#three pine | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

462 notes · View notes

quicksilverdaisyday · 4 months

Text

BUT YOU REALLY NEED TO LISTEN TO ME, BECAUSE I’M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH, I MEAN THIS, I’M OKAY (trust me.)

#scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim vs the world #scott pilgrim fanart #kim pine #knives chau #stephen stills #young neil #neil nordegraf #young neil nordegraf #mcr #my chemical romance #three cheers for sweet revenge #sex bob-omb #this is what i meant by sex bob-omb emo phase btw

563 notes · View notes

xspeter · 20 days

Text

𖦹 part of the “dancing with our hands tied” collection. main masterlist

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇... Luke discovers the three times he denied his feelings for you, and the one time he accepted them.

W.C: 5K

Incident One: The Nurses Station

Luke knows that you’re annoyed with him, it was written all over your face. You wouldn’t say it aloud, of course not, you were too sweet, but you had no concept of a poker face.

He thought it was cute, the way your eyebrows knitted and your shoulders tensed. The way you avoided looking at him because you knew he could see right through you.

You suck in your bottom lip as you waltz over to him with a pack of bandages and alcohol. You sit on the stool in front of him, knocking his knees open with your own so you can roll yourself between them, the wheels screeching a little as you do.

You stare at him with an intensity Luke has only ever seen from you once, and it’s when he was in an all too familiar situation with Lance Tenning.

The situations were all too eerily similar- both involving something being said about you. It didn’t matter if it was to your face or behind your back, Luke just couldn’t tolerate it. He couldn’t listen to your name get thrown around in the mud because you rejected the Ares child, not when you were so sweet and kind.

So, of course when Luke heard Lance whisper to his dimwit friends about how, “That bitch just can’t stop slutting herself out for Castellan,” he had to intervene.

And it’s not Luke’s fault that Lance got all defensive, and it’s not Luke’s fault that Lance pushed him, and it definitely wasn’t Luke’s fault when Lance ended up on the ground with a fresh black eye.

Luke can’t help but grin as the sight of Lance writhing beneath him replays in his mind, and you glare up at him with that knowing look in your eye. “I don’t know what you have to be smiling about right now.” You spit.

Luke furrows his brows, allowing you to inspect his bloody knuckles, before he grins and uses his free hand to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m here with you, why wouldn’t I be smiling?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “Right, of course.”

“It’s true!”

You don’t say anything, just beginning to clean his knuckles. The sting is so familiar to Luke that he barely even reacts, just placing his other hand behind him and leaning back.

It’s weird, because Luke knows you’re mad at him. But you still handle him with so much care, so much gentleness- as if he’s fragile and the slightest movement could shatter him to pieces. It’s sweet, and just another example of how much you care.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve a friend like you.

Luke can see you itching to ask him something, from the way you keep glancing up at him and the constant gnawing on your lip. And Luke knows you won’t ask- not be your own volition, anyway. You didn’t like confrontation, in fact, you made it a point to stay as far away from it as possible, so unless Luke said something, you never would.

“What’re you thinking about in that pretty head of yours?”

Luke notices the way your breath hitches at the word pretty, but he doesn’t think anything of it. You’d always been particularly sensitive to compliments, not just the ones from him. You let out a brisk sigh, finally able to let out the question you’d been holding in.

“Why did you do it, Luke? Again? After I already told you to just leave it alone?” Your voice waivers slightly, and he can see the obvious distress in your eyes. It made him almost… regretful. He never wanted to be the reason you felt anything other than happy, but he knew you wouldn’t understand it. You were so quick to let people walk all over you- let them treat you like shit and then say it was all fine and dandy.

Luke couldn't do that, though. He’d honestly rather die than watch you break yourself for people who didn’t give two-shits about you.

His lips thin, and he watches as you avert your gaze from his face and back to his hand, beginning to wrap a brown bandage around it.

“You didn’t hear what he said about you, Sweetheart. I couldn’t just listen to those awful things and pretend it wasn’t happening!” He sucks in a breath, waiting for your response.

You tense slightly, eyes darting between his face and his hand. “I never asked you to do that. I can handle myself-”

Luke snorts, interrupting you abruptly, “Can you? Because the last time this happened, you were going to let him get away with it. And that time he’d said it straight to your face!”

You finish tying his bandage swiftly, immediately dropping his hand and practically sprinting as far away from him as you can get.

You run the bridge of your nose, “Because I don’t want to start any problems! Lance isn’t just going to stop because you hit him a couple times, so there’s no point to it!” You scoff out a laugh, running a hand through your hair. “I mean, why do you care so much anyway?”

Luke goes silent at that. You were his best friend, of course he cared, but…

Why does this feel different? He wouldn’t beat someone for any of his other friends. Hell, he’s not sure he would do that for anyone. So why did he do it for you?

The answer is on the tip of his tongue, itching to be said and confessed, but he just can’t figure out what it is, and it’s driving him mad.

“‘Cause you’re my best friend!” He says it with a wince, like the words are foreign and wrong. And you flinch back at the phrase too. It makes him nauseous.

He watches as you swallow, hard. Eyelashes fluttering as you blink back the glossiness forming in your eyes. “I know that.” You mumble, “I’m just so sick of watching you hurt yourself and other people for me. I’m not worth getting kicked out of camp.”

Luke’s heart breaks a little bit when you say that, because he couldn’t believe you would even think that. To him, you were worth everything. Getting kicked out of camp, getting exiled by the gods, fuck- you were worth the world. All you had to do was say the word and Luke would be on his knees in front of you, praising the altar that you so graciously allowed him to admire.

He risked taking a step towards you, and he let out a small, relieved sigh when you didn't take a step away. “Do you seriously think that?”

Your eyes trailed his body, all the way from his lower stomach to his eyes, and Luke couldn’t help but shiver as they did. He closed the distance between you until you were nearly chest to chest, your breathing slowed and eyes wide. You were so goddamn beautiful, it was almost painful.

“Do you really think… I wouldn’t betray the fucking Gods if you asked me to? That I wouldn’t do anything for you?” His voice was low and husky, fingers grazing your arm and trailing up to your cheekbone. “I would rather I got kicked out of camp before I let some piece of shit like Lance Tenning speak a single word about you.”

You were nearly speechless, unable to move as the space between you got smaller and smaller. “Luke..” You whispered. And Luke felt it, that familiar twist in his gut, the one he couldn’t name.

And just as he was about to understand it- to accept it- some little kid ran into the room, crying about a cut they got on their hand. You didn’t even spare Luke a second glance as you rushed over to them and whispered sweet nothings in their ear, crouching down and kissing their hand better.

But, even as he excused himself and began the walk back to his own cabin, the strange feeling never really did leave him.

Incident Two: The Lake

Percy Jackson is the most oblivious person Luke has ever met.

It was seriously obvious to anyone with eyes that Annabeth was in love with him, especially after their quest last year. Her lingering touches, smiles a bit too wide, eyes glued to him anytime they were within ten feet of each other. It was completely obvious.

Even now, as Annabeth and Percy chase each other in the lake, hair sticking to their skin and water dribbling from their eyelashes, Annabeth's crush is noticeable in the way she looks at him.

Luke thinks it’s cute, honestly. He wants his little sister to find someone that loves her just as much as she loves them, and Percy Jackson was definitely that guy. He just needed to stop being an idiot and realize it.

“Hey, Luke?”

Luke’s ears perk up at the sound of you behind him, and he looks away from the two teens and towards you.

You and your light pink one-piece swimsuit. You and the little bow in your hair, watching intently as you tug it loose and let your hair cascade down your shoulders. You and your perfect lips and nose and-

“Can you help me tie this, please?”

You turn your back to him, and Luke swallows hard once he realizes your swimsuit is open back, which allows him to see the curve of your spine and the pretty freckles and moles that dot your skin like stars.

He watches as you struggle to tie the bathing suit strings around your neck, fingers moving around with zero coordination.

So, despite the obvious burning in his cheeks and the unexplainable feelings that brew in his stomach, he says: “Um, yeah. ‘Course I can.”

His breathing slowed as you whispered a quiet thanks, allowing Luke to softly brush your hair over your shoulder and take the strings from your fingers.

He tied it effectively, probably taking much longer than he should have, but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were so close and he could smell your perfume- lemons and vanilla. It was honestly the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled.

He tightened the bow around your neck, touch lingering on your back as his hands ghosted over your skin. He sucked in a breath, watching as his fingers trailed to your shoulders, as if they weren’t his own. And maybe they weren’t.

Slowly, he placed a small kiss on your shoulder, relishing in the way your breathing hitched and your spine shuddered.

And then there was that feeling again, the one he doesn’t quite understand. The one he just can’t place his finger on.

You turn around as Luke’s plush lips leave your shoulder, eyes a bit wide and lips parted, like there’s a question you’re dying to ask but you don’t allow yourself to.

You giggle nervously, glancing at Luke’s pink cheeks and tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, the way you always do when you’re nervous. “I, uh, thanks. For tying it! Not for… anything else. Obviously.” You ramble.

Luke just nods, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was no problem. I mean, what else are friends for?”

He pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyebrows furrow and your shoulders deflate a bit at the word friends. Because, that's what you were, right? That’s all you were. Luke couldn’t understand why you’d ever be disappointed because of it.

You blink a couple times, doing your best to hide the way your voice shakes. “Yeah. Friends.”

Luke grins, happy that you’re both on the same page, and gently taps your arm. “Good. Look, I have to go make sure nobody drowns, but I'll see you later, alright?”

You nod, waving him off with a small mhm. But, even as Luke walks away and the smile returns to your face as you greet one of your sisters, the disappointment that lingers in your eyes doesn’t leave his head.

Why would you be dissapointed? And… why did he feel the same?

Incident three: The Bondfire

Luke wasn’t one to get jealous. He had no reason to be, he was perfectly content with where he was in his friendships and he didn’t have any girl he was involved with.

So why did the sight of you giggling with an Aphrodite boy make his blood boil?

The boy, Carter Rhodes, was notorious around camp for dating around. Almost every girl had a story with him, and Luke had thought you knew that, so why were you talking to him?

He watches as Carter leans into you, his lips inches away from your ear. You throw your head back and laugh. Actually laugh. Not the fake giggle you usually give people, no. It’s the laugh you give Luke when he visits you in the nurses station. Or when you spend the night with him. Or even when you’re just with him!

It's his laugh. So why were you letting Carter fucking Rhodes hear it?

“Uh, Luke, are you okay?”

Luke’s head whips to Percy, who’s giving him a disturbed look. It’s then that he notices he was gripping his plastic cup so hard, it had crushed in on the sides.

Luke swallows, blinking a few times to try and clear his mind, but the image of you and Carter doesn’t leave. “Uh,” He sniffles, eyes darting between you and Percy, “I’m all good.”

Percy nods, a sarcastic uh-huh falling from his lips. His blue eyes trail to you, and a smirk creeps onto his face.

Sure, Percy was oblivious when it came to his own love life, but yours and Luke’s? He was basically an expert.

Percy takes a seat on the log next to Luke, watching as the brunette boy struggles to keep his eyes on the ground and not on you. It’s amusing, honestly, the fact that Luke thinks he’s anything but obvious with his feelings for you.

“I get it, man. It’s hard watching the girl you like flirt with other dudes.”

At first, Percy’s comment doesn’t register in his brain and he agrees that, yes, it is hard watching the girl you like flirt with other dudes. And then he think real hard.. the girl you like..

“What? I don’t like her! I mean, I do like her as a friend but, I don’t like like her.”

Percy watches with amusement as Lukes cheeks turn a shade of pink and he trips over his words, practically shaking as he tries to shut down the accusation. The blonde sighs, shaking his head with a tut. “Oh, Luke. Sweet, innocent, Luke.” He claps a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it obnoxiously. “You are absolutely whipped.”

Luke scoffs and shrugs Percy off of him, shooting him a glare. “Right, like you’re any better. I see the heart eyes you and Annie give each other. But, me and Y/N aren’t like that! We’re just- just friends.”

The word feels like poison on his tongue, practically burning as he forces it out. It was true, you’re his friend! So why did he hate saying it?

He thinks back to that odd feeling he gets in his stomach when he’s with you, wondering if maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to Percy’s words.

But he immediately shoots the idea down. Even if Luke did see you as anything other than a friend, you’d never feel the same. You’d seen Luke at the lowest point in his life, right after his quest. You’d seen him angry, you’d seen him cry. How could you ever love someone so… unloveable?

Percy goes a deep shade of red, eyes widening as he immediately deflects. “Annabeth and I are not like you and Y/N! I don’t even- even like her. Gods, gross..” He pretends to gag, but Luke sees the way the blondes eyes immediately trail to where Annabeth sits talking to her siblings.

Luke lets out a chuckle, standing and ignoring the pop in his knees. He claps Percy on the back, “Keep telling yourself that, Lover Boy.” And swiftly finds his way over to you.

It’s ridiculous, yes. Luke knows that, but he wasn’t doing this out of jealousy. No, it’s because he’s worried- just like he usually is. He can’t help it! You’re just so naive and trusting, someone’s gotta be there to make sure you don’t get hurt!

Carter spots him first, and Luke pretends the immediate frown that falls onto his face as he does doesn’t make him proud. Like Carter knows that as soon as you see him, whatever bullshit he was trying to do with you would immediately be discarded.

Luke walks up right behind you, placing both hands on your shoulders and rubbing them just the way you like it. “Hey, Sweetheart.”

Your neck cranes as you look up at him, a wide, toothy smile on your lips. “Luke! Where’ve you been?”

He shrugs, sitting on the log next to you and continuing his massage on your shoulders. His thumbs move to rub circles into your back, on the places he knows you get tense the most, and you let out a low moan of approval, eyes falling shut. “‘missed you.” You breathe.

Luke chuckles, watching as Carter pretends to not be as angry as he really is. “Sorry, baby. Had to give lessons to some of the younger kids today.”

He doesn’t miss the way goosebumps rise into your skin despite the warm fire, or the way your spine goes completely rigid at the nickname. A proud smirk spreads onto his face as he finished his work with a chaste kiss to you shoulder, making sure to let it linger for longer than he normally would.

When he comes up, he pretends to finally notice Carter, putting on his best shocked face. “Oh! Carter, my bad, I didn’t see you. How’ve you been?”

Carter gives him a mean mug, jaw rippling as he nods. “Sure you didn’t, Castellan.”

You look at Luke with confusion, and then back to Carter, obviously being able to sense the thick tension between them. “Carter, what’s wrong?”

Carter blinks a few times, before his face relaxes and the sultry smooth smirk returns. “Nothin’ babe,” He places a gentle hand onto your thigh, thumb tracing small circles into it. “Just can’t believe how pretty you look.”

Luke doesn’t miss the wink Carter throws his way, or the way your cheeks flush as you giggle nervously. It was nearly unbelievable the audacity Carter had! To touch you right in front of him- to make you blush and giggle like a schoolgirl in love?

Luke sighs, leaning close and whispering in your ear. “Let’s go back to my cabin, yeah?” Immediately turn to him, and Luke knows he’s won. Honestly, did Carter ever even have a chance? It was almost cruel to let him think he had.

You swallow, eyes trailing Luke as he stands and offers a hand to you, a casual grin on his face. You say a quick goodbye to Carter without even sparing him a glance, and take Luke’s hand.

You let him lead you away, but Luke looks over his shoulder and smirks at Carter’s look of disbelief. He sends him a wink just as he did earlier, and then turns back to you.

You're looking at the ground in front of you, lips parted as you glance towards him. Your hands stay connected the whole way back to his cabin, but no words are exchanged between you.

He's not surprised to find the cabin empty, instead he relishes in it. The Hermes Cabin had so many residents, moments of solitude in it were hard to come by. So when they did, he always made sure to enjoy them as much as he could.

He drops your hand as soon as the door closes behind the two of you, plopping onto his bed with a sigh. He watches as you wrap your arms around yourself, maintaining a large distance between the two of you which he finds strange.

Normally, you always join him on his bed, allowing him to play with your fingers or hair and having deep conversations that he always enjoys. But, no, tonight you’re looking at him like there’s a question you want to ask, like it’s practically burning in your throat and you need to spit it out, but you don’t. You let it burn, gnawing on your lower lip.

His eyebrows furrow and he stands, walking towards you. You don’t move back, but you don’t look at him either. Not until his hands are on your upper arms, holding you in place gently. He tilts his head slightly, “What’s the matter?”

You suck in a breath, finally looking up at him through your lashes, and then your gaze finds the floor again, as if it hurts to look at him for more than a second. You stumble a bit as you talk, “Is there a reason you were being so weird back there? I mean, you’re never… never really that touchy when we’re with other people.”

Luke thinks back, remembering how he’d rubbed your back and shoulders, called you baby, kissed your skin… and he realizes that you’re right. The most he ever does in public is give you a quick kiss anywhere but your lips before he leaves you, and that’s that.

He doesn’t call you pet names, doesn’t touch you. So why did he do it now? His mouth goes dry, but he makes sure to keep his cool and calm exterior, dropping his hands from your skin, and shrugging nonchalantly. “Uh, no, not really. I just missed you.”

You snort, and squeeze your arms tighter around yourself. Finally, you look up at him, and Luke can’t help the way he basks in it. Your look, no matter if it’s angry or happy or sad, leaves butterflies in his stomach that he can’t explain.

“So, that’s all? You just missed me?”

He nods, “That's pretty much it.”

He doesn’t miss the hurt that flashes in your eyes. You never were good at hiding your emotions, no matter how hard you tried. It’s something he lov- liked about you. Something he liked.

Your arms fall to your sides, nostrils flaring a bit as you scoff. “Really? It’s not because you were- were jealous that I was finally talking to someone who might like me?”

Luke couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him. Did you really think Carter wanted to be with you for anything outside of another two week fling? “Please,” He sighs, “You had to know Carter was just flirting with you to have sex with you!”

You stare at him with wide eyes, jaw hanging open as tears well in your lash line. He doesn’t understand it- why were you being like this right now? Couldn’t you see he was just looking out for you like he normally did?

“What if I wanted that too, huh? What if I wanted to stop waiting around like an idiot for someone who will never see me as anything more than a friend!”

There’s that word again, but this time it’s like a punch to the gut. It’s like bitter poison falling from your mouth, like the wrath of the Gods had finally caught up to him. It hurts more than he’d like to admit.

He risks taking a step closer to you, but you take one back, maintaining distance between you. “What are you talking about, Y/N?”

The question hangs in the air like smoke, filling up his lungs and leaving him unable to breathe. Because deep down- he thinks he knows. Deep down, the answer shines like a light in the middle of the darkness, begging to be seen. But he doesn’t want to see it yet- can’t let himself see it yet. He doesn’t deserve to.

Your head turns to the side, arms crossing over your chest once more. “Nothing. I have to go.” You murmur, beginning to walk away from him, but in a desperate attempt to get you to stay he snags your wrist.

You tug at him, something you rarely ever do, and it leaves him nearly speechless. Still, he persists, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

You freeze, but Luke doesn’t miss the way your voice waivers as you whisper, “If you can’t tell, then I won't be the one to tell you.”

With that you break from his hold, slamming the door shut behind you and leaving him completely alone. Now, that solitude he’d reveled in feels like snow creeping into his skin, encasing him in an endless chill.

Incident Four: The Apollo Cabin

Luke knows that you know it’s him knocking on your window. None of your siblings, with the exception of maybe one, have people sneaking in at late hours of the night.

He also knows that you’re not asleep. There’s no way- not after what was said between the two of you barely two hours ago. That's why he continues his knocks, coming up with new combinations, partially out of boredom and partially to annoy you enough to force you to open it.

And it works, he watches with a shit-eating grin as the window rolls open and you glare at him. “What?” You growl, glancing behind you to make sure none of your siblings woke up. “What do you want?”

He bites the inside of his cheek, gesturing for you to move back as he makes the familiar crawl through your window. He lands softly, so familiar with the environment that he knows where to step so he makes the least noise. “Couldn’t go to sleep knowing you were mad at me.” He mumbles.

You deadpan at him, a hand on your hip as you shake your head. “I’m not mad. Will you go back to your own cabin now?”

He shakes his head, eyes lingering on your messy hair and bare face. You never wore a lot of makeup, there was no point when the sun would melt it right off, but seeing you like this- unfiltered and completely real, he’s not sure you’ve ever looked more beautiful.

“You’re mad, Y/N. I know you are.” He sighs, and you swallow, wrapping your arms around yourself and looking to the side. “No, I'm not.”

He likes your stubbornness. Likes the way your lips pucker out slightly and your skin prickles with goosebumps when a breeze slips through the open window. He likes everything about the way you look at him, even when you’re angry.

“Yes, you are. And you have every reason to be. I was.. being selfish. I shouldn’t have dragged you away from Carter because I was mad you were talking to someone outside of me. It wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes shine a little, biting on your lower lip in thought. “Luke-” You start, but he doesn’t let you finish. “You’re allowed to do what you want. And.. if you want to have sex with Carter then, you know, you can do that.”

You chuckle, shaking your head with a sniff, “I don’t want to have sex with Carter.”

He can’t help the relief that floods his veins as you say this, letting out a small groan of approval. “Oh, thank the Gods. You are way too good for that douchebag.”

You grin, stepping closer to him. Luke inhales as your familiar scent fills his nostrils, and it smells like home. Like something he was always meant to know.

“Yeah, wherever. Will you stay here with me tonight?” You ask, though Luke knows you already know his answer. Still, he amuses you, nodding dumbly and allowing you to lead him into your bed.

You settle under the covers, which smell like you, and he feels your limbs tangle together and your head find his chest, like a lock and key molding together in the form it was always made to be.

Your body is warm, warmer than his anyway, and your skin is so soft. Years of handling medicine has done you justice, a huge contrast to the roughness of his own, years of training has left him battered and scarred.

Still, you trace lines into the skin of his stomach, ear flat against his chest giving you full access to the beat of his heart.

“Luke?” You murmur, and he hums, running a hand through your hair, gently brushing out the knots. “Yeah, Sweetheart?”

You’re silent for a moment, before finally you softly say, “It’ll be us forever, right? No matter what happens?”

Luke is almost shocked how fast the word yes fills his thoughts. He hasn’t ever thought about what would come after camp, after you both left and your lives changed and you grew up.

Would you be there for that? Would you want to be there for that? He hopes your answer is yes.

“Forever.” He whispers, kissing the top of your head and pulling you tighter against him, “I promise.”

You sigh happily, closing your eyes and drifting to sleep. It’s then that Luke realizes what that feeling in his stomach is. The one he can never name, the one that begs to roll off of his tongue like hot acid.

Because , while Luke knew he himself was unloveable, with his trauma and scars, did that mean he was unable to love? Did he even deserve to feel that?

He's not sure, but right now, with you laying on his chest like it’s just the two of you in the whole world, he thinks he accidently let it happen.

He fell in love with you without ever even knowing it, and he’s not sure he ever wants to stop.

taglist: @apolloscastellan @ddarling-ddearest-ddead

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #fanfic #fluff #three times one time format #dancing with our hands tied #idiots in love #pining

275 notes · View notes

parrot-waxcap · 1 year

Text

Me the entirety of episode seven when Ellie just spends the whole time looking at Riley with gay longing in her eyes:

#I know because I constantly look at my gf like that #I know that look of pining well #I had a crush on my gf for three years before our friends called us out on our bullshit #so believe me when I say I KNOW what the friends to lovers gay pining looks like #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams #riley abel #ellie x riley #tlou spoilers

2K notes · View notes

carnivalcarriondiscarded · 10 months

Note

Lights out! Poppy: Ahh I had such a refreshing na- Why is Sally glowing?

LMFAO YEAH. pretty much how it goes...

#this was the First meme to pop into my mind upon reading this ask #also heyyyyy finally Seriously drew poppy - damage and all!#to that one person who wanted to see her! here she is!!!#but ohhhh man oh man have i been having Popstar feelings pertaining to this au...#sally being completely inaccessible #like at least frank can go see eddie and sit with him if he wants. hold his Unconscious Hand.#but poppy can't go anywhere near her shining star....#also sally becoming something poppy should be terrified of but. but poppy being unable to be afraid #like. nightlight!sally being the One Thing poppy can't muster up any fear of #scribble salad #wh lights out au #rambles from the bog #the PINING poppy experiences in this au... yeah #ough and them in act two???? yall-#the lesbianisms.... the Tenderness.... the Understanding....#without poppy i can say confidently that sally would Not make it to act three or four #oh god now im thinking about act two and im making myself sad OKAY POST OVER THANK YOU BYE

556 notes · View notes

chronicowboy · 1 month

Text

every part of you (simple as that) | 2.8k

"Do you ever think about having kids?" The words fall from Buck's lips the moment Tommy returns from the bar with their beers. He flounders a little, mouth opening and closing like he can suck the words back in. To his credit, Tommy only blinks in surprise and takes a second too long to unwrap his fingers from the neck of the bottle when Buck reaches for it.

"Uh, no, not really," he says carefully, evenly. And Buck's only the tiniest bit disappointed that it doesn't fluster the man more. Tommy just joins him in leaning against the railing of the gazebo, hip and shoulder solid points of contact that Buck relishes in. The warm, strong weight of Tommy against him soothing the pacing dog in his chest. "I mean, I used to. When I still thought I was straight." He huffs a little laugh at himself, and Buck shares in it. A new feeling, wistful amusement. The years lost to a question you never thought to ask, or one you couldn't find the courage to answer. "It's what you do, you know? You find a nice woman, you get married, you have kids."

"Mm," Buck hums ins agreement, taking a sip of his own beer. It's a thought he's had countless times, a thought he continues to have, but now it's not always a woman standing up there at the altar with him. "You don't think about it now?"

"I never really considered it. Not with the job and everything." Tommy sighs, deep and heavy, before turning to face Buck head on. Something raw and vulnerable creeps into his eyes, and Buck finds himself standing a little steadier ready to catch whatever fragile thing Tommy is about to hand him. "The army, firefighting, Harbour. My mortality has never been a sticking point for me. I was always thinking: well, if I die, I die."

Buck sucks in a sharp breath, the words slicing through his skin like shards of a mirror long since shattered, settling in his gut like a stone of dread. How many times had he thought the exact same? How many times will he have to pay for his own carelessness by caring for someone he could lose so easily?

"I've made sure to live a life that would leave very little behind," Tommy continues. "Or I had. Until recently."

"Oh, yeah?" Buck raises an eyebrow, heart skipping once then twice. "What changed?"

"I think..." Tommy's voice is low as he sways into Buck's space. "I think I found something to stick around for."

(OR: buck comes out to chris at the wedding)

163 notes · View notes

three-pines · 1 year

Photo

Grief sometimes feels like fear, doesn’t it? But it’s not.

THREE PINES 1.01 whiteout: part 1

#three pines #tvedit #alfred molina #grief #armand gamache #quote #threepinesedit #my edits #s01 #1.01 #whiteout #gifs

2K notes · View notes

wren-of-the-woods · 6 months

Note

Hello! Thank you so much for what you do- could I please have some recs for geraskier fics where geralt is the one pining harder?

Here you go!! I wasn't sure how to categorize who was pining harder in all of these (since our boys are masters of longing lol) but these are all stories where Geralt loves Jaskier very much, and I highly enjoyed them all!

favorite by @asweetprologue (Rated G, 5.8k)

Jaskier gets Geralt a gift, and it makes Geralt realize he doesn't know enough about what Jaskier likes. He forms a plan to figure it out.

i’ll kiss you slow by @paintedcrayons (Rated T, 4.9k)

Geralt is not being creepy. He’s not. He’s just looking out for his friend (with a questionable choices in lovers). Lately, Geralt has started to notice the way people treat Jaskier’s affection like a means to an end. They kiss him only to move to the next step, dance with him as pretense to get him into their beds. He would like nothing more than to kiss Jaskier for the sake of it. (He does.)

time and time again by @samstree (Rated G, 5.2k)

Marriage proposals, through the years.

The Best Laid Plans by @dhwty-writes (Rated T, 5.5k)

Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir.

A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated G, 1.6k)

In which Geralt acquires a tiny friend who wouldn't stop following him.

Weak and Wanting by @sociallyawkward--fics (Rated T, 36k)

Geralt had thought that inviting Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after all these years would be a good thing. What he didn't plan on was his brothers deciding to have a little fun with their situation. Lambert and Eskel really needed to stop meddling in things they didn't understand, especially when it came to his bard.

Tell It With Your Heart by @bambirex (Rated G, 2.5k)

While Jaskier always says what's on his mind, Geralt works a little differently. That doesn't mean he cannot tell Jaskier how he feels - he just does that without words.

Repeat After Me by @onwardorange (Rated G, 7.3k)

All it takes is (nearly) three years, two meddlesome brothers, and one exasperated sorceress to get Geralt to admit his feelings for Jaskier.

Love Me Better, Send A Letter by @rebrandedbard (Rated T, 12.5k)

Geralt and Julian have been exchanging letters since participating in an inter-school pen pal program in high school, and Geralt has been pining away for Julian for over a decade since meeting by chance one faithful day in Posada. Between work and Ciri, he hasn't had much time for travelling, but he and Julian still exchange their letters faithfully. Finally, Julian's equally busy life coincides with Geralt's long enough for a short visit, and Geralt has the chance to finally introduce Ciri to the man she knows only on paper. Things would be perfect ... if Julian's visit didn't fall within the week of the concert of Ciri's favorite musician, Jaskier.

Music is no solution by @thecrownprincessbride (Rated T, 4.3k)

Jaskier has self-doubts, and Geralt is there for him.

A Careless Omission by @samstree (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier reveals he has a type. Geralt behaves strangely.

Highway Angel (To the Dark I Said Pour and Forgot to Say When) by @fangirleaconmigo T, 2.8k

Geralt is a long haul truck driver. With long stretches on the road away from his family, and with no one to keep him company but his loyal dog Roach, he has to brave most of his life completely alone. Then one day, just as he is passing the city of Oxenfurt, he turns on the radio and hears a voice.

zero for ten by @yaelathewordsmith (Rated T, 10.4k)

The blue-eyed boy on the school's cricket team seems determined to bowl Geralt out. The worst part is, he isn't even fucking trying. * Or, the ten times Jaskier held Geralt's heart in his hands without knowing, and how Geralt grew to want him to keep it.

(You can find my other reclists here!)

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #witcher #twn #wren recs #these are the ones i found searching my bookmarks but i'm sure there are many other good ones! so recs in the notes are highly welcome #it looks like there's a pining geralt tag so you could check that out too if you want #also i only noticed after i put this together that samstree is on it three times #you're the master of geralt pining jin XD #some of these probably appear on my other lists too but they fit the category so here you go!#thank you for this ask by the way!! i'd forgoten how much fun reclists are!#and i'm happy you thought of me <3 #reclists

245 notes · View notes

jackyjackdraws · 1 year

Text

It's that time of the year again!

Time to celebrate my favorite show and my favorite boys'birthday!

To celebrate, i wanted to draw an old drawing i was very proud of back in the day

(Which you can check right here!)

Happy birthday boys! And happy birthday Gravity Falls!

#gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #gravity falls fanart #redraw #man three years really went by huh?#in 2020 i was graduating from High School!#and now #three years later #i have a job #a boyfriend whom i love very much #and a few exams away before graduation (in Uni this time!)#so yeah! good shit!#how much three years can go

572 notes · View notes

danidoesathing · 11 days

Text

"Alright, and what would you like to sing for us tonight?"

Long Lost by Lord Huron

#HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABES. LONG LOST TIME #three years god damn #dani speaks #lord huron #lord huron long lost #long lost album #long lost #alive from whispering pines #afwp #tubbs tarbell #lord huron gif #lord huron gifs

108 notes · View notes

afewproblems · 1 year

Text

Prompt 53. "I'm flirting with you!" Part Two

A follow up to This Post

@happymediummm I promise the answer to your ask will be up soon in part three!!

Eddie stews in his room for three days following the incident at Steve's house.

Wayne attempts to coax him out with food and coffee, even opening up the pack of bacon they'd been saving in the freezer, anything to try and get Eddie to talk to him.

"I'm just worried s'all," he says softly from Eddie's doorway on the third day, his expression pinched in that way Eddie hates, "you should go out, do something, come on".

Wayne claps his hands together and disappears for a moment only to return with a tape case from the living room.

"Wayne, no--"

"It's overdue Eds, just bring it back for me would ya?"

Eddie groans into his hands at the triumphant expression on his uncle's face as he gets up from his bed and tugs on his leather jacket.

"Since your friends work there," Wayne says brightly, gesturing with the tape as he hands it over to Eddie, "you should see if they waive the late fee for us".

"I agreed to take it back, not talk to people," Eddie grumbles under his breath as Wayne shakes his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"At least you won't be growing mold anymore, sitting there in the dark," Wayne says with a wink, ignoring the indignant scoff Eddie makes.

"Store closes in a half hour kid, you better hurry!"

Shit.

Eddie grumbless petulantly as he hurries out the door, ignoring the way Wayne compares his groans to a haunted house door.

He doesn't smile at the jib, and it doesn't make him laugh for the first time in days as he gets into the van, it doesn't!

The parking lot of Family Video is empty, but what did he really expect on a Wednesday at half past eight in the evening.

The Open sign is still on at least but the low lights in the building and the bright copper glare of the sunset make it so much more difficult to see who is working tonight.

He could just toss the tape into the return slot and wait out the late fees, he's sure another video store will eventually open up in Hawkins, they can take their business there.

Eddie sighs heavily as he shuts off the van and yanks out the key, "dammit Wayne," he mutters under his breath as he gets out and makes his way to the door.

Eddie winces at the sharp jingle of the bell above the door and looks around, his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Steve and his big, stupid, hair.

Robin waves from the counter as Eddie spots her, she's grinning at him with a sly look on her face as she leans against the counter, the multiple buttons and pins on her vest clink against the glass surface.

"There he is," Robin crows, drumming the counter, "I was beginning to think Steve had kidnapped you or something, were you allowed out for good behavior?"

She seems to realize what she had just implied and winces, shaking her head as Eddie snorts mirthlessly.

"Uh, no, I just came to return this for my uncle," Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes level with the counter rather than Robin's eyes.

She frowns at him, taking the tape he slides across the counter and scanning it without dropping her gaze.

"What's with you?" She says suspiciously.

Robin drums her fingers lightly against the counter, as the large computer beeps acknowledging the return.

"Nothing, tired," Eddie shrugs, he's not about to tell Robin about what happened, though it is weird that she doesn't already know?

Maybe she wasn't in on it, he can't imagine that Buckley would approve of a prank like that on another 'friend of Dorothy' but she was Steve's best friend first and foremost.

A song comes on over the small Family Video speakers, humming in the background.

'All I wanna do when I wake up in the morning is see your eyes

Rosanna, Rosanna…'

Robin wrinkles her nose, her eyes traveling towards one of the large speakers in the corner before looking back to Eddie, a large grin in place.

"God this sappy shit, I told Steve not to put this one on the tape, you must hate Toto".

Eddie shrugs again, glaring at the floor, wishing he could burn a hole into it that he could escape through.

"He did play it…didn't he?" Robin asks quietly, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she leans away from the counter.

Eddie stops himself from rolling his eyes; if he was being honest, the tape was a nice touch --really sold the whole prank, honestly.

He looks back up to find Robin staring at him, and sighs heavily, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," he huffs, taking a step back towards the front door, Robin's eyes follow his path in confusion, "I wasn't much of a fan of the choices".

"But it's fine right," Eddie scoffs, "he can use his little tape on someone his shit will actually work on next time".

"What?" Robin says incredulously, her face scrunches into a frown as Eddie laughs.

"You know Buckley, I'm surprised you were on board with this?"

"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robin hisses, shrill and loud, as she finally walks around the counter towards him.

"Oh don't give me that, he's your best friend, you're going to tell me he didn't tell you about his plan?" Eddie shakes his head as a high pitched laugh bubbles up out of his chest.

"I don't know what plan you're talking about Eddie," she says in a low voice, her eyes wide and angry, "the only thing Steve was going to do that night was tell you how he felt about you".

"Yeah right, Steve Harrington, wants me? And that's not a fucking joke?"

She sucks her teeth, letting her eyes roam over his face, "this was such a mistake, okay, get out".

Eddie sneers sharply, "a mistake?"

"Yeah, I never should have gotten his hopes up".

Robin crosses to the window behind the counter and shuts off the second neon open sign before breezing past Eddie to pull the cord on the other sign, nearly hard enough to yank it down.

No, no, no, no, it's not true, she's just saving face, she has to be…

Robin stands beside the door, a furious glare aimed at Eddie, "we're closed, get out, I need to go check on Steve".

Unbelievable, Eddie does roll his eyes at this and heads towards her for the door, he takes the push bar in his hands and leans on it to swing the exit open before turning to Robin one last time, he wants so badly to have the last word it hurts.

"Better go check on King-Steve, I'm sure he's devastated," Eddie snarls, the furious fire from before burns bright in his chest as he watches Robin stiffen in the doorway.

"I haven't talked to him since Sunday Munson, until just now, I thought he was with you!"

Robin reaches out to grab both doors in her hands.

"Asshole," she scoffs, her eyes never leaving his as she locks the doors in his face.

***

1980, Hawkins, Indiana

Eddie sniffles as he walks home, he can feel blood trickle down his chin from the split lip Paul gave him while his knee aches from where he hit the ground.

He's not even sure what he did.

Paul had been so nice recently, talking with Eddie almost every day, eventually taking him under his wing. Paul was a year above Eddie at their Middle school, and when he had told Eddie to meet him under the bleachers after school, how could Eddie say no?

It didn't help that Paul had soft blond hair, big hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the nicest laugh Eddie had ever heard.

What Eddie hadn't been expecting was Randy and David, also in Paul's grade, to be waiting for him.

He breathes out a wet sob and keeps walking, scrubbing his face harshly as their trailer in Forest Hills comes into view, almost home.

Eddie reaches into his pocket and winces when he realizes his keys are gone, alongside his backpack.

They must have fallen out of his pocket in the scuffle.

The backpack was a different story.

He limps up the steps of their porch, wincing as the fabric of his jeans pulls at the drying blood on his knee, and knocks on the front door.

"Comin," Wayne calls from inside, "coming, wasn't expectin' anyone-- Ed?"

Wayne's face goes through a series of expressions, from surprise, to anger, before settling on concern.

He leans down and brings his hands up to Eddie's face, turning it gently to see the damage.

"Who did this," Wayne says quietly, he stands up to his full height, looking around the trailer park behind Eddie while tucking him closer.

"It was at school," Eddie sniffles again, his voice growing tight, "I'm okay".

Wayne looks down at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the door to pull Eddie inside.

"Hurt anywhere else?" Wayne asks as he walks Eddie to the kitchen, one arm around his shoulder as though afraid the fourteen year old will collapse at any moment.

"I fell, my knee hurts," Eddie mumbles as he sits at the kitchen table in the corner while Wayne crosses to the cabinets and busies himself with grabbing two clean wash clothes and peroxide from the cupboard above their stove.

It's quiet for a moment while Wayne wets one of the clothes at the sink and makes his way back to Eddie.

He kneels on the floor, balancing his weight on his good knee while the other remains bent at a more comfortable ninety degree angle. His joints creak slightly as he gets comfortable but he still smiles at Eddie all the same.

"Won't you be sore after this?" Eddie sighs, wishing Wayne would just let him go to the washroom now to clean himself up.

"You let me worry about that," Wayne grumbles as he reaches up to wipe the blood and dirt from Eddie's face with the wet cloth. It's warm from the water and Wayne's gentle hand.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Wayne asks softly, as he reaches for the bottle of peroxide and tips it into the second cloth. He tilts Eddie's face to dab gently at the now dirt free cuts.

Eddie sucks his teeth at the sting and closes his eyes.

He doesn't even know where to really start.

Paul hadn't been the one to push him off his feet, that had been Randy, but that hadn't stopped Paul from laughing and calling Eddie a fairy.

David had been the one to take his bag, dumping everything out into the dirt and ripping it until the zipper broke.

Luckily all of his school books were still in his locker, but all of the campaign notes from his most recent D&D game had been in there, along with the worn copy of the Hobbit his mother had given him.

All of it was still sitting in the mud and grass by the bleachers, stomped into the ground by David's white sneakers.

Eddie shrugs as Wayne leans back slightly. He takes Eddie's leg and slowly bends the knee at the joint, his eyes search Eddies for any sign of strain. The only sting comes from the way the jean material pulls at the drying blood from his scrapes.

Wayne breathes out and scrubs a hand over his tired face, his fingers catch on the grey stubble as they slide down and drop into Wayne's lap.

"I'll make an appointment on Monday with the principal," Wayne says as he stands up with a stifled groan, turning away from Eddie who shakes his head like a wet dog.

"Wayne you can't--"

"Edward, what do you expect me to do? You come home lookin' like hell and you won't tell me what happened?"

Eddie bites his split lip hard enough for the faint taste of copper to stain his tongue once more, how could he tell Wayne just what those boys had yelled at him as he sat in the dirt cradling his head, wishing he'd just gone home.

Wayne sighs loudly as he raises his face towards the ceiling, his lips move slightly but Eddie can't make out what he's saying before he looks back at Eddie, his expression worn.

"Okay, okay," Wayne murmurs, walking back towards Eddie, he pulls one of the other mismatched chairs towards himself and sits down, "I won't call, but you have to meet me halfway, alright?"

Eddie hesitates, swallowing roughly, maybe there was a way to tell Wayne without telling him everything.

"There were some boys at school, um," Eddie picks at one of the holes in his blue jeans, pulling at the frayed thread absently, "I guess just, one at first but…".

His eyes burn suddenly as the words rip through him once again.

"He told me to come to the bleachers and then," Eddie's voice wobbles this time as his throat tightens, "there were more of them and they…called me--"

Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down to hide his shining eyes, he doesn't notice Wayne coming closer until he feels a hand in his hair and the dam finally breaks.

Six years later, Eddie can still remember what his uncle told him that day as he cried in his arms.

"People can be cruel, especially when they don't understand, and sometimes that means being careful of who you open yourself up to. But you can tell me anything Ed, and I'll love ya no matter what. You always have home to come back to".

Eddie knew people like Steve Harrington. He'd been around them his whole life.

Sometimes they went by Paul, sometimes by Jason, or Billy.

But that didn't make them any less dangerous, any less capable of inflicting hurt on people that were different.

So, Robin could say that Steve wasn't like that until she was blue in the face, because she was…wrong…

Wasn't she?

Taglist: @ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality

Part Three now up!

#beep boop misunderstandings again #steddie #unrequited love or is it #mutual pining #steve harrington #eddie munson #afewproblems writes #stranger things #now we are getting into some plot #I can't write anything short im my own worst enemy #sigh #we love a supportive wayne in this house #we love a protective robin in this house #we might need a playlist for this guy #part three will be up soon answering the second prompt: I need you to forgive me #angst with a happy ending I promise

565 notes · View notes