moved against your own in rhythm that ebbed and flowed. He slid his hands off you and you nearly pulled them back, until Connor was hugging you tight around your middle, his fingers knotting through the bow tied on your apron.

You chewed on his lip, which felt puffy and pulsing under your touch, but you kept kissing him, breaking away every few seconds to breathe, but you couldn’t not press your lips along his jaw. He was just too much. You had to kiss him everywhere and pull on his hair and tilt his head back and melt into his touch like you’d die if you didn’t.

Connor sighed into your mouth and gulped, you could feel his Adam's apple bob under the palm of your hand as you pushed him back gently by his neck. You got up on your knees as he blinked once or twice, like he’d been in a trance. “You took that all very well,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll freak out later when it sinks in.” You muttered back, pushing him back into the driver's seat where he’d begun. He made an odd noise and tightened his arms around your waist, ducking his head and when he pouted you couldn’t help but slide over the cupholder and sit on his lap, as if you hadn’t been planning to do so the whole time.

Then he frowned, “Wait, you’ll freak-”

“Shhhh,” you said, pressing a finger to his soft lips. He shut up immediately. You glanced behind you at the console, checking the time. “I have four and a half minutes til I have to start, we can discuss this later.”

“Deal,” Connor breathed, dragging your hands down to his neck again and looking up with vague out eyes. You grinned at him and went back to wiping that stupid smirk off his lips.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Your boyfriends here.”

You looked up from the kitchen counter you were wiping down after an accident with the tub of coconut shavings, “Why?”

“I’m assuming he’s here for you, short stuff doesn’t have a shift til the weekend.” Maria checked the whiteboard and glanced out the swinging doors. You moved to peek over her shoulder and saw Connor standing by the doors, swinging his car keys around his pointer finger absentmindedly. He was wearing that spiderman hoodie again, the one you’d accidentally tipped black coffee down the front of once when you’d worn it.

You grinned, if you finished up cleaning and took the trash out, you’d be done in five minutes and you’d get to follow him to his car that surely wasn’t road safe and then go wherever it was he’d planned this time.

“Go. But tomorrow you have to stop the racoons from eating the tires off my Harley.” Maria sighed, crossing his arms and motioning to the exit.

“I love you.”

He raised his eyebrows “Was that directed towards me or the boy-”

“Both.”

»»————-　★　————-««

#pjo fandom #pjo #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percyjacksonfandomx reader #Connor stoll #connorstoll #Connor Stoll x reader #Connor Stoll x you #Connor Stoll c y/n #the Stoll twins #hermes cabin #coffee shop au

107 notes · View notes

herrmannhalsteadproduction · 4 months

Text

That Herrmann/Halstead DNA (Chapter Six)

Summary: This is Part Twenty-One of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Assault, Stabbing, Gunshot Wounds, Blood and Injury, Whump, Trauma, Eventual Hopeful Ending

A/N: I received my degree from the medical school of Television Drama which means while things might not (*cough* will not *cough*) be accurate, they will be exciting. *jazz hands*

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Two minutes earlier

***

Maggie

“It’s just down this way,” Maggie said as she led Ethan, April, and Nat to Bex’s room. They’d all finished their shifts around the same time and none of them felt right about leaving until they’d had a chance to check in on her.

And on Will and Connor and Herrmann and the whole gang really.

She shook her head. Her heart ached for them.

At least they knew Bex was going to be okay and they’d heard that her friend made it through surgery. Now they could all focus on healing.

Maggie went to knock on Bex’s door when they reached it, frowning when she saw it was open a crack. She still tapped on it quietly before pushing it open—

“Oh, my god!” Maggie gasped at the sight in front of her and rushed forward with the others on her heels.

Bex was sprawled back unconscious against her pillows as a thin stream of blood trickled down the side of her face. Ethan and Nat pushed ahead of Maggie and instantly began a careful examination.

“Head lac’s not too bad,” Ethan said, gently shifting Bex’s hair. “Gonna need a couple of stitches though.”

“Pupils are equal and reactive.” Nat leaned in close and patted Bex’s cheek. “Bex? Come on, Bex, wake up.”

There was a soft groan followed by Bex’s eyelids fluttering, struggling to open.

“What the hell happened?” April whispered to Maggie. “Where is everyone? Why is she all alone?”

All questions she’d love the answers to herself. “I don’t know, but we—”

“Will,” Bex moaned, struggling to sit up.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Ethan shushed her as he tried to keep her still. “You need to stay put.”

“No, no, you don’t—” Bex pushed his hands away. “Ty. He has a gun. He took Will—”

The bang of a gunshot stole all of the air out of the room.

***

Jay

Jay hurried down the stairs with Hailey close behind him. The entire unit had split up to sweep the building alongside security, but no one had spotted Ty yet.

Part of him wanted to believe that was a good thing. That maybe Ty wasn’t headed their way.

But Jay knew better.

Hailey was right. Ty wasn’t going to let Emery go and the clock was ticking on them finding him before he got to her.

Bex’s floor was their next stop. Jay pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway. “I’m going to check in on Bex and let Will know what’s going on,” he said to Hailey.

“I’ll come with,” she said. “I’d like to—”

They both froze as a sound both familiar and yet horribly out of place tore down the hall.

Between one heartbeat and the next, they were both off and running in the direction of the shot.

***

Mouse

Mouse was halfway up the stairwell when he heard it.

His body reacted before his brain did. The shot rang out and he was already running, desperately trying to get to Bex as his mind managed to cobble together one thought.

Don’t let it be her.

***

Connor

The gun went off, deafening inside of the elevator, and Connor braced himself for the pain.

Pain that never came.

He opened his eyes on a shaky breath. Blinking through the spray of blood that had somehow made its way onto his face.

Ty stared back at him with wild eyes, arm still stretched out with the gun in his hand. He jolted when the elevator doors started to close and Connor flinched at the movement.

“Fuck this,” Ty muttered, before stepping back and running off down the hall.

Connor stood there, stunned, until a ragged gasp came from the ground and he looked down to see Will, lying there, and...

Oh.

There was the pain.

“Will!” Connor dropped to his knees beside him, pressing his hands into the rapidly spreading stain on his scrubs, trying to stem the bleeding. Will groaned at the touch, shaking his head.

“No—”

“I’m sorry,” Connor said. “You know I have to—”

“No, not me—” Will gritted his teeth. He reached up to grab at Connor’s wrist. “Bex. He hit her. She—”

“I’ll make sure she’s okay, but right now, stopping you from bleeding out is the priority.” Connor bit off a curse as the elevator doors tried to close on them again. “I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt.”

He got his arms under Will and pulled him out into the hallway. Will’s cry of pain rang in his ears as Connor whispered apologies, trying to move him as efficiently as possible.

“Help!” Connor called out as he got Will repositioned. “I need help over here! Now!” ***

Bex

“Will!” Bex screamed, lurching forward at the sound of the shot. Steady hands pushed her back. “We have to go! We have to help him!”

“We don’t know what’s happening,” Ethan said. “We can’t charge out into an active shooter situation. And you are not leaving that bed.” He shot a look at Natalie who kept her spot beside Bex with a firm nod. “Everyone stay back. I’m going to lock the door.”

“No,” Bex cried, sagging into Nat’s hold. “Ty took him. He—Will went so he wouldn’t take me—and now he—he needs help—” She sobbed, trying to get the right words out so they’d understand and stop wasting time and go and help him.

“Help!” Connor’s voice came through the doorway, faint, but clear. “I need help over here! Now!”

Ethan wrenched the door open and ran out.

“I’ll go,” April called out over her shoulder as she followed. “You two stay with Bex.”

“No,” Bex looked up at Nat and Maggie. “I’m okay. Please, go help them.”

The two of them had a silent conversation over her head. “We’re not leaving you,” Maggie said. “But I’ll take a look and see if I can tell what’s happening.”

Bex swallowed a groan as pain shot through her head as soon as she nodded her agreement. She did her best not to let it show. She had to know if Will—if he was okay.

Maggie stepped over to the doorway and poked her head out into the hall. Whatever she saw had her inhaling sharply. Natalie walked over briskly to join her.

Bex’s head was swimming. He had to be okay.

He had to be.

Ty couldn’t take him too.

Not Will.

She needed to see for herself. Bex forced her body to sit up and got her legs over the side of the bed. The whimper she couldn’t quite smother got Maggie and Natalie’s attention, but by then Bex had already managed to get to her feet.

“No, Bex! What are you doing?”

She tried to tell them that she needed to check on Will. Tried to wave them off as they rushed toward her, but then her legs were buckling and she felt herself going sideways, losing consciousness before she hit the floor.

***

Mouse

Mouse burst out through the stairwell door into the hallway and came face to face with a sweaty, shaking asshole.

This is the one, Mouse’s brain screamed. He hurt Bex.

Ty reared back at the sight of him, thrown for a moment before his face hardened and he lifted his arm.

One with a fucking gun in his hand.

Mouse didn’t give him a chance to point it at him. He stepped into his space, disarming Ty swiftly and passing the gun back to Ed who had come up behind them.

Ty yelled in frustration, struggling in Mouse’s grip and a dark part of Mouse, the one who wanted this man’s blood, loosened his hold.

Come on. He watched as Ty straightened up. Saw him weighing his options.

Go for it, you piece of shit.

Mouse saw the moment Ty decided to strike, blocking the hit easily and lashing out with one of his own. Ty doubled over, clutching at his stomach. Mouse followed it up with a solid punch across his jaw.

“That was for Emery,” he said as Ty staggered back. Another blow had Ty’s eyes rolling back as he fell to the ground. “And that was for Bex.” Mouse turned back to Ed. “You good here?”

“Yup,” Ed said, leaning against the wall as he unloaded the gun. “I’ve got this. You go—”

“Help! I need help over here! Now!”

Mouse was already running down the hall. He slowed down as he neared the elevator, seeing Connor kneeling down beside Will and blood—so much blood.

Ethan and April came running from Bex’s room and immediately dove in to help Connor.

Will had been shot.

But he’d—he’d been with Bex. So was she—

Mouse’s breath came quicker as he stopped himself from finishing that thought.

“Mouse,” Will whispered and Connor’s head whipped up to look at him.

“Good, you’re here,” he said, all tense business as he focused on Will’s injuries. “Go check on Bex, please. Will needs to know someone’s with her.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Mouse said, meeting Will’s eyes. “I’ve got her.”

Will nodded weakly before passing out cold.

“And I’ve got him,” Connor said, barely sparing Mouse half a glance. “Go.”

Trusting Connor to be as true to his word as Mouse was to his, he took off again.

Straight to Bex.

***

Jay

The hall seemed to stretch on forever as Jay ran as fast as he could, heart in his throat as he braced himself for whatever he was going to walk in on this time.

Images of Bex battered and bruised were still so fresh in his mind.

He didn’t know what he’d do if—

If he could handle—

No.

Jay skidded to a stop as he reached the elevator, pushing his way through a huddle of doctors and nurses—stepping around a puddle of blood—

Again.

“Will,” he managed to croak out as he tripped forward, watching his brother get loaded onto a gurney. His face so incredibly pale.

“We have to get him up to surgery, Jay,” Connor said, already moving toward the open elevator. He didn’t even look up, not able to take his eyes or his hands off of Will. A spray of blood covered his face and chest. He looked…

Determined.

Jay could work with determined.

He stepped back, giving them the space to load Will up. Connor spared him a single glance and Jay nodded at him.

I’m trusting you with him.

Connor nodded back, immediately returning his focus to Will as the doors closed.

Jay looked around, eyes landing on April in the middle of the still unfolding chaos and made his way over to her. Hailey followed, a solid presence at his side.

“April.” Her eyes snapped up at him as he approached and Jay caught the slight tremor of her hands. “What happened?” he asked, softening his voice.

“That guy, um, Ty,” she stammered out. “He found Bex’s room—”

“What—”

Hailey stopped him from running off. “We need to know everything,” she murmured and she was right. He fucking hated it, but she was right.

“Um, he, uh, he knocked her out, but Nat and Maggie are with her right now and I think she’s okay,” April continued. “She said something about him taking Will. I don’t know exactly what happened, but we heard the shot and then Connor was calling for help. I think—I think Mouse knocked that Ty guy out down the hall.” She jerked a nod over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, that’s—that’s all I know.”

“No, that’s—thank you.” Jay gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze and then hurried down the hall to where April said Ty was.

And where he was actually spread out on the floor, semi-conscious with a nice-sized welt already forming on his face. Mouse’s friend stood over him, pieces of a disassembled gun in his hands.

“You’re gonna want these,” he said, handing it all over to Hailey.

The stairwell door behind them burst open and the rest of his team came spilling out into the hall. Voight’s sharp eyes took in the scene in front of him and down the hall. “Halstead,” he said. “Upton.”

The what the hell? was left unspoken.

But Jay—he honestly didn’t have any answers for him.

He was done.

He just needed to be with his family.

“Sir—”

“We’ve got this, Jay,” Voight cut him off. “Go be with Bex. Upton can fill me in and I’ll check on you later.”

Jay could only nod.

He left them there and walked off toward Bex’s room. No running. He needed minute. To get himself together and figure out how he was going to face Bex and tell her…

Tell her what?

That Will was hurt? Dying?

That he’d been too late to help his siblings again?

Jay dragged a hand down his face, scrubbing the tears out of his eyes.

Footsteps came running down the hallway, slowing as they pulled up beside him and he looked over to see Hailey walking along beside him. She didn’t look at him; just kept her gaze forward as she walked in step.

Jay sniffed and let out a shaky breath.

They headed for Bex’s room.

Together.

***

Bex

“Bex. Bex!” Someone was patting at her face and Bex tried to brush them off, but she couldn’t move. Everything felt heavy. It was—something was wrong. What was—

“Will,” she gasped, forcing her eyes open and then flinching back at the harsh lights.

“He’s in good hands,” Maggie said. “You just need to stay put, okay?”

Bex didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to, but then her stomach heaved. “Gon’ be sick,” she managed to mumble before turning to the side. Natalie had the little garbage can under her lightning quick and managed to catch it all.

Pain lanced through Bex’s head as she fell back into Maggie’s arms.

“Just rest for a minute, sweetie,” Maggie said quietly, holding a hand over Bex’s eyes to help shield her from the bright overheads.

“Will,” Bex whispered. “What’s—”

“Bex!” Mouse’s voice rang out in the room and both Nat and Maggie shushed him. Bex felt him get close to her and she nudged Maggie’s hand out of the way so she could squint at him. He was knelt beside her, face stricken as he reached out before pulling his hands back. “Are you—uh, what, uh, what can I—”

“We’re sitting here for a moment,” Maggie said. “And then you’re going to help me get Bex back into bed. She’s got a bad knock on the head. Mild concussion, from the looks of it.”

“It was Ty,” Bex gritted out, grasping for Mouse’s hand. He held onto hers gently and shuffled closer. “Will went out with him and we heard a shot.” Bex was—she was so scared to even ask, but she had to know. “Was it—was it Will? Is he hurt?”

Mouse stared down at their hands for a moment before finally meeting her eyes. “He’s alive,” Mouse said softly and Bex sobbed again at that because alive…alive didn’t mean not hurt.

“Ty shot him,” Mouse continued, knowing she needed to hear it all. “But Connor was there—and he’s okay! He’s not hurt, but he was right there and he’s helping Will. Ethan and April were there too. Connor’s got him.”

Connor.

Bex couldn’t quite get her tears under control yet, but she could breathe a little easier at that. Connor had Will. No one would fight harder for him than Connor.

“We got Ty,” Mouse continued. “Ed’s watching him and I expect the team is there now so don’t worry about that.”

“…Ed?” She must have a concussion because that didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll tell you the whole story later,” Mouse said. “The important thing is that Ty’s not going to be hurting anyone else.”

Bex hated that part of her couldn’t believe that.

She took a shaky breath and flinched as a stab of pain went through her side.

“Can we—is it okay to move her now?” Mouse asked Maggie. “This can’t be comfortable.”

“I fixed the bed,” Nat’s voice came from somewhere on the left. “We can bring her up.”

The three of them moved her as carefully as they could, but it was still an excruciating ordeal. Bex tried to muffle her cries, holding her breath despite Maggie’s repeated instructions not to.

Mouse looked as wrecked as she felt by the time they got her in place. “Where’s the doctor?” he demanded. “She needs stitches right and more scans and stuff, right? What Ty did more damage? What if—”

“We paged Dr. Fahir,” Natalie said. “She’s on her way and Bex will be looked after.” She squeezed Mouse’s arm as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You’ve got to remember to breathe too, Mouse.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like not possible. Bex held out her un-splinted arm and he carefully took her hand. She pulled him closer.

“Bex—” His hoarse whisper was cut off by two more people bursting into the room.

Jay and Hailey.

“Jay,” Bex croaked out and he was instantly by her side. “Jay, he—Will—”

“I know, I know,” Jay shushed her as he leaned in and gently pressed his forehead to hers. “I just saw and he’s still alive, Bex, okay? He’s fighting. And Connor’s with him. He’s going to be okay. I know he is.”

“You don’t—”

“I do,” Jay said firmly. “Because he knows he’s not allowed to die on us or I’ll bring him back and we’ll kick his ass, right?”

“You can do that?” Bex laughed through her next sob.

“I would figure it out,” Jay vowed and Bex—she believed him.

“He’s going to be okay,” she repeated.

Jay nodded. “Or else.”

***

Chris

Chris and Cindy had taken their time saying good-bye, taking advantage of the relative privacy of the parking garage to sink into each other’s arms for a moment and cry for a bit.

Then all too soon they’d pulled apart because she had to get back to their kids at home and he had to get back to their kids upstairs.

Falling apart completely had to wait. Right now, they had to be the parents.

He’d taken the stairs up to Bex’s floor since the elevator was taking forever and honestly?

He could use the walk.

Every inch of his body was filled with a crackling energy that Chris had nowhere to put. He wanted to hit something. Preferably Ty’s face. He wanted to scream and yell and rage until he had nothing left.

But he couldn’t do that.

He had to be the strong one right now. The solid one. He couldn’t let himself be emptied out when the rest of them needed so much from him.

So, Chris walked up the stairs and used the time to settle himself as best he could. Almost too quickly, he reached Bex’s floor. Reaching out, he opened the door—

And walked into a scene of absolute chaos.

Doctors, nurses, security guards, and cops were all over the place. He grabbed the arm of one familiar face as they dashed by. “Ruzek, what the hell is going on?”

“Oh, shit, Herrmann.” Ruzek’s face went white and that—that was not helping Chris’s stress levels. “Uh, Ty Anderson escaped custody and came to Med,” Ruzek said, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“He what?” Chris’s stomach dropped as he tightened his grip on Ruzek’s arm.

“He overtook his guard, stole their uniform and their gun and made his way over to Med,” Ruzek spit out the facts as quick as he could which Chris would almost appreciate if each one wasn’t more horrible than the last. “We were doing a sweep, but he made it to Bex’s room—”

Chris couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t—

“Is—is Bex—”

“He knocked her out, but I think she’s okay,” Ruzek said. He bit his lip, looking back at the crowd before facing Chris again. “Ty was looking for Emery and Will distracted him somehow. Got him out of Bex’s room, but he—Ty shot Will. I don’t know how bad it is, but Connor was right there so he got help immediately. They’re taking him up to surgery now. Ty’s in custody again and they’re taking him to the station.”

“That’s—jesus, okay, thanks, Ruz.” Chris released his arm and patted his shoulder before stumbling off to Bex’s room. He needed to see her for himself. Make sure she was okay.

And then check on Will—god, Will.

And find Jay. He must be losing his mind.

Okay.

Chris took a deep breath as he neared Bex’s room.

One thing at a time.

Check on Bex.

He entered her room and found another crowd of people there. Dr. Fahir was examining Bex’s side—Chris didn’t miss pained look Bex was trying to hide or the dried blood on the side of her head either.

Mouse stood on the other side of the bed with Jay and Hailey. Nat and Maggie and another nurse were huddled close by behind Dr. Fahir.

Bex spotted him first.

“Chris!”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here,” he said, moving forward quickly when it looked like she was going to try and freaking get out of the bed to get to him. “I heard some of what happened and I’m sure there’s more to fill me in on, but first let’s get you taken care of, okay, kid?”

“I’d like to take Bex for some more scans,” Dr. Fahir said, cutting off whatever protest Bex was about to make. “We need to make sure there’s nothing more serious behind the head injury and I’m worried there may have been further injury done to her ribs.”

The other nurse started unhooking things, getting the bed ready to move, and Bex looked between him, Jay, and Mouse, the fear in her eyes speaking volumes.

“I’m going with her,” Mouse said immediately, stepping closer to the bed and taking Bex’s hands.

“That’s not—” Dr. Fahir began, shaking her head, but Jay crossed his arms and leveled a look at her.

“My sister was just attacked in your hospital,” he said. “We’re going to do whatever she needs to make sure she feels safe. I don’t really give a shit about hospital protocol right now.”

Chris rubbed at his forehead before wading in to the fray. He got Jay’s frustration—he felt that same anger down to his bones.

But going on the attack when Bex needed them wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

“Please, Dr. Fahir,” Chris said. “You gotta admit these are extraordinary circumstances right now. And your scans will go better if Bex is calm, right? We’re not asking to all tromp in there with her, even though, believe me, we’d like to. But one person? To help her feel safe?”

Dr. Fahir looked at the wall of them standing there—at Bex’s hand clutching Mouse’s—and sighed. “One person,” she said. “And you can’t stay in the room for all of them, but there’s a microphone and you can keep talking to her.”

“Thank you,” Mouse said quickly, jumping on the offer. “That’s—thank you.”

It took another few minutes for them to get organized, but soon they were wheeling her away with Mouse right by her side.

Chris looked over at Jay who was staring at a patch of blood on the floor. Without a word, Chris walked over and pulled him into a hug.

This time, Jay held him back just as tight.

***

Connor

He couldn’t work on Will.

Connor knew that.

Even if they weren’t—even if Will wasn’t his…wasn’t his—Connor had just finished a grueling surgery of his own and had no business jumping in on another one.

But he couldn’t let Will go through this alone.

Dr. Allan stopped short when she saw him in the scrub room, following his gaze through the window where he watched the nurses getting Will prepped. She kept silent while she scrubbed in. And then sighed.

“You stay in here,” she said quietly. “And you stay quiet.”

Connor nodded tightly. Not trusting himself to say anything and grateful beyond what any words could possibly convey anyway.

He watched them work.

Flipped on the speaker so he could hear.

It was a through and through. That was good. No fragments to deal with.

Will had lost a lot of blood though. So much blood. It was sticky on Connor’s skin.

The proximity of the shot had made for a messy exit wound.

There was damage to his spleen.

Dr. Allan was still checking for more damage when Connor caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the glass. His face and chest covered in streaks of blood. Will’s blood.

Connor’s legs started to shake and he carefully lowered himself to the ground, leaning against the shelves as he sat on the floor. He closed his eyes. Listened to Dr. Allan’s calm voice as she narrated every step of the operation.

That was unusual...and completely for his benefit.

Connor didn’t know how he was going to repay such a kindness.

The door to the scrub room opened and quiet steps made their way towards him. Someone sat down on the floor next to him, taking their hand in his. Connor took a quick glimpse.

Maggie.

She stayed there with him, sitting in silence as they listened to the operation.

After a while, a long while, she finally spoke. “Connor, we should—” she began and he shook his head.

“I can’t—” Connor swallowed hard, starting again. “This is all I can do right now, Maggie. Just let me do this, please.”

He felt her staring at him for a moment before she squeezed his hand and settled back into his side. Another kindness.

Connor held himself even tighter—he couldn’t afford to let himself be undone by these bits of grace—not when Will needed him.

He didn’t know how to explain, didn’t have the words to tell Maggie that this was the only way he had to fight for Will right now.

Will—he had Connor’s heart.

And Connor had his.

So, if he could stay here and breathe and let his heart keep beating…

Will’s would keep beating too.

However long it took, Connor was going to stay here.

Keeping their hearts beating.

Click here to read Chapter Seven.

A/N #2:

First of all, sorry for such a long wait between chapters. There was the holidays and then I had an unexpected deadline come up for the beginning of January, and then I had freaking Covid. So, however bummed you've been, trust me - I was bummier. *sad trombone*

But I'm back now! With a very sad beans chapter, lol! YOU'RE WELCOME!!!

Don't worry - we're moving into the comfort portion of the hurt/comfort in the next chapter.

Thanks for your patience and for sticking around and reading this story. Please feel free to say hi and share your reactions to this chapter! :D

Click here to read That Herrmann/Halstead DNA on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat, @emme-looou, @trulylavandedarling

#a herrmann/halstead production #one chicago #chicago fire #chicago pd #chicago med #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #jay halstead #oc character #will halstead #christopher herrmann #greg “mouse” gerwitz x original female character #greg “mouse” gerwitz #greg gerwitz #whump #hurt/comfort #trauma #whump fic #angst

24 notes · View notes

tkachuksoralfixation · 2 months

Note

mcmatt + clean for the fic prompt!

(Jamie you're a real one. You know exactly what i want to write thank you)

To say the very least, Matthew Tkachuk is the most stubborn person in the world that Connor has the pleasure of looking after.

He'd taken over for Brady when the off-season started officially, given the fact that Matthew fought long and hard to play through his pretty severe injuries. Even after a good chunk of the summer had passed, Matthew continued to push himself to do things he really shouldn't be straining to do.

It's just a part of who he is. It's something Connor isn't used to, not by a long shot, and he can't really grasp why Matthew longs to be so independent. He shrugs off Connor's offers to help him out of bed, or putting on his shirt, or letting him lean on his shoulder when he's been up and at it for a while. Matthew just doesn't accept little acts of help.

So, Connor decides to take it a step further. On a particularly hard day, Connor fills up the tub with soothing warm water and a healthy few handfuls of epsom salts. It takes a lot of effort to drag Matthew into the bathroom, but god, it's worth it to see the way he melts into the water once he's in.

For the first time in a good few months, Matthew looks relaxed. Maybe even content. The bags under his eyes look softer, like just relaxing for once fixed the lack of sleep he's been struggling with. The anxious crease between his eyebrows smoothes out. It feels like a massive victory.

With a smile, Connor reaches for a bottle of shampoo that looks expensive. It's some kind of specialty product, he realizes as he examines the bottle. Made special for curls and damaged hair. He's never particularly looked at Matthew's hair products before now, but the bottle is rather heavy, so it must be new.

Matthew flinches when Connor snaps the bottle open, bright blue eyes suddenly open wide. His face scrunches into a displeased scowl.

"I can bathe myself," Matthew insists, reaching his good hand up for the bottle. Connor doesn't hand it over.

"I know you can," Connor responds simply, "it's not about whether you're able to. Just let me take care of you for now, okay?"

He squeezes a small amount of shampoo on his hand, watching the confliction spread on Matthew's face. It's clear this isn't something he considered. Washing your hair is such a standard, normal process that you hardly even think about until you have a broken arm. Connor can't imagine how useless he would feel if he suddenly had to rely on someone else to do everything for him.

Honestly? It sounds like hell on earth.

And he gets it. Really, he does. This whole thing is a conflict of everything Matthew has brought himself to believe. He has to do things on his own, prove he can make it, prove he's good enough. He can't do that if he's having his every move attended to by his brother or his boyfriend. Still, though. It's nice to be cared for once in a while, isn't it?

"Fine," Matthew mumbles, lowering his head to let Connor saturate his hair with water. "I'm doing it myself next time, though."

"You got it," Connor says.

He massages his fingers into Matthew's scalp, gently detangling his curls and rubbing the shampoo in. It's slow and tedious, but he does it regardless. Matthew sighs and groans here and there, his eyes closed as he lets Connor do his thing. He repeats the process after rinsing, this time with conditioner, and then they rinse again. Matthew is like putty in his hands, melting into his touches and leaning into him when is hands stray from his scalp.

It's okay to ask for help, he wants to say. It's okay to need people sometimes. You're allowed. But he has the feeling that won't be received very well, so Connor says nothing. He just smiles at Matthew as the water drains, helps him step out of the tub, and leans in for a wet kiss.

"Thank you," Matthew mumbles into his lips as a towel is draped over his shoulders, "y'know, you'd be a great masseuse."

"And touch anybody else but you? No way," Connor retorts, slick as a duck, a cheeky grin adorning his cheeks. He earns a smack on the shoulder.

"I'd flirt with you more, but this brain fog that comes with whatever the hell they have me on is fucked," Matthew grumbles, clinging to Connor's waist. He lets Connor do the work of drying him off, including his sopping wet hair. It feels like he just won the Stanley Cup.

"No need. I know you love me," Connor smiles. He doesn't need to be told. Being allowed in his personal space, into his life so freely, is enough.

Matthew leans into him. He doesn't touch with heat, or desperation, or lust. He just leans, chin hooked over Connor's shoulder. He radiates warmth.

It feels like a win.

#tkachuksoralcreations #hrpf #mcmatt #1997 #i got a little carried away.....#can. can you tell i love mcmatt.#can you #jamie you get me...

18 notes · View notes

just-my-type-x · 2 years

Note

I want smut about being horny with Brad wearing a black jacket like the one in the picture, pleasee

Countryside Escapade

Smut

I hope this was the picture you were talking about ♥️

Pic sent by @multifandomsugar

I take a few plates from the trunk and help Lucy set up the table for us to eat on. She lays the table cloth and helps me arrange the plates, counting the people so we would have enough of everything. Kirstie puts knives and forks and Tristan joins to do the last touches on the table.

I look over to the side where the rest of the boys are chatting and drinking beers and i smile at Brad when he catches my eye. He winks at me and i roll my eyes. The wind blows all of a sudden and i get goosebumps everywhere on my body. I turn around to look for Brad's leather jacket, as he is wearing only a t-shirt. I toss it to him and wait for him to put it on.

"Thanks, princess", he catches me by my waist and pulls me closer to him

"No problem, baby", i sit myself on his lap and he pulls me closer to adjust me. "You're much warmer than me, how's that even possible. You've been sitting here the whole time.", i laugh and take a sip of his beer.

"We've been drinking, my blood kept warming up", Brad smirks at me and kisses my jawline, gripping tighter on my sides. I moan silently and turn my head to kiss him. I stop, looking around to see if anyone notices our little exchange of words and hungry eyes.

"You look so sexy in this jacket, Bradley", i whisper in his ear, while gripping his jacket collar.

"Someone's horny, may i say?", he raises his eyebrows, amused. "Because... Right back at ya", he caresses my ass cheek and squeezes it gently while holding my gaze. I bite my lip and follow his gaze that fell on my mouth. "You're gonna need more than that to keep you quiet tonight.", he kisses me and i freeze for a few seconds, still taking in what he said. I kiss him back, my hands around his neck and i deepen the kiss.

"Please wait until after dinner, my appetite fades", Connor makes fun of us and Brad throws a snickers bar at him.

"Shut up, babe, you're getting attention tonight too", Lucy laughs and joins us, her as well sitting in Con's lap.

"Sounds good to me", they kiss each other and spend a few more minutes talking and laughing.

After dinner, we make a big bonfire, taking out all the marshmallows, graham crackers, nutella and a lot of fruits to have around us. We drink glass after glass, making the most out of the moment, happy that we're all there, together, living the best years of our lives.

I go back to the car to get mine and Brad's sleeping bags to put them inside the tent and he joins me halfway, helping me with them.

"I'm sorry i didn't help you much today.", Brad puts the sleeping bags on the grass and opens the temt zipper.

"C'mon, babe, did you really think i was mad or anything? I'm the happiest when u're finally relaxed.", i smile at him and kneel next to him to help him unroll them.

"I love you so much"

"I love you more", i peck his lips and i get inside the tent to arrange some pillows and another blanket, but Brad follows me inside. "What are you doing?", i giggle when he pushes me down and gets on top of me, tickling me, biting me and kissing me. He stops and tries to get off me, but i grab him by the collar of the jacket again and pull him back on me. "I was serious about how this jacket makes me feel. And I've been drinking too."

He smirks and starts undressing me, my boiling body not feeling the chilly evening. Brad takes a moment to look at my exposed body, breathing heavily, eyes filled with lust. He undresses himself and hovers me again, rubbing himself on me, building up even more need than i was already feeling.

"Please", i beg Brad and he exhales loudly, obeying in seconds. He puts the head in, slowly getting inside my pussy so neither i or him get hurt. I gasp when he's all the way in and he gives me a smile while opening my legs wider for him. I bite my lip, watching him watch me with a wild hunger.

"This is the best view I've had all weekend.", i chuckle and he gives me one more smile, his hands grabbing my sides. Brad starts thrusting in me slowly at first, but as soon as my walls are stretched enough for him, he starts going faster and harder. Our skins touching each other sound so much louder in the quietness of the hill we're on and this only makes us get crazier about the feeling.

"Mm, don't stop", i breath out, my hand grabbing Brad's.

"Never", he whispers and pins our hands above my head, this position giving him a lot more access inside me. He reaches my g-spot even better than before, which makes me almost screem, but Brad's mouth covers mine just in time. "Baby, as much as i love having you scream for me, keep it lower.", i nod, barely comprehending what he told me. I tighten my grip on his hand and arch my back in need for release.

"You do it way too good, i can't help it sometimes", he chuckles and releases my hands so he would get in a better position for both of us to finish. He grabs my waist again and puts a pillow underneath me, while pumping fast inside me. I bite my hand so i hold back my moans, but Brad can't seem to want to hold his back. He groans loud, moan after moan and loud exhales, as he gets close. "Shh", i barely make it out and he puts a hand on my stomach, building up pressure on my belly. My head falls back as i cum a few moments after, muffling my moans with the back of my hand. I whimper while Brad releases right after me, riding our highs. He cums with a groan, moving fast as he's still turned on from earlier, this only opening his appetite for more sex.

He takes it out slowly, cleaning me and himself with some paper towels. He gets next to me, throwing a blanket on us, the heat in our bodies being replaced soon after with coldness.

"Remind me to wear that jacket again, if the outcome is always going to be this amazing sex.", his breath steadies and chest raises at normal speed now.

"Oh, for sure.", i smile and get closer to his body, my back on his chest

"If you're going to stay like this, we're not going outside again", he whispers in my ear and bites my earlobe, and i squirm under his touch.

"Sounds great"

#brad simpson #the vamps #brad simpson imagine #brad simpson smut

37 notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 1 year

Text

Chapter 19: THE CHARIOT RACE ENDS WITH A BANG

"Buses weren't good enough for you anymore, huh Percy?" Jason grinned as he read the new chapter. "Had to escalate to whole circuits of races."

"Who said I blew it up?" But there was no real protest in Percy, he knew it probably was his fault.

We arrived in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs' travel powers. I rode on Chiron's back, but we didn't talk much, especially not about Kronos. I knew it had been difficult for Chiron to tell me. I didn't want to push him with more questions. I mean, I've met plenty of embarrassing parents, but Kronos, the evil titan lord who wanted to destroy Western Civilization? Not the kind of dad you invited to school for career day.

"I'll bet the firefighter's and cops could at least use him as a bad example," Thalia said with twitching lips, mostly for the adorable mental idea of baby Chiron holding a blanky surrounded by desks. He still had the beard and tweed jacket too.

When we got to camp, the centaurs were anxious to meet Dionysus. They'd heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill.

The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had burned to the ground from an attack by a Draco Aionius (which as near as I could figure was Latin for "really-big-lizard-with-breath-that-blows-stuff-up").

"How many dragons are out there?" Magnus demanded. First the one on the ship, now this, even the mist had to have limits hiding these things away. Right?

He got no answer, and he really wished somebody would pretend just once there were no more deadly things a head.

The Big House's rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in the Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid.

Will gave a shaky, exhausted sigh at just the mention of that. It had been great practice at least. He and Katie had spent a lot of time together and he hadn't even gotten a chance to enjoy how easy it was to work with her, the things she could do with those herbs. It had been the first time he'd been allowed in the thick of it all...but they'd lost one Athena kid he hadn't even known the name of...

"You okay?" The impulsive question had just slipped right out of Nico's mouth seeing Will's mouth twitch into a frown like that. He didn't regret it though, it was the least he could do after Will had been so nice to him.

"Mm," he agreed quietly. "Just old memories." Tantalus's leaving had really been the only thing to smile at those two weeks. They'd spent every day and night racing around camp trying to keep monsters away while their 'activities director' kept trying to distract them, and even undermine them with useless suggestions. If they hadn't gotten back when they did, he wasn't sure how many more times they would have woken up to their home existing.

He cheered himself slightly by telling everybody, "Connor won a running bet though, no chores the rest of that summer for him because Clarisse came back alive. Nobody won the grand pot of no more chores for life though because the option for Clarisse coming back alive with the fleece never got a wager," he finished with a grin at Percy.

"Thank you, thank you," Percy gave a mock bow.

Everybody looked weary and battered as we crowded around Thalia's tree.

The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest bough, the moonlight seemed to brighten, turning from gray to liquid silver. A cool breeze rustled in the branches and rippled through the grass, all the way into the valley. Everything came into sharper focus— the glow of the fireflies down in the woods, the smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of the waves on the beach.

Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green.

Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt—the Fleece's magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he'd place an ad in Olympus Weekly right away.

Magnus opened, then closed his mouth because he wasn't really sure he wanted to know.

Alex blurted out, "you can hire monsters in ads!"

"Sure, why not," Thalia shrugged.

In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates' shoulders down to the amphitheater, where she was honored with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

Nobody gave Annabeth or me a second look. It was as if we'd never left. In a way, I guess that was the best thank-you anyone could give us, because if they admitted we'd snuck out of camp to do the quest, they'd have to expel us.

"Have to is a little strong," Will gave a cheerful laugh again, "maybe we would have just to get some peace and quiet."

"Could just suspend him for the summer," Jason smirked, "not everything has to be the full 9's with him."

"Like Chiron would ever," Percy scoffed. "He'd have to prove we were gone while he was, and as far as I know I never left my bunk unattended," he finished with the most foolishly innocent smile.

And really, I didn't want any more attention. It felt good to be just one of the campers for once.

Percy laughed in agreement with that now, it was what he'd been really longing for this whole time in this world. A sense of peace and belonging that had always evaded him because of Poseidon or Tyson, now he strode among his home with both labels.

Later that night, as we were roasting s'mores and listening to the Stoll brothers tell us a ghost story about an evil king who was eaten alive by demonic breakfast pastries,

Carefree laughter echoed around the room once more. This time there was no impending doom of some villain about to appear, not even a great worry on the horizon because instead they were all waiting on tenterhooks to hear the good news and this was all cake in the meantime.

"I can tell you guys the story in detail now," Will offered happily, forcing himself not to grin at Nico in hopes he'd get a kick out of it. "Connor's told it to me a million times, I think I actually annoyed him I asked him to tell it to me so much." It had been the first time Will had admitted to himself he'd had a crush on Connor, though the memory didn't seem as rosy in his mind as usual.

"I'll get the pastries!" Alex agreed as he jumped out of his seat.

"Wait until the book's done," Thalia pleaded, "don't leave me in suspense what happened," she chuckled.

"He'll hold you to that Thalia," Jason already warned as he peacefully kept going.

"Campfire under the sea for the next break, can't wait," Alex agreed stubbornly.

Clarisse shoved me from behind and whispered in my ear, "Just because you were cool one time, Jackson, don't think you're off the hook with Ares. I'm still waiting for the right opportunity to pulverize you."

"Is there a wrong time for that?" Thalia asked innocently.

"Now," Percy mock challenged as he raised his fist. "I can create a cyclone just for you pinecone face." Then he went cross-eyed and muttered to himself, somehow knowing that wasn't the first time he'd called her that.

"Ugh, I liked you better with amnesia about this," Thalia scoffed.

I gave her a grudging smile.

"What?" she demanded.

"Nothing," I said. "Just good to be home."

This underwater place wasn't the worst, but even to Percy it held no attachments to him. Even Alex and Magnus who weren't gung ho on leaving this small safety net couldn't claim this palace felt any less than a very cozy prison.

The next morning, after the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled.

"Chiron showing off a bit?" Jason laughed into the stunned silence. "Showing how a real director can handle these if something goes wrong."

"Let's hope nothing goes wrong!" Percy protested.

We'd all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

Tyson wasn't too keen on the idea of getting back in a chariot after our first experience, but he was happy to let me team up with Annabeth. I would drive, Annabeth would defend, and Tyson would act as our pit crew. While I worked with the horses, Tyson fixed up Athena's chariot and added a whole bunch of special modifications.

"Be afraid, be very afraid," Percy cackled with excitement.

"Please don't let him win this race," Thalia even began edging away from him. "If his head gets any bigger it might explode."

"Where's Annabeth to knock him off his high horse when we need her," Will agreed casually, but there was no real heat to any of them, it was nice to see him get so many victories in a row. The camp was saved, he hadn't had any more arguments with Annabeth yet, the little things that kept him smiling instead of poking around in his head and nearly killing them all.

We spent the next two days training like crazy. Annabeth and I agreed that if we won, the prize of no chores for the rest of the month would be split between our two cabins. Since Athena had more campers, they would get most of the time off, which was fine by me. I didn't care about the prize. I just wanted to win.

The night before the race, I stayed late at the stables. I was talking to our horses, giving them one final brushing, when somebody right behind me said, "Fine animals, horses. Wish I'd thought of them."

A middle-aged guy in a postal carrier outfit was leaning against the stable door. He was slim, with curly black hair under his white pith helmet, and he had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

"Hermes?" I stammered.

Though Jason still slipped up and called him Mercury, but all of them would have stuttered over that name with unease. He'd sent Percy out to do one thing and Percy had somehow done the exact opposite of trying to talk sense into Luke. If he wasn't sitting before them now, they might have thought they were about to hear of their first smiting.

"Hello, Percy. Didn't recognize me without my jogging clothes?"

"Uh ..." I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to kneel or buy stamps from him or what.

"You've bowed to exactly one god, and you can do the other online now," Alex dismissed. "He should be there to give you an apology for putting you on a monster cruise ship without warning."

"I don't see that happening, but thanks Alex," Percy sighed.

Then it occurred to me why he must be here. "Oh, listen, Lord Hermes, about Luke ..."

The god arched his eyebrows.

"Uh, we saw him, all right," I said, "but—"

"You weren't able to talk sense into him?"

"Well, we kind of tried to kill each other in a duel to the death."

"He can't judge you to harshly," Will gave a nervous laugh only because there had been no hole in the stables to speak of. "I'm sure he's tried to kill his own siblings enough to get it."

"I see. You tried the diplomatic approach."

"Annabeth was no more help!" Percy protested, even if he was relieved she hadn't been anymore involved with Luke.

"I'm really sorry. I mean, you gave us those awesome gifts and everything. And I know you wanted Luke to come back. But ... he's turned bad. Really bad. He said he feels like you abandoned him."

I waited for Hermes to get angry. I figured he'd turn me into a hamster or something, and I did not want to spend any more time as a rodent.

"What about a human sized talking rodent?" Alex asked critically.

"Hard pass," Percy assured.

Instead, he just sighed. "Do you ever feel your father abandoned you, Percy?"

Oh, man.

I wanted to say, "Only a few hundred times a day." I hadn't spoken to Poseidon since last summer. I'd never been to his underwater palace. And then there was the whole thing with Tyson—no warning, no explanation. Just boom, you have a brother. You'd think that deserved a little heads-up phone call or something.

Percy glowered at nobody in here as he wondered too if his mom had known. She could see through the mist, she'd probably known exactly who and what Tyson was to him and she'd kept him the dark too. She hadn't even wanted him to come to camp! Everybody kept treating him like a threat, or a child when he'd saved all of their bacon!

The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I realized I did want recognition for the quest I'd completed, but not from the other campers. I wanted my dad to say something. To notice me.

"I guess it's to much to ask he show up at the end of every quest to make sure my life is spared from Zeus," Percy huffed.

"At least he answer's your prayers," Thalia said wistfully. Percy was never in doubt his dad at least wanted him alive, for now. She was never even sure about that.

Hermes readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder. "Percy, the hardest part about being a god is that you must often act indirectly, especially when it comes to your own children.

Will smiled, but it was one of those sad grins that didn't quite reach his eyes. Lee had told him that his first night in his new bunk, but strangely the words sounded no better coming from a god than if his dad had popped in to tell him in person.

If we were to intervene every time our children had a problem ... well, that would only create more problems and more resentment.

Nico frowned distastefully. He knew Hermes was right, he'd always suspected his dad had never even claimed him because to acknowledge his existence would just bring more wrath down upon them both. He tried not to hold a grudge against his dad, but being left to wander aimlessly and only ever hear from his dad when he had to interrupt an argument with Persephone to get attention was another kind of resentment he struggled with just as much.

But I believe if you give it some thought, you will see that Poseidon has been paying attention to you. He has answered your prayers. I can only hope that some day, Luke may realize the same about me. Whether you feel like you succeeded or not, you reminded Luke who he was. You spoke to him."

"I tried to kill him."

"It was a two for one deal," Jason huffed.

Hermes shrugged. "Families are messy. Immortal families are eternally messy. Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we're related, for better or worse ... and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum."

"To a minimum," Magnus repeated with a queasy look on his face. "You guys really make me feel like I should brace for the explosion when that minimum hits its limit." His own family had imploded at so young an age he barely remembered his two uncles, and his mom had been taken from him by wolves with glowing eyes he now knew a god must be responsible for. He wanted Annabeth back in his life because she knew of this strange world, but maybe he shouldn't even want that if it might get him killed next. He wasn't happy homeless, but at least he was alive, and she clearly didn't need him.

He glanced at Hearth though and reminded himself he already was involved, as proven by even being in here. His ignorance would not save him from that minimum of the catastrophe line.

It didn't sound like much of a recipe for the perfect family. Then again, as I thought about my quest, I realized maybe Hermes was right. Poseidon had sent the hippocampi to help us. He'd given me powers over the sea that I'd never known about before. And there was Tyson. Had Poseidon brought us together on purpose? How many times had Tyson saved my life this summer?

"Depends on if you're counting specific events or in total," Jason said analytically. "He scared away monsters even before you could start counting at school, there were the five giants, or four if you disqualify the one Annabeth killed, or just one instance in the grand total-"

"And we're not, at all," Percy interrupted sternly.* "I couldn't have done this quest without him or Annabeth."

"You did good work too Percy," Will told him, and if he was mocking him it didn't come through. Percy shrugged that off and glanced around again. His dad had only communicated with him once, and it hadn't even been directly. Whatever he was down here for, he wasn't getting a clear message about it.

In the distance, the conch horn sounded, signaling curfew.

"You should get to bed," Hermes said. "I've helped you get into quite enough trouble this summer already.

'More than enough for a lifetime,' Hearth agreed. He still wasn't sure if Hermes had helped or hindered more on this task. It was interesting to know any gods interference into mortal affairs always felt that way.

I really only came to make this delivery."

"A delivery?"

"I am the messenger of the gods, Percy." He took an electronic signature pad from his mailbag and handed it to me. "Sign there, please."

I picked up the stylus before realizing it was entwined with a pair of tiny green snakes. "Ah!"

Will made a face and muttered, "please never send me anything via Hermes."

Nico looked offended as he said, "If I was going to deliver a message, I'd just visit your dreams, or go there in person."

Will gave him a long look Nico didn't know how to interpret. Almost amused, almost like he wanted to laugh at him? Did Will think he couldn't do it?

Then Will just shrugged and smiled, "sure, anytime you want Nico."

I dropped the pad.

Ouch, said George.

Really, Percy, Martha scolded. Would you want to be dropped on the floor of a horse stable?

"I would," Magnus held his hand up. "I've always liked horses, and barns are warm enough. Sleeping on hay isn't very fun though."

"I will keep that in mind," Alex snickered.

"Oh, uh, sorry." I didn't much like touching snakes, but I picked up the pad and the stylus again. Martha and George wriggled under my fingers, forming a kind of pencil grip like the ones my special ed teacher made me use in second grade.

"I remember those," Thalia nodded, "I kept chewing on mine so they took them away."

"I bet Grover did too," Percy chuckled.

Did you bring me a rat? George asked.

"No ..." I said. "Uh, we didn't find any."

What about a guinea pig?

Jason looked a little ruffled at the mention of that again and muttered something about feeding the pirates to George before moving on.

George! Martha chided. Don't tease the boy.

I signed my name and gave the pad back to Hermes.

In exchange, he handed me a sea-blue envelope.

My fingers trembled. Even before I opened it, I could tell it was from my father. I could sense his power in the cool blue paper, as if the envelope itself had been folded out of an ocean wave.

Percy's fingers were trembling over nothing as he waited for the warm cradle of the ocean to envelope him once more. He'd pick up a snake every day if his dad had to send a single shape of the alphabet at a time to give him an actual message for the millions of things he wanted to say and have said in return.

"Good luck tomorrow," Hermes said. "Fine team of horses you have there, though you'll excuse me if I root for the Hermes cabin."

And don't be too discouraged when you read it, dear, Martha told me. He does have your interests at heart.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Don't mind her, George said. And next time, remember, snakes work for tips.

"Enough, you two," Hermes said. "Good-bye, Percy. For now."

Small white wings sprouted from his pith helmet. He began to glow, and I knew enough about the gods to avert my eyes before he revealed his true divine form. With a brilliant white flash he was gone, and I was alone with the horses.

I stared at the blue envelope in my hands. It was addressed in strong but elegant handwriting that I'd seen once before, on a package Poseidon had sent me last summer.

Percy Jackson

c/o Camp Half-Blood

Farm Road 3.141

Long Island, New York 11954

An actual letter from my father. Maybe he would tell me I'd done a good job getting the Fleece. He'd explain about Tyson, or apologize for not talking to me sooner. There were so many things that I wanted that letter to say.

I opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.

Two simple words were printed in the middle of the page:

Brace Yourself

Nothing had happened in here though, and he felt as foolish now as he had that night. Putting all his hopes into that one godly message that had taken more time to get to him than it had to conjure it into existing. He tried hard not to let the resentment float back and simmer in him, that his dad had given him any sort of sign at all should still mean he knew. He cared.

On the other hand, it was so uselessly vague it felt more like Poseidon was toying with him as much as Kronos was. Were gods allergic to giving a straight answer!

Then he looked around and saw the others looked a lot more impressed than he did. Had Zeus ever done anything like this for Thalia? Jason was scrutinizing that and glancing down at his tattoo again with a familiar longing to Percy, but at least he had a starting point on knowing who he was.

Will was trying hard to laugh off Apollo had never done anything like this for a single one of his kids, maybe the less children a god had the more words were given. Nico wasn't even sure his dad ever gave him a second thought, unknowingly thinking the same as Hearth.

Only Alex was left wishing his mother would stop sending him such clear messages about the roll he should feel obligated to play and was distracting himself by practicing his ASL forwards and backwards while Magnus watched with that same doe-eyed look. Whoever his Norse parent was hadn't reached out to him yet, and he wasn't exactly looking forward to when they inevitably did.

Maybe Percy should be counting his blessings.

The next morning, everybody was buzzing about the chariot race, though they kept glancing nervously toward the sky like they expected to see Stymphalian birds gathering.

"I guess nobody wanted seconds," Alex said.

"I wonder if Grover could have talked to them," Magnus wondered of the metal birds, or the bulls. Were their recorded vocals lifelike enough? It wouldn't have necessarily spared them, after all it hadn't with Cerberus, but he wanted to ask all the same.

None did. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and plenty of sunshine. The camp had started to look the way it should look: the meadows were green and lush; the white columns gleamed on the Greek buildings; dryads played happily in the woods.

And I was miserable.

"You go through all that effort to save the camp, and yet," Thalia gave such an exaggerated wave to him one of her Death to Barbie's pins flew off and beamed his cheek. "Does anything please you mister?"

"Straight answers," he reminded as he began fiddling with the clasp, the look on his face unclear if he was going to jab her back with it or put it on. Thalia snatched it away before he could make the choice, and Jason kept reading loudly before the two could start any other sideshows.

I'd been lying awake all night, thinking about Poseidon's warning.

Brace yourself.

I mean, he goes to the trouble of writing a letter, and he writes two words?

Martha the snake had told me not to feel disappointed. Maybe Poseidon had a reason for being so vague. Maybe he didn't know exactly what he was warning me about, but he sensed something big was about to happen—something that could completely knock me off my feet unless I was prepared.

Will was tugging fruitlessly on his ear and fighting back his own tightening throat. His dad was the god of prophecy, had he no warning about the battles to come where his own children would die? Or had he just not cared about the sense enough to warn his kids too? The jealousy as he glanced from Percy and away surprised him, he'd always felt bad for the guy at camp being so singled out for his parentage.

Nico was surprised to see Will pulling his shtick, looking to Percy and quickly away before the son of the sea god could see the jealousy that was there. He almost wanted to laugh at the turn of events, but instead asked Will quietly, "come talk to me after this book?" He owed Will an apology anyways and it would give him something else to think about.

"Yeah!" Will instantly agreed and smiled at him, somehow even brighter than usual. Nico gulped and almost instantly regretted this, but Jason hadn't stopped reading for longer than a breath, so he couldn't take it back.

It was hard, but I tried to turn my thoughts to the race.

As Annabeth and I drove onto the track, I couldn't help admiring the work Tyson had done on the Athena chariot.

"That is a terrifyingly unbeatable team," Jason grinned, "no way you guys lose," though every word out of his mouth made it seem like a challenge he was willing to try.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Percy was grinning and already imagining the laurels to put on Annabeth's head. His dad was going to drive him crazy, the outcome of his life was a mystery, but he would sure take his time now to enjoy these victories.

The carriage gleamed with bronze reinforcements. The wheels were realigned with magical suspension so we glided along with hardly a bump. The rigging for the horses was so perfectly balanced that the team turned at the slightest tug of the reins.

Alex was nearly drooling by the end wanting to see such craftsman ship in person and muttering all over again about wanting to meet Tyson. Magnus tried not to feel like an inept jealous idiot because at least he could teach Alex something in the meantime.

Tyson had also made us two javelins, each with three buttons on the shaft. The first button primed the javelin to explode on impact, releasing razor wire that would tangle and shred an opponent's wheels. The second button produced a blunt (but still very painful)

"Wouldn't be Camp without literally everything being painful and dangerous," Magnus muttered.

bronze spearhead designed to knock a driver out of his carriage. The third button brought up a grappling hook that could be used to lock onto an enemy's chariot or push it away.

I figured we were in pretty good shape for the race, but Tyson still warned me to be careful.

The other chariot teams had plenty of tricks up their togas.

"Here," he said, just before the race began.

He handed me a wristwatch. There wasn't anything special about it—just a white-and-silver clock face, a black leather strap—but as soon as I saw it I realized that this is what I'd seen him tinkering on all summer.

Percy glanced down at his wrist now and saw the empty space with a pang of guilt. Why wasn't he still wearing it? He'd been wrong to mistrust Tyson at the beginning, and there was zero doubt left in him he'd ever want to go back to having cabin 3 alone.

I didn't usually like to wear watches. Who cared what time it was? But I couldn't say no to Tyson.

"Thanks, man." I put it on and found it was surprisingly light and comfortable. I could hardly tell I was wearing it.

"Didn't finish in time for the trip," Tyson mumbled. "Sorry, sorry."

"Hey, man. No big deal."

"If you need protection in race," he advised, "hit the button."

"Ah, okay." I didn't see how keeping time was going to help a whole lot, but I was touched that Tyson was concerned. I promised him I'd remember the watch. "And, hey, um, Tyson..."

He looked at me.

"I wanted to say, well ..." I tried to figure out how to apologize for getting embarrassed about him before the quest, for telling everyone he wasn't my real brother. It wasn't easy to find the words.

"It would have helped if you didn't decide to do this five minutes before you had an excuse to run off," Alex said not unkindly, "but you get credit for wanting to say it at all."

Percy gave him a sheepish grin and didn't deny it, he'd been trying to find the words sense he got back from camp and still had no clue what to say.

"I know what you will tell me," Tyson said, looking ashamed. "Poseidon did care for me after all."

"Uh, well—"

"He sent you to help me. Just what I asked for."

I blinked. "You asked Poseidon for ... me?"

"For a friend," Tyson said, twisting his shirt in his hands. "Young Cyclopes grow up alone on the streets, learn to make things out of scraps. Learn to survive."

"But that's so cruel!"

He shook his head earnestly. "Makes us appreciate blessings, not be greedy and mean and fat like Polyphemus.

Magnus grimaced again. He wouldn't exactly call that a pro of being homeless, but he wouldn't deny he seemed least annoyed about being trapped in here because of these blessings.

But I got scared. Monsters chased me so much, clawed me sometimes—"

"The scars on your back?"

A tear welled in his eye. "Sphinx on Seventy-second Street. Big bully.

The death grip Percy now held on his pen made them all confident there was no longer a sphinx to visit on Seventy-second Street if they wanted a tour of New York.

I prayed to Daddy for help. Soon the people at Meriwether found me. Met you. Biggest blessing ever. Sorry I said Poseidon was mean. He sent me a brother."

There was a feeling Percy had been trying to define about Tyson this entire book, and it now sat on the tip of Percy's tongue as he was dragged away from his little brother again. In the short time they'd been back, even Grover had given the cyclops a tentative smile before darting off to be anywhere else. Everybody he cared about was safe, and he was going to win this race for that cherry on top!

I stared at the watch that Tyson had made me.

"Percy!" Annabeth called. "Come on!"

Chiron was at the starting line, ready to blow the conch.

"Tyson ..." I said.

"Go," Tyson said. "You will win!"

"I—yeah, okay, big guy. We'll win this one for you." I climbed on board the chariot and got into position just as Chiron blew the starting signal.

The horses knew what to do. We shot down the track so fast I would've fallen out if my arms hadn't been wrapped in the leather reins. Annabeth held on tight to the rail. The wheels glided beautifully. We took the first turn a full chariot-length ahead of Clarisse, who was busy trying to fight off a javelin attack from the Stoll brothers in the Hermes chariot.

"I'm glad they've improved over getting past the starting line before causing trouble," Alex chuckled.

"They're nothing if not resilient, what kind of trouble makers would they be if they quit after the first time?" Will agreed brightly. "Connor's lucky he didn't break his neck he spent so much time practicing trying to stand on his horse, and then we kept constantly being attacked, it's a miracle Katie didn't kill him herself," he chuckled with far less humor than he'd felt at the time as the Stoll brothers always endeavored to keep spirits up, Connor especially when Katie was around.

"We've got 'em!" I yelled, but I spoke too soon.

"Incoming!" Annabeth yelled. She threw her first javelin in grappling hook mode, knocking away a lead-weighted net that would have entangled us both. Apollo's chariot had come up on our flank. Before Annabeth could rearm herself, the Apollo warrior threw a javelin into our right wheel.

"Was that you?" Nico asked eagerly.

"Nah," Will waved off, "I'm not much for the heat of battle." Nico didn't understand the odd way he said that. "It was Arjun and Vicky," he finished quietly. One had died, the other had defected to Luke's side and was never seen again. To many old memories were haunting him this chapter, and so he tried to shake it off and smile at Nico, "you have got to be there for the next race though, I'll bribe our best racer to sit out so I can team up with you. You can have all of the rewards of no chores if we win."

Nico didn't really believe any of the other kids would dare race against him without wondering if he'd curse them when he lost, but he at least didn't immediately dismiss the idea of sitting in the stands- wait was he supposed to do this before or after Tartarus? After, obviously!

The javelin shattered, but not before snapping some of our spokes. Our chariot lurched and wobbled. I was sure the wheel would collapse altogether, but we somehow kept going.

I urged the horses to keep up the speed. We were now neck and neck with Apollo. Hephaestus was coming up close behind. Ares and Hermes were falling behind, riding side by side as Clarisse went sword-on-javelin with Connor Stoll.

Will smiled, he could have told them that without the book, he'd been sitting in the stands next to Katie cheering him on while trying to stop Kayla from glancing at the woods nervously every other second. Now he found he didn't give the memory much of a second thought. Odd, as it had been the first cheer the camp had had in weeks, but instead found himself watching Nico intently as if still waiting for him to answer.

If we took one more hit to our wheel, I knew we would capsize.

Jason was all but bouncing in his seat with joy at their near demise and everybody was fighting hard not to laugh at how enthusiastic he was being about this, especially in comparison to the last time he'd had the book.

"You're mine!" the driver from Apollo yelled. He was a first-year camper. I didn't remember his name, but he sure was confident.

"Yeah, right!" Annabeth yelled back.

She picked up her second javelin—a real risk considering we still had one full lap to go— and threw it at the Apollo driver.

Her aim was perfect. The javelin grew a heavy spear point just as it caught the driver in the chest, knocking him against his teammate and sending them both toppling out of their chariot in a backward somersault. The horses felt the reins go slack and went crazy, riding straight for the crowd. Campers scrambled for cover as the horses leaped the corner of the bleachers and the golden chariot flipped over. The horses galloped back toward their stable, dragging the upside-down chariot behind them.

"You guys literally cause mayhem even when you're not trying," Thalia said approvingly.

"I'm still waiting for the actual explosion, do you go against the Vulcan cabin and set the place on fire?" Jason asked eagerly.

"We were just having fun," Percy reminded, "but nooo, everybody else has to get in our way."

"Wouldn't be fun if it was just a straight shot," Alex grinned.

I held our own chariot together through the second turn, despite the groaning of the right wheel. We passed the starting line and thundered into our final lap.

The axle creaked and moaned. The wobbling wheel was making us lose speed, even though the horses were responding to my every command, running like a well-oiled machine.

The Hephaestus team was still gaining.

Laughter burst all around the room their guess had been right. Will alone knew the details and outcome of what was coming, and he was sitting on the edge of his seat like everybody else smiling along for the pure, happy energy in the room, for once. No monstrous threats on the horizon, nothing bad at all, just fun.

Beckendorf grinned as he pressed a button on his command console. Steel cables shot out of the front of his mechanical horses, wrapping around our back rail. Our chariot shuddered as Beckendorf's winch system started working—pulling us backward while Beckendorf pulled himself forward.

Annabeth cursed and drew her knife. She hacked at the cables but they were too thick.

"Can't cut them.'" she yelled.

The Hephaestus chariot was now dangerously close, their horses about to trample us underfoot.

"Switch with me!" I told Annabeth. "Take the reins!"

"But—"

"Trust me!"

She pulled herself to the front and grabbed the reins.

"Remind me of this next time I say magic words aren't real," Percy couldn't stand it anymore and now leapt free of his seat, and Thalia let him without concern for once. He was so hyperactive to hear this, he'd knock himself out before he let the book be interrupted.

I turned, trying hard to keep my footing, and uncapped Riptide.

I slashed down and the cables snapped like kite string. We lurched forward, but Beckendorf's driver just swung his chariot to our left and pulled up next to us. Beckendorf drew his sword.

He slashed at Annabeth, and I parried the blade away.

We were coming up on the last turn. We'd never make it. I needed to disable the Hephaestus chariot and get it out of the way, but I had to protect Annabeth, too. Just because Beckendorf was a nice guy didn't mean he wouldn't send us both to the infirmary if we let our guard down.

Will laughed boisterously in agreement with that, and Nico gave him a side look of admiration, thinking Will might be underestimating himself a bit. If he was the only person who would team up with Nico during this race, Nico would bet his share of no chores Will could be plenty formidable if he put that stubborn streak to good use in a race like this.

We were neck and neck now, Clarisse coming up from behind, making up for lost time.

"See ya, Percy!" Beckendorf yelled. "Here's a little parting gift!"

He threw a leather pouch into our chariot. It stuck to the floor immediately and began billowing green smoke.

"Not even a bow and card to go with it?" Will scoffed, "he needs a lesson in gifting."

"I'm sure you'll teach him with a nice bandage," Nico chuckled, and was surprised to feel a bit of strain on his smile he wasn't used to. Almost like his lips was sore from it.

"Greek fire!" Annabeth yelled.

I cursed. I'd heard stories about what Greek fire could do. I figured we had maybe ten seconds before it exploded.

"Get rid of it!" Annabeth shouted, but I couldn't. Hephaestus's chariot was still alongside, waiting until the last second to make sure their little present blew up. Beckendorf was keeping me busy with his sword. If I let my guard down long enough to deal with the Greek fire, Annabeth would get sliced and we'd crash anyway. I tried to kick the leather pouch away with my foot, but I couldn't. It was stuck fast.

Then I remembered the watch.

I didn't know how it could help, but I managed to punch the stopwatch button. Instantly, the watch changed. It expanded, the metal rim spiraling outward like an old-fashioned camera shutter, a leather strap wrapping around my forearm until I was holding a round war shield four feet wide,

"Ha!" Percy cried in triumph as if he were imagining smacking Luke in the face with that. What would he ever have done without his little brother!

the inside soft leather, the outside polished bronze engraved with designs I didn't have time to examine.

All I knew: Tyson had come through. I raised the shield, and Beckendorf's sword clanged against it. His blade shattered.

"What?" he shouted. "How—"

He didn't have time to say more because I knocked him in the chest with my new shield and sent him flying out of his chariot, tumbling in the dirt.

I was about use Riptide to slash at the driver when Annabeth yelled, "Percy!"

The Greek fire was shooting sparks. I shoved the tip of my sword under the leather pouch and flipped it up like a spatula. The firebomb dislodged and flew into the Hephaestus chariot at the driver's feet. He yelped.

"I'll remind you of this the next time you say a part time gig flipping burgers won't ever help," Thalia cheered.

Percy was grinning like a fiend to much to even retort back as he shuffled back and forth with excitement and tried not to cause waves in the room.

In a split second the driver made the right choice: he dove out of the chariot, which careened away and exploded in green flames. The metal horses seemed to short-circuit. They turned and dragged the burning wreckage back toward Clarisse and the Stoll brothers, who had to swerve to avoid it.

Will was laughing along and watching the pure fun dance along Nico's dark brown eyes when he decided he could spend every day like this-

Oh Apollo.

Did he have a crush on Nico? When did that happen?

Annabeth pulled the reins for the last turn. I held on, sure we would capsize, but somehow she brought us through and spurred the horses across the finish line. The crowd roared.

Once the chariot stopped, our friends mobbed us. They started chanting our names, but Annabeth yelled over the noise: "Hold up! Listen! It wasn't just us!"

The crowd didn't want to be quiet, but Annabeth made herself heard: "We couldn't have done it without somebody else! We couldn't have won this race or gotten the Fleece or saved Grover or anything! We owe our lives to Tyson, Percy's ..."

"Brother!" I said, loud enough for everybody to hear. "Tyson, my baby brother."

Percy sighed in relief as his smile grew impossibly wide. Pride. That was the elusive feeling he'd been chasing this whole dang quest. He was so proud of Tyson he wished he could ever be strong enough to hug him so hard his baby brother would feel it for the rest of his life.

Tyson blushed. The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on my cheek.

Percy's cheeks burned red with a blush and he sat quickly back in his seat, only for Thalia to snort and tell the others, "enjoy that shyness while it lasts, they're nauseating by now."

Magnus gave Percy a once over with a very concerning, 'big brother,' kind of look like he was about to receive a shovel speech, and Percy begged Jason to hurry up and finish.

The roaring got a lot louder after that. The entire Athena cabin lifted me and Annabeth and Tyson onto their shoulders and carried us toward the winner's platform, where Chiron was waiting to bestow the laurel wreaths.

"That one's done," Jason said as he looked around. "Can't be much of this one left."

"Gee, wonder what else it could possibly be," Magnus chuckled as he jumped up and jogged over to take the book. Jason let it go with a reluctance that surprised him as he watched Thalia, grisly images in his minds eye of her coming out of that tree half dead or killing half the camp in her distress of what was going on.

She was just lounging around laughing with Percy though, the two most dangerous demigods on the planet challenging each other to a race when they got back and he was starting to feel a little paranoid just what it was about them that bothered him so much.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

*I count the cannibals' as one, the bulls as two, punching Oreius to escape as three, he saved Annabeth during the Hydra attack which counts here, he helped defeat Polyphemus and had the cash to get the fleece back home. That's six times he saved this quest by my count, but I'd love to hear yours.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Reading the books #fanfiction #Percabeth #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #Nico di Angelo #Will Solace #solangelo #Alex Fierro #Magnus Chase #fierrochase #Hearthstone #Sea of Monsters #HDYSG

6 notes · View notes

autistump · 2 years

Text

tw for forced outing, underaged alcohol use, lesbiphobia

i’ve been forced to out myself a few times. i haven’t talked about it in depth but after the whole kit connor thing, i realized that people don’t realize how forcing people to out themselves fucks people up. not just celebrities, but random people too. so while i can’t say i know exactly how he feels (i admittedly am not in the public eye as he is, or at all really), i do know what it feels like to be powerless in that way.

i wish i could say i didn’t have to come out, i wish i could just be who i was and love who i wanted to, but people saw me and got to know me and for some reason decided i wasn’t worth coming out on my own terms. i’m not outspoken, i can barely stand up for myself and i prefer to keep to myself. my mom saw the way i acted and decided that she wasn’t gonna let me keep things from her, if she wanted something from me, she would get it. and that’s pretty much how it’s been my whole life.

i never got to just be myself and love without having to explain myself. i would try and she would find out about it and force me to tell her. the first time it happened i was about 12-13? i don’t remember exactly. she took me to lunch and started talking to me about boys. at that time i was still convinced that i did like them so i told her about this boy— one of my closest friends. we held hands and cuddled and hung out constantly, it sounded like i should like him, like we should like each other. she seemed satisfied until she got quiet and asked how i felt about girls. i had just stopped trying to convince myself i couldn’t like girls almost a year of trying. i definitely wasn’t ready to talk about it but she wouldn’t drop it. i said i wasn’t interested in girls and she kept pushing me until i said something along the lines of “i don’t know, i guess girls are pretty? i don’t know if i would date one, though”. she gave me a certain look and then went back to her food, moving into a different topic. i was scared and i was upset and i was confused because i still didn’t know who i was. i didn’t talk to her for a couple days after that, she didn’t understand why i was hurt.

i was only just discovering myself. i didn’t feel good about being forced to tell anyone about it, especially not my mom, who i wasn’t particularly close with. especially not after i found out she immediately told my sister that i was “going through a phase”. my sister was not happy with the way she approached that and how she reacted after forcing me to out myself.

i was a kid.

my sister talked some sense into my mom and i though she had since gotten better at handling situations like that. boy was i wrong.

the second time was at a party in the 11th grade. i was probably 16. i was dating my current gf and i was happy. i’m naturally a very physically affectionate person and even more so when i have alcohol in me, so i was pretty much cuddled up to everyone i knew that night. i guess i got too comfortable with one of my friends and i guess one of my friends had a crush on him because as i had my head on his shoulder and he was hugging me, my friend (well, i thought she was my friend) yelled out, loud enough for everyone to hear “aren’t you a lesbian? you told me the other day, were you just lying?” and i froze up. i wasn’t doing anything wrong, just hugging a friend. i had told her l in confidence that i didn’t think i liked boys and i believed i could trust her. and once she spoke up, a couple other of my friends backed her up and suddenly i was being pressured to put a name to my sexuality in front of a bunch of my peers and people i didn’t know. i was terrified of what could happen.

people talked about that for a long time and i lost a lot of friends because of how they reacted, whether it was sexualization, blatant lesbiphobia or saying they “knew something was off” about me. i didn’t talk to more than a handful of people for the last year and a half of high school.

the most recent time was this summer, june 12th to be precise. i had a shitty day at work and i was working through a few hour long panic attack due to the thunderstorm i had to be outside in. i got home and went straight to my room to cry. i got a good 20 minutes in until she came knocking on my door. i knew something was off right then because not only does she never knock on my door, she avoids the basement like the plague. i opened the door and she was yelling at me about leaving my laundry in the dryer or some shit, and so she had brought it down to my room. i tried to take it from her and go back to bed but she wouldn’t let me. she looked into my room, possibly for the first time since i moved into it, and noticed my flags. i felt comfortable and sage hanging them up since i knew that my parents never entered my room without my knowledge because they hate how messy it can get. but that night, she tried to force herself in. i had still been crying, the storm was still going on and i just wanted to cry myself to sleep. she asked what the flags meant. i begged her not to probe that night. i was in a bad place and i was far too tired to deal with it. i kept asking her if we could talk about it the next day. i was exhausted and i wasn’t ready. i kept saying that. “i’m not ready yet. especially not right now” and she kept forcing me. “just tell me what the flags are and then we can talk tomorrow” but there was no point in talking the next day if she forced it out of me that night. she pushed and pushed and pushed until i broke down and told her. the lesbian flag and the agender flag hanging on my wall, mocking me at this point. she had this sort of look on her face. then she looked around my room and yelled at me for it being a mess and then left.

i was closer to knowing who i was but i still wasn’t ready. i was upset with her the next few days (i honestly still am) and i only responded to her in short sentences, if i responded verbally at all. she didn’t understand why i was angry and i didn’t want to tell her. if she didn’t know why then there was no use telling her. she didn’t care about my boundaries.

we’ve never talked about it, not really. whenever my sexuality comes up in conversation, i feel like i have to force myself to pretend to be out and proud but, if i’m honest, i don’t feel like i have anything to be proud of. not getting to dictate how i came out as anything stripped away my power and confidence. i felt so powerless. coming out is supposed to be a thing that empowers people and makes them feel accepted or whatever. i never got that. i got humiliated in so many different ways for something i can’t control and something i wasn’t ready to talk about.

i’m only 18. and i’ve been forced out multiple times. i’m still a kid and i’ve been stripped powerless of my own self so many times, and i don’t see a way to recover my power. i want to be able to be myself and be happy.

i wanted to be able to just exist in my sexuality and not have to feel like i have to talk about it or explain it. lesbianism is a beautiful thing but for all i boast about it and talk about it’s beauty and how incredible it is, i couldn’t tell you how much of it is pretending i know how it feels. i know what it feels like to be accepted and to be shunned for my lesbianism, but i don’t know what it’s like to be comfortable with it. i try everyday and some days are easier than others but a lot of the time, i wonder what it would be like if i had the choice to tell people when i wanted to and not when they wanted to know. i hope one day i’ll find out

#forced outing #outing #lesbian #lesbianism #lesbiphobia #sexuality #lgbtq community #lgbt youth #this whole kit connor thing really hit me hard lol #stop forcing people to out themselves #idk if any of this made sense but i wanted to get it out there

2 notes · View notes

donteatthefishtacos · 2 years

Note

oh writer’s ask!!! I’m curious about your answers to 2, 7, 12, 17, 66, 80, por favor

Ah thanks so much for the ask! This got a little lengthy so I'm gonna put a cut here... hope this is entertaining!

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said “fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

Oooh. I’d have to say the most notable time I can remember this happening was while I was writing a scene in a short story I was writing for a college class. The characters were supposed to have this whole romantic dance and literally in the middle of writing it I had the thought of ‘The guy should be bad at dancing’… and it ended up being so much better that way.

7. tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote

Oh GOD. It’s probably still floating around ff dot net somewhere but it was an X-Files fic where after Mulder disappears in season 7 Scully ends up wishing out loud that she could go back to the beginning and know what she knows at that moment so she could do things differently. And when she wakes up the ‘next day’, it’s actually the first morning she meets him. So it kinda goes through the first couple of seasons with Scully trying to change things. Basically they just fucked a lot earlier and things weren’t so terrible for them.

12. do you ever have trouble focusing on writing? how do you get around that?

DO I EVER. What I’ve always done is just go and re-read the work I’ve got in progress, and that usually motivates me to write more of it. I’ve also got a playlist of some of my favorite songs I’ll put on if I want to write but can’t make my brain focus long enough to sit down and do it.

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Sorry, this is way more than 1 line but I just really love the flow of all this… there are certain things I’ve written where I can see it all clearly in my head… and this is one of them.

A young boy’s voice called out, “Are you the nurse?”

She found herself chuckling, “What gave me away?”

Still facing into the cabinet as she tried to move enough things back to be able to close the double doors, a voice that sounded older, deeper, and familiar began speaking. “Uh yeah, we had an incident with a hammer, Connor’s nail is bleeding a little bit, I think he needs more expert attention and he didn’t know where the nurse’s office is.”

Furrowing her brows, she pushed the doors to the cabinet closed and turned to find a distinctly older but unmistakably the same, Tom Houston. His face went blank before his mouth dropped open in recognition. His mouth moved up and down several times without a sound before he finally uttered two words that she swore sounded better out of his mouth than anyone else’s ever had.

“Becky Barnes?”

66. when have you felt the most confident in your writing?

It’s happened a few times since I’ve gotten back into writing, but any time I can sit down and just hammer out a scene or chapter I’ve already played through in my head and it just flows like I’d wanted it to.

Also: literally any time I’m writing some sort of shenanigan I just always feel like it works in a way I have to work harder at with any other type of mood.

80. do you try to put themes, motifs, messages, morals, etc in your writing? if so, how do you go about it?

Absolutely.. I do a lot of this through kind of sketching out the major beats of a plot and if there’s some sort of idea or message I want to have show up throughout I just work on finding places I can have them show up in little moments in different spots throughout the story. Think a lot of paralleled situations or recurring songs or emotional moments. I try hard to be subtle… I’m never sure if it is.

#fanfic #prompt #ember-twin

5 notes · View notes

detectiveconnor · 1 year

Text

@jericholeader i just really really wanted to write this and so here it is

“You don’t talk about your mother,” Markus observed, voice low and even. He was not trying to push, just… wondering; what little conversation they’d had about her was establishing that she was, in fact, alive, and Connor had lied about it when they’d first met, and the vast majority of people he knew still thought she was dead.

It didn’t matter, really, why he had chosen that lie about her, or whether he ever wanted to tell Markus the truth about it. It wasn’t related to this discussion about the guest list for the wedding. If Connor had said, I don’t want her there and left it at that, it would have been left exactly there. No more, no less.

Markus’ hand was warm over the top of his own, now. Connor wanted him to know the truth. He opened his mouth to share it (she left me for dead; I was never enough for her; wanting to be who I was made her angry; I loved her for a long time and I am not sure she thought about me at all) and he said, “I think she scares me."

The hand over the top of his own did not withdraw. Markus stayed exactly where he was, although perhaps with a tilt of his head, furrow of his brow: listening. Not wanting to interrupt.

Connor didn’t know that was the truth until he said it out loud, and he still wasn’t sure it was the truth. Since moving to Detroit he had very rarely thought about Amanda Stern at all. He knew vaguely that her work was ongoing, in Oregon, and that occasionally her old colleagues would reach out to him because they thought knowing what he was up to was a way to impress Amanda; she had called him twice since he left, once to ask him for good press in Detroit and once to tell him she was ill, and neither of those two times… neither one of them had made him feel very much at all.

Afraid? She’d never struck him, that he could remember. She’d never been violent. She’d rarely even been home.

Fear did not have to have a clear source, Connor worked with people who were afraid every day, but usually he had… some direction the fear might have come from. “She didn’t want me to exist. I tried not to.” She had wanted a child, or a pet maybe. Someone who would do as she asked, be what she told them to be. This, saying this, felt wildly vulnerable; it felt precisely like that same instinct to not be here which he’d picked up intentionally, once upon a time, and hadn’t put down again.

He had loved her. He’d really thought…

“I don’t-“ understand sounded petulant, more pathetic than Connor was going for. He knew that it wasn’t an exchange, that there wasn’t anything he could have done to have altered it and even if he had, a parent was meant to love their child, that was the one key element of the role. All of these things, he knew. Connor swallowed. Took a moment to organise his thoughts, because it was unlike him to be speaking without knowing what was going to come out of his mouth, in the first place; like the truth had found its way out on its own, of its own volition, impatient to be known.

Breath in. Breath out.

He laced his fingers through Markus’ and turned their hands over, fidgeting.

“I don’t miss,” he decided on, “not being able to choose anything.” He didn’t miss not being able to choose. He didn’t miss trying to find some control in numbers on a scale. He didn’t miss trying to make choice out of the most mundane parts of his life because they were the only parts that were his in the first place. It was his, actually. All of it was his. “I’m not… afraid of her,” maybe not, he decided – he was thinking aloud here, “but getting out of…” another swallow. Okay. Tell him. Truth. (Connor spoke to their hands, said this whole sentence and only peeked up for Markus’ response when he was done saying it, to read his response): “Getting out of there was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

#jericholeader #about connor #v; breathe (human)#verse information (human)#'getting out of there is the hardest thing i've ever done' getting away from her getting out of oregon getting on top of an eating disorder #leaving that part of his life where he Was Trying Not To Exist behind #hardest thing he's ever done. if he had to narrow it down - the eating disorder #but all of it. all of it is the hardest thing he's ever done.#and that includes all of the .... all of the things that have happened to each of them since they met each other #hardest thing.#ic

1 note · View note

herrmannhalsteadproduction · 2 years

Text

There's a Way (Chapter Four)

Summary: This is Part Thirteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen Audiences and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz & Original Female Character, pre-Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes

Warnings: Stress over coming out, discussion of past abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, Pat Halstead being a horrible human being, angst with a happy ending.

A/N: I'll post the link to the ao3 page at the bottom. This story has not only an OC character, but some quirky elements which may or may not be everyone's jam. Just FYI. Updates will be slow coming as I pick away at them during breaks from work. I couldn't take a full break from this though - I'm too excited to write it so I made working on this series my reward for when I get stuff done, lol

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Bex

Bex woke up early the next morning and tiptoed out into the hallway. She didn’t want to leave things the way they were after last night, but she didn’t want to force Will to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to talk about either.

A nice apology breakfast would probably be a good start. What said ‘I’m sorry for pushing, but I’m also here if you want to talk’? Pancakes for sure. Bacon probably wasn’t a bad idea.

A note on the table caught her eye as she entered the kitchen. Will’s familiar scrawl standing out on the page.

Bex – Went for a run. Sorry I didn’t wait. I’m not mad. Just needed some alone time. Love, Will

Her stomach dipped as she read the words in front of her. He might not be mad, but this whole situation felt like two steps back for them. She sighed.

Okay. He needed some space. She could respect that. It just meant she had extra time to work on breakfast and figure out where to go from there.

***

Will

He’d been at the park for twenty minutes now—running faster, harder—waiting for the sound of his footfalls, his breath, his heart to drown out the noise in his brain.

Instead, every step was punctuated by his father’s voice.

Bex’s words.

Jay’s face.

And worry.

Step.

Worry.

Step.

Worry that everything was about to fall apart.

“Will! Hey, Will!”

His head jerked up at the sound of his name. Connor came jogging up on his left, breath coming out in short pants as he caught up.

“Whew, slow down, man,” Connor huffed out a laugh. “I’ve been calling you and chasing you since the fountain.”

“Sorry.” Will automatically slowed his pace to align with Connor’s. “I just—got in a groove, I guess.”

“No, no, don’t apologize.” Connor shook his head. “I’m thinking I should be running with you more often. I’ll be in amazing shape in no time.”

He nodded with an absent hum.

“And this is where you say, ‘Connor, you’re already in amazing shape!’” “What—oh, crap, sorry—” Will gave himself a shake and tried to focus on the man beside him, looking over in time to see a teasing smile fade into a concerned frown.

“You okay?” Connor asked.

“Yeah, I’m—I’m, uh…” Will decreased his speed even further until they were walking side by side down the path. “No, not really,” he admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Connor’s voice was soft…hesitant…giving Will room to think. “Or I can leave you alone if you’d prefer.”

“No,” Will said quickly.

Connor waited a beat and then tilted his head at Will expectantly. “Help me out a little more here, Will,” he said. “No to which one?”

“Both?” Will laughed mirthlessly.

“Okay, we can do that.” Connor walked beside him quietly. Not pushing. Not making a move to fill the silence.

Eventually, Will’s heartbeat came down and his breathing evened out enough for him to take a deep breath.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “But I know I have to. It’s—there’s things I should talk about with Bex…and Jay. I just—I don’t know where to start or how it will go.” He kept his eyes resolutely on the path in front of him. “I’m scared.”

A hand touched his elbow gently and he stopped in his tracks. Connor came around to face him. “Do you want to practice on me?”

“You?” Will’s head snapped up. “Tell you?”

“Why not?” Connor shrugged. “I’m a good listener. And if you’re worried about how they’ll react, going over what you want to say might make it easier to get it all out when you talk to them.”

His indecision must have showed on his face.

“I’m your friend, Will,” Connor said. “Anything you tell me stays between us. I’m not going to judge or do any of those things that are running through your brain right now. I promise.”

Will blew out a heavy breath and nodded. “Okay—yeah. Let’s—if you don’t mind—”

“Come on.” Connor steered him off the path and they took a seat on a bench overlooking the water. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Will knotted his fingers in his lap, trying to figure out how to begin. How to unravel these pieces he’d kept wrapped up so tightly inside himself for years.

“There was no such thing as gay in Pat Halstead’s house,” he began haltingly and kept going at Connor’s understanding nod. Bit by bit, he laid out his darkest parts, still bleeding at the edges, and waited for Connor to…walk away…recoil…tell him his dad was right…

“Jesus, Will,” Connor sat back on the bench and ran a hand through his hair with an explosive sigh. “I thought my dad was bad, but yours is a grade A piece of shit.”

That startled a laugh out of Will. “Bex has been calling him that since she was twelve.”

“Can I—” Connor reached out and Will nodded, not really knowing what he was asking for, but feeling sure at this point it couldn’t be anything bad.

He pulled Will’s hands apart and took one in his own. “I am so sorry you went through that, Will,” he said, squeezing Will’s hand between his. “He was horrible and cruel and wrong. And I hate that you’ve kept that inside you for so long.”

Connor hesitated for a moment. “I don’t want to push you in any way,” he said. “But I’ve gotten to know Bex and Jay a bit and I think you should talk to them if you feel like you can. I think it would be good for you to have more people supporting you.”

“You might be right,” Will said. “It just still feels like a minefield, you know?”

“Yeah, I mean, my family never talked about anything,” Connor said, nodding. “Keeping up the Rhodes family image had a lot to do with that. Can’t have any problems if you don’t acknowledge them and all that.” He ran his thumb over the back of Will’s hand.

“It took me a long time to unlearn that,” he said. “And a lot of destructive habits had to be broken along the way.” Connor shook his head at the memory. “But once I started doing that work and I reached out to my sister, we both realized how alone we’d felt. And talking about things keeps getting easier with time.”

He sat up suddenly, squeezing Will’s hand again. “I’m not trying to compare my situation with yours,” he said. “Honestly, when I came out, my parents were more concerned with setting me up with guys from influential families and using that to network.” Connor cocked an eyebrow at Will with a little rueful grin. “I’m just saying that…family can surprise you sometimes. I think it could be worth it to give yours the chance to be there for you.”

Sitting there, Will almost wished he could skip ahead a bit—through talking to Bex and Jay and airing out his past and moving forward—because Bex was right.

He could really date this man.

Will squeezed his hand back. “Thanks, Connor,” he said. “This really helped.”

“Any time,” Connor smiled at him and then looked down at their joined hands with a little laugh. “Sorry—that was, uh—that was a whole lot of hand holding, wasn’t it?” He let go and Will instantly missed the warmth.

“I didn’t mind.” He could feel himself blushing, but he didn’t want Connor to feel bad or weird about this. Not for giving Will the comfort he’d needed.

Connor’s smile got wider. “Good to know.”

Will checked his watch and stood up. Bex would definitely be up by now. “I should head back,” he said, gesturing toward the parking lot. “Thanks again, Connor. I mean it.”

“And I meant any time.”

He started to head back to his car when Connor called after him.

“Hey, Will! We never got to race today.”

“Oh,” Will scratched the back of his head, not quite sure where Connor was going with this. “Sorry—”

“No, I’m just saying,” Connor grinned at him. “You owe me a dance.”

Will waved him off, laughing. Connor had been right that practicing helped. He felt more grounded than he had thirty minutes ago.

Connor was right about Bex and Jay too. Will was still scared, but for the first time, he felt ready to let them all the way in.

*** Bex

She heard the keys jingle in the door and dashed out to the living room. “Will,” she called out as soon as he came in the door. “Will, hi, I’m so glad you’re back. Listen, about last night—”

“Bex.” Will held up a hand. “Stop. It’s okay, I promise.”

“Well, just in case,” Bex steered him toward the kitchen. “I made some ‘I’m sorry I was being nosy about your love life, you don’t owe me any information about that side of you and I shouldn’t have been pressuring you at all, it’s entirely up to you and I support your choices, please accept my apology’ pancakes.” She took a breath. “And bacon.”

“Wow,” Will said. “Those sound intense. Where’d you find that recipe? Food Network?”

She felt a bit of tension in her chest loosen. He was making jokes. That was good. Okay. They could get through this. They were so much better at getting through things than they used to be.

“I really am sorry, Will,” Bex said.

“I know.” Will wrapped her up in a hug. “And there are things I want to talk about with you. And Jay.” He released her and stepped back. “So why don’t we eat this amazing breakfast you made and then I’ll grab a shower and maybe you can ask Jay to come over?”

“Deal,” Bex grabbed the orange juice and set it down on the table. She paused before handing over a glass because she had to make sure. “Will, you know I’m here for you, right? Whatever it is, whatever you want to talk about, I’m in your corner.”

“Yeah, Bex,” Will said with a soft smile. “I know.”

Click here for Chapter Five. Click here for Chapter Six. Click here for Chapter Seven - Bonus Content

Click here to read There's a Way on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed): @sorry-i-spaced, @iunnowatuwant, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter

#chicago fire #chicago med #chicago pd #one chicago #christopher herrmann #jay halstead #will halstead #halstead brothers #oc character #rebecca 'bex' herrmann #halstead sister #angst #hurt/comfort #alternate universe #not canon #not beta read #my first fanfic series #A Herrmann/Halstead Production

17 notes · View notes